I’m moving to Seattle. After months of debate, the decision is final. What isn’t final yet, is exactly where I’ll live. I’ve narrowed it down to two places. One is a bigger, cheaper, older, not as nice (but solid) place about 15-20 blocks from downtown. The other is a posher, more expensive, smaller, newer, nicer place right in the city. I’m leaning towards the latter option. The building is 2 years old, super cool looking, has a sweet work out facility, comes with parking, and has an incredible roof with a panoramic view of the entire city. The downside is that the apartment is only 657 square feet! There is a partial view of the skyline from the unit I’m thinking of getting, which is on the fourth floor. What’s coolest about it, though, is that you walk right outside and you’re in the city. I mean a 5-minute walk to the middle of downtown. There are coffee shops, bars, restaurants, and all that a mere 1-2 blocks from the entrance to the building. There’s a little city grocery store right below the building. I think it would be a blast.

I spent several days up in the city looking for places, and man the process is brutal. I worked nights most of last week (Wed-Fri night), and thus on Saturday I drove up into Seattle on about 1 hour of sleep and spent the whole day looking at apartments. By the end of the day, I was falling asleep in my car before driving from one building to the next. I’m glad I did though, because I eventually stumbled across the place I’ll likely move into.

There has been a lot of thought into the decision to move. I’ve always wanted to live in the city, and I figure this is probably the last legitimate shot I’ll have for awhile, and maybe ever. It will be sweet to be a mere walk or cab ride from all my favorite restaurants, bars, movie theaters, and coffee shops. It will be sweet not to have to drive back a half-hour plus on a night out to get home. It’ll be cool to get away from the homogeneity of Tacoma. There are two downsides. I’ll have a smaller place. And the commute. Oh, the dreaded commute will now be 50-60 minutes one way. Sounds horrific, and it is, but since I already drive 30-35 minutes one way its not the end of the world I suppose.

So that’s that, decision to live in city has been made. What remains are the exact logistics of it. To be continued…


Work has been stressful. I’m doing cardiology this month, which is a high stress month as it is. I’ve also spent a lot of time debating what I want to do with my medical career, as I’ve posted up earlier. I haven’t reached any new decisions yet, but the threat of having to make a decision is looming nearer. I’m not fired up about it.

The female situation is not good, again. That is also adding to my stress, and at the worst possible time. I’ll say no more about it here, but everything is sort of coming at me at once.

I will also say that as exciting as moving can be, it also shakes up your whole world. It seems like the one constant in my life is my apartment, and to be giving up something familiar and something secure for something new is sort of unsettling, like having the ground move beneath your feet. It’s not helping with the other stresses.


And lastly, I think I made my final trip to the Federal Way Supercuts today. I’ve been going there and getting bad haircuts for two years now, but with my move upcoming, I don’t think I’ll be going back. I had some angry female hairdresser today. She was all pissed about some “other customer” who had come back in and complained about some fancy styling job that my hairdresser might have botched. She was telling this story to the other stylists while I sat in the chair. She frequently would stop cutting my hair to help tell her story with her hands and became increasingly agitated while I just sort of sat there and grimaced, hoping she wouldn’t take her anger out on my hair.

Well, she butchered me pretty good, and I had wanted it a little shorter than she had cut it. Before I could tell her that, she took that thing off my neck and brushes me off as if to say, “OK, you’re all done”. I paused and told her that I actually wanted a little more of a trim.

“Oh, you want it shorter?!”

She starts to get annoyed and looks really put out. So the next thing I know I’m back in the chair and she starts re-cutting my hair with a vengeance, taking off huge chunks to the point where my eyes get wide. Dude. Once she started, there was no stopping her and I just say there and prayed there would be some hair left. There’s um, some. But it’s basically looks like I took a number 4 clipper to my head and then let it grow out a week. Dude. It’s not a good haircut.

Goodbye Supercuts. Thanks for the memories.