“Cities have the capability of providing something for everybody, only because, and only when, they are created by everybody.”

― Jane Jacobs, The Death and Life of Great American Cities

There is no magic bullet. Not any one condo development, conference center, huge public plaza, or civility ordinance (I’m looking at you, Alcohol Impact Area) is going to fix our city. The process is the thing. For growth and density to be successful in our downtown, it has to be inclusive and incremental. It also can’t be controlled. Common spaces will be what the public wants them to be, or they’ll fail. No matter how much our city staff, planners, or council want to regulate our public spaces, they can’t. And the harder they try, the worse they’ll fail. That means it’s up to us to step up and lead the way. We know what we want our neighborhoods to look like, and we know what it’ll take to get us there. We just have to step up and take our place.

'Council moves to ban cheap alcohol from downtown Olympia' - The Olympian

Read more here: http://www.theolympian.com/2012/02/29/2009782/council-moves-to-ban-cheap-alco...

I want to know what others think about this. It's an idea that originated with the Olympia Downtown Association, our local business group, and was given a lot of guidance by city staff.

Personally, I don't think Alcohol Impact Areas actually work, I've never seen evidence that they do. Worse yet, there wasn't any meaningful public process around this decision. Where was the neighborhood planning on this issue? Were other stakeholders who will be effected by this policy consulted? Local service providers have some real concerns about this, yet weren't reached out to in this process, or their concerns fell on deaf ears.

We can't just keep banning things and outlawing behaviors as a way to create a more ideal downtown - it just doesn't work. This is NOT a criminal issue, it's a public health issue, and we should address it as such.

I'm pretty disappointed in our council on this one.

Brief Interviews with Hideous Men

John Krasinski (The Office) directed this adaptation of a set of 23 David Foster Wallace short stories of the same name.

The quick summary: Sara is a college student who is interviewing men for her studies. As she bores down, darker things start to surface, and she begins to see the connectivity between how people relate to different situations - how people justify their behaviors - and the limitations that our preconceptions put on those around us, especially toward people of the opposite gender.
 
There were many scenes in this film that could spawn their own Evergreen seminar, it really is rife with provocative statements and intellectual fodder.
 
There's one in particular, however, that just became my newest intrusive internal dialogue.
 
At 1:03:20 into the film, a scene begins with Ryan, played by John Krasinski, walking into Sara's apartment. They exchange awkwardness, and then she pounces. He has cheated on her. She wants to know why. She confronts him - aggressively - enough that he becomes visibly uncomfortable and attempts to diffuse the tension. They sit.
 
He launches into a narrative about why he cheated on her, how it came to be, and why he can sit there and tell her all of this and feel justified in his actions.He goes on for nearly ten minutes of screen time. (I don’t want to give too much of this away, you should watch it yourself and form your own thoughts, then we can discuss. It's available on Netflix streaming.)

A couple of things resonated with me personally, and have actually been bouncing around in my head for years now, but without this much clarity:

“...the terror of a soul exposing connection with another human being..."

"...the very connection that he works so hard to make her feel, terrifies him..."

I have been there, many times. I’m not proud of it.

Hit the bar with some buddies, see an attractive young woman - chat her up - buy her a drink or two - make her laugh - say all the right things - flex that finely chiseled charm - go home with her - sneak out after she falls asleep (maybe you leave your socks behind because you don’t want to make so much noise looking for them). Time goes by, loneliness creeps back in, repeat, repeat, repeat...

I’m not qualified to pronounce that all men act a certain way because of one thing or another - I don’t have the right letters after my name for that. What I can say, is that for me, the above quotes pretty well encompass where I was coming from - at least as far as I can tell, in hindsight.

I don’t make excuses for having behaved this way. It happened, and I figure it’s my job to try to learn why. That said...
 
It’s so easy to fake that connection for one night, but it can’t be faked into the morning. The efficacy of small talk has eroded by sunrise, and a real conversation about who you are and what’s in your mind is all that’s left to be had. Better to sneak out in the night and not risk it. Risk what? The embarrassment of exposing yourself to someone else - being judged - deemed unworthy - rejected - made fun of! The horror!

That terrifying connection that we so easily create, that can be turned on like a flick of our lighter to your cigarette - it goes out just as easily - because it is as impermanent as that flame. It's as if we reached up to give you a light, but removed the flame too soon and your smoke didn't light all the way, so you got half a drag and then it went out, and by the time you realize what's happening we're long gone with the lighter.

Morning after pillow-talk may seem a far cry from a “soul exposing connection”, but really it’s not in the face of all of the insecurities this world can bind you with. To open up a little bit may as well be to stand naked, for all to see. For me, who I was, where I came from, how I’d lived, what I’d been through - these experiences taught me that it was safer to keep my feelings, thoughts, hopes, and dreams to myself. That only bad things could come from sharing them, or that I was less than a man if I did. That's a lot of programming to undo.

The best I can say is that now, years later, in the clear vision of the error of my ways, I try to be more outgoing, open, patient, and passionate.

What lessons can we take from today's blog?

Lesson One: don’t go home with or take home anyone who hits on you at a bar - especially if he’s charming and handsome with beautiful hazel eyes.

Lesson Two: don’t take any advice, ever, about relationships, from me.

Just this.

The following resolution was recently adopted by the Edmonds City Council. Please copy it, and email it to the Olympia City Council - citycouncil@ci.olympia.wa.us - and urge them to adopt it!

A Resolution of Support for Marriage Equality

Whereas, marriage equality is a basic civil right, and; 

Whereas, marriage equality provides legal and economic protections including access to health care, parenting rights, and property rights, and;

Whereas, marriage equality protects children and families, and;

Whereas, the United States Supreme Court has said, “The freedom to marry has long been recognized as one of the vital personal rights essential to the orderly pursuit of happiness”, and;

Whereas, civil unions and domestic partnerships represent significant advances toward recognition of same-sex relationships, but they are not a substitute for full and equal marriage, and;

Whereas, marriage equality is about civil marriage, not religious marriage, and;

Whereas, marriage is a powerful and important affirmation of love and commitment, a source of social support and recognition, and the legal protections which are invaluable to the safety and security of every family; therefore

Be it resolved that the Olympia City Council fully supports Marriage Equality in the State of Washington, and;

Be it further resolved that support of Marriage Equality be added to the Olympia 2012 Legislative Agenda, and;

Be it further resolved that this Resolution be sent to all of our State representatives.

Passed, Approved, and Adopted this ___ day of January, 2012.

"Never tell me you love me," she said to me. "It won't mean anything."

"But what if I do mean it?" I replied.

"You might think you mean it, but you really don't,"  she responded. "I've heard it all before, I know it's all fake."

"That's right," I said. "You live in my skin, you know what I'm thinking, and how I feel."

She responded with a look that felt like fingernails down a chalkboard.

"I think you know what I mean," she said with a sideways glance.

"How can I know what you mean?" I retorted. "When you don't say what you mean or mean what you say?"

She sighed abruptly and got up from the antique loveseat - muttering expetives - and cursing the moment she ever fell for me.

I followed her into the kitchen, where she was banging dishes together, pretending to wash them.

I placed my hands around her waist, and whispered into her ear...

"I'll never love you."

And she smiled.

A coworker of mine shared this list on his Facebook wall, and as things like this do this time of year, it resonated with me.

It encompasses pretty well the spirit I'm trying to bring to all of my work. Even the nitty gritty policy work that I do on the Planning Commission can follow these rules. We are all creators.

What do you create?

I've been thinking a lot lately about money. It might be the most powerful and complex of all our societal constructs.

If you have A LOT of it, you can make things happen in a big way, you wield a lot of power. You can purchase real estate, build things, really make an impact. You have access to decision makers and influence over them.

If you are even just moderately well off, like upper middle class, you don't have to worry about survival. Think about that for a second. How new of a concept is this for our species, that we can have enough money that we don't have to worry about surviving?

Now, most households in the U.S. hover around $44,000 a year in income, not really that much if you're a couple raising a family. I remember when I was a kid, my mom telling me that my step-dad made $300 a week working on the docks - before taxes that's $15,600 a year, which would be about $25,600 today. I remember when I heard that, I thought it was a lot of money, I thought we were rich. I had no idea what money was, or that other people had more than us. I simply had no concept whatsoever. I didn't even consider money, it wasn't a thing.

I realize now that it wasn't something I thought about because I was never taught about it. I was taught that money doesn't make you, and that being a good person is more important. I still believe that to this day. I also now realize that there is no hope for me to be rich. I don't have the mentality for it. I don't care about money, kind of hate it, actually. My motivation for doing things is never that it will attain me money. I may work harder, get a side job, etc, in order to make more money, but that money is already spent, it's never just to have more in order to buy shiny things.

My mom - the only consistent adult figure in my life as a kid - didn't talk about money, even when things were at their roughest, and we lived in the crappy duplex 50 yards from the train tracks, she never let on that times were tough. She worked three jobs sometimes, and I knew it, but she didn't ever crack - I don't know if or how often she cried about it when I wasn't around - but in front of me she was a strong. Some might call this foolish pride - as I got older foolish pride played a huge role in the foibles of my early adulthood.

I imagine that my mother just didn't want me to worry about it - that she was being strong and internalizing all the stress so that I could be a kid and have fun and not have to deal with it - stress that I'd have no capacity or frame of reference for anyway. So I'm glad for that. I had an amazing time during those years, running around with my friends (getting into trouble, but not too much). I honestly wouldn't change anything, I love who I am today and love that I have the perspective that I do, I think I'm better off than most people who didn't experience the things I did. I'm thankful that money doesn't cloud my moral compass, that my mother instilled in me a deep compulsion to be good to others, as opposed to being guided by the desire to be rich or motivated by luxuries.

I always wonder though, if this was a conscious decision that my mom made to not talk about money with me, or if it was just her way, and was sort of organically imparted on me.

In all aspects of life, for me, balance is the thing. I want to think about money just enough to avoid living month to month all of my life, while keeping it off to the side and never being motivated by just getting more of it. Sometimes I catch myself saying, "If only I made a little more money…" as if that would magically erase the years of programming that has resulted in my laissez-faire attitude.

One truth that I'm aware of is that you can lead a great life and have all the things you need and some of the things you want, without being greedy or money-driven.

I'm still not exactly sure how one gets there, but I'm on the path, and that's the important thing.

When I first became aware of myself, I was standing. 

The field surrounding me was drenched in sunlight from the clear, electric-blue sky above. The air was warm, you could smell and taste the sunshine in it - mixed with whatever the gentle breeze brought to me each moment.

Tall grass mixed with wildflowers were at my feet, which were pointing to a wooded area just up ahead, about 40 paces.

I began walking, following my feet, toward the woods. I got just to the edge, paused, and without looking back - and without looking in - I entered.

The woods were everything you could hope for. Cool and deep and lush and comforting - I could hear a spring or creek, somewhere, the sound of it directionless, bouncing from tree to tree as if playing hide and seek with my ears.

I never stopped to think about why I was in the woods. Or even why I became aware of myself in that field.

I continued walking, with a sense of purpose, but with no clear direction. 

Fallen logs, berry bushes, ferns, creatures great and small - they buzzed and hummed and skittered and pranced - careless of my presence. I couldn't recall ever feeling quite so complete, quite so whole, yet still I could sense a lingering void, something missing. This realization began to consume me in a way that changed my perspective of this forest. First my eyes darkened a bit, dimming the disco ball-like bits of sun that played tag with one another in the breeze. Then my nostrils dulled, dampening the crisp smell of the nearby stream. My skin, then my ears - it was as if the volume was turned down on my senses.

Despite this, I continued my walk, with no less purpose, and no more direction - but with a newfound understanding that there was something more out there.

Up ahead I could see a bit of a clearing, it was brighter there, and I made my way to it. The floor of the clearing was covered in a thick moss - lush, and inviting me to lay down. Just as I was about to, I heard a sound that was foreign to any I'd heard yet. It was a muted sort of warbling chitter. It was nearby. I tracked the sound to the middle of the clearing.

Upon the bed of moss, lay a small bird. I recognized it immediately as a Painted Bunting, known as one the most beautiful North American birds. Crimson chested, with a hood of stunning blue, and a florescent lime-green cloak around its shoulders - these three colors melting together down its wings in an almost iridescent display of beauty.

Clearly suffering, a fresh wound standing out brightly on its wing - the Bunting was in need. I felt a sense of duty, a sense that it all made sense: the missing thing I'd felt since I became aware of myself was the Bunting. My destiny was was clear now, this Bunting and I were cosmically joined. I would save this bunting from a lonely death in these deep woods, and myself become whole in the process.

Ever so gently, I scooped up the Bunting and cradled it in the crook of my arm. It immediately relaxed, ceasing its cries, a look of calm and joy shone through its eyes, and I knew without question that everything was the way it was supposed to be.

I found a nice spot under an outcropping in a dried-up gully and made us a shelter. As night fell, I gathered food, built a fire, and the Bunting and I slept there under the stars.

Everyday for the next few weeks were much the same. I'd see to the Bunting's wounds, helping it recover  - nursing it, comforting it. I carried an overwhelming sense of righteousness in these endeavors - the void I had once felt began to close - my senses sprang back and the forest came alive for me. I was again aware of all the beauty surrounding me.

Still unable to fly, the Bunting and I began to explore the woods on foot, with me carrying the Bunting most of the way - over and around obstacles, taking in the beauty of life, the wondrous natural environment, eating, and dancing, and celebrating.

Nothing felt at all different when I awoke on that last day. It felt exactly the same as the many days before - wide open, the biggest dilemma being which adventure to decide on. The Bunting was getting stronger and braver as its wounds healed. Bigger and better and more and different things were on the horizon for us.

Things were different though, the Bunting was stronger, more confident. Ready to test its wings.

We were on our regular morning walk, gathering berries, when we approached the clearing I originally met the Bunting in. As we were walking through, gazing up at the sunbeams caressing the treetops far above us, the Bunting hopped down off of my shoulder, flapping its wings, testing their strength. As the Bunting alit on the ground, it took a few short hops and then launched into the air again, triumphantly and confidently. It circled the clearing twice, landed at my feet, looked up at me as if to say, "Thank You." Then departed into the woods, free, and strong, and independent.

I didn't want the Bunting to go. I had grown very fond of it. In fact, I loved it very much. The Bunting gave me a sense of purpose. I had fooled myself into believing that just because I had been there to rescue it, that the Bunting somehow owed me something, that it would naturally just stay with me.

I had taken a lot of things for granted in those woods.

--------

Anger. Frustration. Sadness. I was consumed. This little apartment was no sanctuary. The coffee shop. The bar. The walk to work. As long as I was inside this mind, there was no place to go.

She had left the week before. It was like nothing else I'd known. 

When you've been heart hardened all of your life, a thing like this can sneak up on you. You don't expect that anything can hurt you. In that moment, when you realize they're gone and not coming back - that's the loneliest possible moment - with every moment that follows a close second.

All of those manly cliches about sucking it up and putting your nose to the grindstone - they do little to block out the constant dull thud of your heart beating in your brain - pounding out a song of sorrow.

Yet, amid all of the clack and clatter of your wretched state, in that shoved aside part of your brain where reason lives, there's a little voice saying, "You knew this was going to happen, you've been here before." And though you know that voice is right, even if it doesn't change anything, it helps you get to the end of the day - and that's enough for now.

Here's the run-down of events that led to this post:

In December of 2007, I wrote this article for Works In Progress.

On December 17th 2011 (yesterday as I write this), this article was posted on Olympia Views.

I had completely forgotten that I wrote the '07 piece, and so I posted it on my Facebook wall. My friend Peter Stroble left this comment:

"Rob - What is the state of Olympia today, in your estimation? Have more progressive candidates been elected since 2007? If so, have they had enough time to reshape the city in accordance with the progressive values you sought in '07? If so, how so? If not, are they on the right track?"

These are provocative questions, and I felt they deserved more than just a quick answer in the comment thread, so here I am, sitting at the coffee shop, thinking about the last four years and how events have culminated to get us where we are today.

I hope I address Peter's questions, I'm sure (hope) I'll hear from him if I don't.

On the State of Olympia

My assessment on the state of things in '07 seems to have been the prevailing sentiment of the greater progressive community in Olympia. My concerns were abated by (thanks to a highly divisive land-use debate) a rally of the progressive community, that had finally become fed up by elected officials who believed that public input stopped on election day. NOTE: I make no claims to have sparked any of this change through my call to action. These things happened because people became fed up, wanted things to change, and got organized.

Two years ago, Jeff Kingsbury became the first incumbent in the history of Olympia (source: Matthew Green) to be defeated in their reelection bid. All thanks to Stephen Buxbaum, and the political machine that formed around him.

This year, our current mayor, Doug Mah, decided not to run again. Council member Craig Ottavelli, a Kingsbury recruit, also decided not to seek reelection. A second Kingsbury acolyte, Rhenda Strub, did decide to run again, despite years of behavior that had turned off many influential citizens. She was defeated by a political newcomer, Nathaniel Jones, who I worked hard for, and have become friends with.

Now to directly answer Peter's questions. At this moment in time, Olympia has solidly built a council that reflects a progressive view. This is a view that I share. It includes not developing close to our shorelines, revitalizing our downtown in a way that engages all stakeholders to not just give input but to actually champion projects, developing a system for neighborhood and sub-area planning that empowers our neighborhood associations to decide exactly how their neighborhoods grow, etc.

Buxbaum moving to the mayor's chair leaves his seat open, and as of the appointment of that final member, all of the pieces will be in place. So no, they have not been able to really begin the work, though I do think Stephen Buxbaum accomplished a lot over the last two years, despite being on a council that was seemingly stacked against him.

What remains to be seen is if the new council can live up to the high expectations. I believe we now have a council that can get a lot done. It's a smart group, includes some diversity of thought, Jim Cooper is a great addition and as a thirty-something will bring a valuable perspective. They'll also be appointing someone to fill an open seat. Karen Messmer, a former council member, is applying for it, and in my book is the natural choice to join this council.

As a Planning Commissioner, and especially in my role as Chair of the Comprehensive Plan Update Subcommittee, I see it as my responsibility, as well as the job of every concerned citizen, to continue pushing for our collective values. I don't want to see us become complacent just because we won a couple of elections. We have to keep the pressure on, or risk losing everything we've worked so hard for. We all have to remain vigorously engaged, keep recruiting good people to step up, filling our advisory committees, boards, and neighborhood associations with hard working progressives. It's truly more important now than it ever was.