Saturday, November 5, 2011

The Suicide That Is Seattle

For full effect, download "Heart-Shaped Box" by Nirvana and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.

0.01% of the American population will at some point in their lives attempt or commit suicide. Substantially larger, 10% of anyone who is diagnosed with schizophrenia is statistically prone to swallow the pills or pull the trigger as well.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
I'm a scizophrenic,
And so am I.

Seattle is the most depressing city in the entire country. Statistically. More people are on anti-depressant medication per capita in Seattle than any other city in America. In relation, there are more suicide attempts in Seattle than anywhere else. Perhaps its the 300 days of overcast and rainy weather that monopolizes on people's depression.

Professionally, the number one career for suicide in the country is dentistry. No, not an undertaker, or drug dealer, but a guy who pulls teeth and fills cavities for a living. With that being said, if you're a schizophrenic dentist who's hometown is Seattle, you might as well book a spot on top of the Space Needle ready to jump off. The numbers are clearly not in your favor.

Aside from the suicidal statistics and initiatives, I will say that Seattle is actually a nice place. I really don't mind the hustle and bustle. And the fact that my career is headed down the path of higher education, and not down a persons throat with floss, makes me think that I might survive up here after all. I also deem the fact that I don't have any hysterical delusions or hallucinations floating through my consciousness as a benefit to my survival.

The fair is dying down as the recruiters around me have started to pack up shop and board the trains for the next fair starting up in less than 24 hours. Next to me, Samara's psychotic mother keeps humming the same four random notes over and over again. This lady is definitely, the definition of insanity.

Just watching the kids pass by I am amused at how many of them are toting a Starbucks. I mentioned this yesterday, but this drink seems to be the water and lifeblood that they survive with. I've never tasted coffee in my life before, but I will say that the fragrance of coffee is divine, an aroma that I think would be as marketable as Cosmo Kramer's "The Beach". Heck, it smells so good, I might just make some coffee in the morning to wake up.

Awkward commercial trio: "The best part of waking up, is the smell of Folger's in your cheapened roadside motel."

At least I think that's how the commercial jingle went.

I have a three-hour drive ahead of me down to a place called Portland? I think that's what it's called. Before I hit the road I might run down to the fisherman's market on Pike Street and watch them famously toss halibut and salmon back and forth while Asian tourists hold up their smartphones and get 24-second video clips that they'll laugh about later with their relatives. It's still a sight to see though as the vendors swarm you with freshly snagged shrimp the size of your fist.

The lights start to turn off as a meager student approaches my booth, the last kid that I'll talk to here at this fair.

Meager Student: "So what kind of programs does your college offer?"

Swamp Thing: "Well it depends, what do you want to do with your life? I always tell every student that I talk with to do what they love, do what they have a passion for. Do you know what you want to do?"

Meager Student: "Well, I've gone back and forth, but I think that I really want to be a dentist."

Cut to blank stare from Swamp Thing. I think I should book an early appointment for this kid with Dr. Frasier Crane.

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