Yesterday was one of those completely refreshing days of clear, crisp light, friendly temperatures, and – especially by late afternoon – a cleansing, sweeping breeze which almost intensified into a storm. Very yang weather, I loved it.
I went for a walk past the library and through downtown before taking a left down W.-Street to L.-Street so I could walk along the ocean. It was very windy by now, but not cold. Just refreshing. The water, whipped by the wind, was high, beating the breakwater and sea walls.
The water was changed by the wind – gone was the usual blue, steel blue, slate blue. Now it was a few degrees shy of emerald, emerald with a hint of yellow or cream, probably from the sand churned up by the waves’ motion. Coincidentally I was wearing a green – a sort of moss green – shirt. It’s a color I like, but which aside from this shirt is absent from my wardrobe.
It occurs to me that I was feeling very much at one with the weather, the time of day, the waves and agitation – no, wrong word. Not agitation; action, with the sense of action. With the wind, the temperature… As I said, very yang. And before I left the beach, I asked myself, “If you could have this weather anywhere (else) in the world, to live with, where would you want it?” And despite my antipathies to this place, I couldn’t come up with an answer to my question, couldn’t name another place.
I had been articulating and turning over in my head the “Victoria option” again, something I never thought I’d do. And while aspects of the place appeal very much – the terrain and topography, the built form, the transportation and walkability, the weather (oh, the weather!), and the fact that I have many social connections there – there are also obvious questions to ask, driven by things that frustrated me the last time I lived there: geography (an island, increasingly expensive to get on and off from, making travel and change a much bigger deal than here); western isolation (if you do get off the island, you’re still only in either Vancouver or Seattle, from where it’s hours to the next interesting place, so don’t bother with the ferry, just fly directly to San Francisco or Toronto or wherever, and now you’re talking “real” money…); and the politics. Like here, I’d have to ignore, in social interactions, all politics. Otherwise I’d start hating everyone again, as happened with the Johnson Street Bridge fight (I was right, but I lost that battle), and as is happening to me here with regard to despising Democrats as much as Republicans (I am right, but I won’t win that argument with people here, in this solid blue state so in lockstep with the Democratic Party).
And that brings me to a fundamental personality flaw I have: I’m a lousy “politician.” I want to be right –and I’m often smart and courageous enough to see what’s right, and stupid (proud) enough to cling to what’s right (albeit not hardened enough to put up with the abuse you get when you’re contrarian-right, i.e., correct). And wanting to be right, actually being right, doesn’t mean you will win. To win, you need an additional skillset, and I don’t think I’ve ever picked it up. Being the often-enough contrarian right one in a sea of wrong-minded sheeple just gets you a bunch of scars and a deep-seated misanthropy.
So, maybe my “solution” isn’t to attach myself to one place, but to have at least two. Not sure how that could ever be financially feasible …since I want nice (as in interesting) places.