Behind the Scenes at ActiveRain

Putting this out on the wire...supposedly, our staunch and humorless (snickersnortcough) staffers who are living it up down at Connect this week have been caught on film...dancing! 

If you have the pictures, I would love copies!

The other day, Bob and Jerry were talking in the office next to mine; this is not an uncommon occurance, mind you, but normally, I mind my own business, do the paperwork and pay the bills, and really don't pay much attention to their conversations.

Suddenly, from the other doorway, I hear, "Hey Claire?  Ever seen a UFO?"  This was Jerry.  Bob was suspiciously quiet all of a sudden.

The guys here at ActiveRain are always quite funny, so I played along.  Bob, especially, knows I'm probably one of the most gullible people on Earth, so I was waiting for the punchline as I laughed and answered, "Haha.  No, why?"

All of a sudden, Bob chimes in with, "Haha! She laughed at you, dude!"

From there, they went back to their conversation that, now that I was paying attention, ended up with Jerry deciding not to invite me to the party he was going to have in the spaceship when the aliens beamed him up.

Oh well, I guess I'll just have to scalp my ticket!

Coming over the I-90 Bridge from the north is one of those small, simple pleasures I take after a hard day of writing with my fellow authors up in Everett.  You see, right before the bridge, traffic tends to slow down while people decide whether to take the Express lanes or not.  I'm unperturbed, myself, because as the bridge's incline sharpens and traffic comes to its peak, one must only look slightly to their right to see the most gorgeous city on the planet: Seattle.

While living on the East Coast, I heard those New Englanders down my city because "the only thing special about that skyline is the Space Needle".  Now, I'm not a quiet person; unfortunately, the crew here at ActiveRain gets to hear me speak my mind when there's something on it (Sorry, guys!), and it's a well-known fact that even during my interview, I told them that I don't mince words.  So I told those New Englanders what I really thought about their opinions: You've obviously never been to Seattle.

The Space Needle is Seattle.  It's part of our skyline.  In fact, I'm not the only one who's miffed about the fact that Las Vegas tried to replicate it!  (Fie, Las Vegas, fie!)  Bottom line, though?  The Space Needle is not the only thing to look at.  No.  If you come over the I-90 bridge in the early or the very late hours, watch how many colors we have in the sunrise and sunset.  Those clouds that pour rain on us turn a brilliant menagerie of gorgeous, eye-catching shades, and on a clear day...on a clear day, there's sky forever, colors forever, and with the buildings standing tall and proud against it, the city is ever-quiet as you enjoy the painting before you.

Walking around downtown, I often find myself walking around slow walkers with their necks craned back so that they can see this or that.  On eye-level, Seattle looks like a small-town city with some very big hills and sure, there's some water somewhere.  It's very quaint, with venues and restaurants everywhere, a huge, glass-encased library, and tons of cute little corner stores.  These neck-craners, the ones my sister and I lovingly refer to as 'tourists', tend to get caught up in the overhead structures of skyscrapers, epic construction sites, and the immense, immaculate beauty found in glass, steel, and concrete.

My Seattle's walkability, quiet cityscape, and awe-inspiring natural -- and sometimes unnatural -- beauty are just a few reminders of why people flock from all over the country to live here.  My Seattle is a burbling spring of human activity, a quiet, metal forest in the world of man, and has a funky, technicolor skyline to trump all of those snobby, nose-in-the-air, East-Coast skylines. 

Personally, I think they're just jealous of our Space Needle.  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

So many people who live in this fantastic city whine and moan about the traffic problems.  I'm not one of them.  I've lived many places all over the country, one of them being Washington, D.C. (Second Worst Traffic in the Country, according to studies run late last year); while there, I worked in Bethesda and lived in Baltimore. Overall, it was about a 50 mile commute during Washington, D.C.'s rush hour, taking me anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour and a half to get to and from work.

I learned the meaning of patience doing that commute for a year, but I loved both cities and loved my job, so I gritted my teeth and did the stop-and-go traffic.  Moving to Seattle after doing that commute for so long was a breath of fresh air; the motorists are exceedingly polite, people understand the definition of the word "merge", and motorcyclists are not the crazy, death-defying speed-demons that I'm used to, cutting me off and crossing four lanes at a time.

With today's launch of Localism, and after about a week of laboriously hand-approving posts from around the country, I found myself inspired and mystified by the sheer knowledge that is stacking up on that site. We have a lot of extremely intelligent agents writing about the place they know best: Home.  Unfortunately, I was sorely disappointed that my favorite neighborhood was sadly unrepresented in the vast scheme of knowledge that is currently being compiled.

Downtown Seattle is not the traffic chaos that people make it out to be.  Those of us homegrown Seattleites will tell you that yes, the traffic sucks, solely because there are so many cars on the road.  To that, I say pish tosh.  I say: Look around you!  I do, everyday, and usually, what I see are the transplant Seattleites tightly sealed into their hybrid vehicles with the A/C gusting through their hair and their sunglasses blocking out the natural light that we so rarely see throughout the year.

There are a few, though, a few of us homegrown Seattleites, who are like me.  They have their windows down, their music up, the wind rushing through their hair, and they're singing.  Sure, they may be singing the worst possible version of the latest boy band craze or some organic alternative song from the nether reaches of Olympia, but they're singing.  To them, this scene is perfect.  I'll tell you... we live in the most beautiful city in the country.  Those of us who know this are the ones who have the urge to pull over on the I-90 bridge to watch the water as it waves against the concrete.  We're the ones who hear the gulls and smile.  We're the ones who can't wait for traffic to slow down a little so we can smell the salt in the air as it breezes through the car windows.

Transplant Seattleites, the ones who have moved here from other places, whine about the rain when it comes, but they forget how much the rain makes us appreciate the sunlight when we have it.  Those of us who are born and raised on oysters and Dungeness are the ones who will tell you that Seattle isn't about the rain or the traffic.  It isn't about the clogged highway or the sealed up, air-conditioned vehicles.  Seattle is a sprawling mecca of natural beauty and a showcase for the simple luxuries that we all take for granted: clean air, blue water, and brilliant, unfiltered sunlight.

That's my Seattle.  That's my Downtown.  Why do I <3 Seattle?  Because happiness is standing on the I-9 bridge, eyes closed, face misty with the spray off the water, the wind whirling around you, and the gulls calling.  My Seattle has traffic problems, but they pale in comparison to the earthly wonders that we are so lucky to have on our proverbial doorsteps.