#passive-aggresive

5: Passive-Aggressive or IP?

A passive-aggressive person gives an outward impression of openness and flexibility but holds an inward drive toward a goal or outcome—pushing you toward an intended outcome or position...

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We all gathered up into the car again, exhausted from being on our feet. I could feel my eyes getting heavier and heavier watching the sun's rays fade into night as we past mile after mile. Compared to the car ride to the hospital, full of laughter and merriment, this was especially quiet. I didn't mind. 

  "I'm boooored!" whined Nicole in her typical fashion. No, don't care that the general rest of the car was in a melancholic tone, worry about yourself. I tried loving her as she was apart of the group, but it was really, really hard sometimes. I rolled my eyes and looked over to John who was sitting straight across from me. I looked at him a lot, to be frank, and sometimes I caught him looking back, but I'm sure that it was just coincidence. Written all over his face was the same feeling of annoyance I was feeling. 

  "Why don't we play a question game of some sort?" suggested Nicole's mom, who was driving. Ever at her daughter's beckon call, I was amazed at how much she did for her daughter and manage to not smack her upside the head once in a while. Then again, Nicole would probably literally attempt to kill her. The anger issues on that girl…

  For the next ten minutes I listened to the questions and answers from each of the people in the full SUV, closing my eyes trying to sleep partially because I'm awful at answering and asking questions, and partially just because I was honestly tired as fuck. I stretched out across the car seat, careful not to touch John, but enough to make him take notice. I don't know why I tried these small, daring acts, but they gave me a little satisfaction. The questions were atypical of a bunch of teenagers, so as you can imagine, quite deep, with gems like, "Who do you like?", "How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had?". Moderately interesting, but not exactly my cup of tea. Everyone always lies anyway.

  "Allie, what about you?" asked Michelle. Dammit, she must have seen me move or something. 

  Act dumb. "What about me, what?" I replied back. 

  "Who have you gone out with this year? Or *do* you have someone special in your life right now?" she waggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

  My heart started racing. The car was silent. Could they hear it? What did I say? In my peripheral vision I watched as John, who had previously been occupying himself with his own work, stop writing. 

  He wanted an answer? Fine, I'll give a real nice answer. 

  "Well, um, I mean, I've gone out with a few guys this year, but none that really meant anything. At least, I didn't to them, obviously."

  I saw him take a large breath and sigh, looking out though his window. Purposefully not in my direction. 

  Maybe I was a bit too catty.

So this could be the last day I spend in Seattle as a “Seattle-ite.” The last afternoon I may get to enjoy sitting so nicely and peacefully at one of my writing spots. I love it here. I love the place–the geography, the topography, the trees, the hills, the abundance of water…the way that every corner you turn, there seems to be another hill curving into and around another body of water. I love the laid-back attitude toward life. Say what you will about how people are “passive-aggressive” here, but even if they are–it’s still “passive” and no big deal. You can let it brush through or past you much easier than an “active-aggressive” person, whom I suppose you would have to dodge blows from, by definition.

I love the music here (still…even if “grunge” has gone underground), I love the nightlife, the abundance of choices of places and venues to go to have fun, the diversity of music and other activity, the art culture, and at least, the attempt at social responsibility by local government and people–in Ballard, or Fremont, or the Wallingford neighborhoods (not the only ones, but the little sub-divisions that seem to lead the way in an almost hippie-ish sort of way). I love the outlandishness energy of Capitol Hill.

I love that, within a one and a half hour drive, you can be skiing in a place that could easily be mistaken for a major Colorado resort. I love the absolutely incredible beauty and subtle nature (quietude) of the Puget Sound itself, with all the islands that rise up slowly and softly in the misty skies of grey. One can take an hour’s journey from Seattle, on a ferry, and another hour back to see nature’s supple majesty…even an orca pod, if you’re lucky…all for the unsirly sum of $6.70.

I love the Space Needle, and will miss looking at it from so many spots in Seattle. I found a new one only two nights ago–from inside the Lo-Fi nightclub, while watching a psychedelic band play to end the unique two-day festival, just after midnight. It’s much like seeing the Eiffel Tower in Pairs–a constant reminder that I am someplace truly special. I even enjoy taking the elevator ride up from time to time–to take in the view from the observation deck–whether full of tourists or not. It is a place for locals and tourists alike to enjoy.

I love the friends that I have made here, and more… Seattle-ites can be very “real” and friendly, unlike their reputation, and I have forged some very strong friendships here that will last a lifetime. I will miss these people, and indeed, all of the things I love listed above. So why leave?

I could say that it’s the rain… The constant rain will make a person bug-eyed with depression, or frustration at times. It has much more of an effect on people than a lot will care to admit. Folks who grew up here seem to have learned better psychological tools in their childhood “training” to deal with it…their “highs” when it’s sunny, and “lows” when it’s been raining and grey every day for two straight weeks…but those of us who transplanted here have to learn on our own, as adults, how to deal with the robbery of color by the thick grey overcast clouds, and the continual “heaviness” of every object, piece of land, building, car, or person being wet for days. It’ll get to even the strongest of souls… In fact, some days, I prayed for it to be just a little colder…so it would snow instead. At least the snow is light, fluffy, dry, and quiet…it actually lifts the spirit when compared to a blanket of (cold) wetness.

But I don’t think it’s even the rain or constant “wet” that drives me to get out of Dodge. I think that I failed to do what I set out to do here. Start a band. I had a great opportunity to do so, in a great town, full of great musicians. But I slacked, and didn’t do it. And now I have officially stagnated. Deflated. I must regain some of my former fire and motivation to work at what I enjoy doing…writing stuff, and composing music. I still write, but I am so consumed by my “condition” here, that I spend far too much time writing about…my “condition”! I write to figure things out and express and share that which is on my mind, and I have been way too consumed with the rain and not being happy here, that I continue to write about it–in circles now… It is not productive any longer.

I need to get out of this space, this geographic area, this wonderful city for a while…because it is (temporarily?) a source of repression, rather than expression. This is not workable for someone who wishes to create. It’s time for me to go someplace sunny for a while… Or, at least, somewhere that I am happy so I am motivated to write, and otherwise create! Write about anything but the weather, and my (or anyone else’s) relation to it. Write about the human condition, social issues, skiing, art, philosophy, whatever!

1. you almost always are smiling

2. you give girls and guys equal respect and attention

3. you don't change

4. I am comfortable with you