Urban Lindsay's Weblog

Phoenix Lindsay

So as some of you know, the last twelve months in my life have been full of turmoil.  Everything has been in a state of upheaval as I grapple with the obstacles and changes I’ve been faced with: a bitter lawsuit, near-bankruptcy and business failure, the decay of formerly strong relationships, the loss of my career, the opportunity to go to law and business school, the expansion of our company, an upcoming move, a breakup and a Caesar-esque betrayal by some of the “friends” I thought were those whom I could trust most.

These periods of disturbance aren’t unheard of in my life.  Like the Phoenix, every few years my life begins to swirl in anticipation of major change.  At first the change is slow and the obstacles incremental, but gradually they begin to increase in intensity and frequency.  When I enter these periods I unconsciously begin to switch to hibernation mode – building the nest that will become my pyre.  Then, suddenly and all at once, this pensive period of contraction is followed by a short burst of complete destruction where everything I relied on falls apart.  The terms by which I had defined my life are consumed and annihilated in the process.  Inevitably, this phase is accompanied by a sense of darkness, despair, defeat, hurt and anger; these feelings converge and temporarily paralyze my senses.  Then, just as I begin to think that the destruction of my so-called life will in fact destroy me,  I suddenly find myself wiping off the tears and picking myself up to start over again.  I am reborn from the ashes – reinvented, reinvigorated and more determined than ever.

It is one of these periods of self-annihilation from which I am now just beginning to emerge.

This is certainly not the first, nor the last of such rebirths in my life.  My first took place at 18 when I went from a straight-A student in my private school, with college acceptance letters at Georgetown and Dartmouth, to a drop-out who was kicked out of my parents’ homes and had my college offers rescinded.  From what I thought was the bottom I picked myself up, dusted myself off and got back in the saddle.  I ended up with a GED, and ultimately, a double-degree in Asian Studies and Japanese Literature with a minor in Political Science, from the University of Washington – graduating with honors.

The second occurred when I went through a divorce at 24.  Single for the first time in six years, with no money, and having lost some friends in the “settlement”, I started a business and discovered a new life.

The third was at 26.  Having sold my business in Seattle, my then-boyfriend and I moved to Boise – a city where we knew no one.  In our naivety of the impending market crash, we bought a house at the peak of the bubble to “settle down in” and run his business from.  Until . . . we broke up two weeks later.  With no job, a degree and employment history that were useless in Idaho, no money, a mortgage payment to make and no friends, I managed to create what is now the Urban Agent Team, build a fulfilling life and meet some of the most influential and closest friends I’ve ever known.

And now, here I am again.  Facing major changes in my life and setbacks that would have crippled many, I have yet again determined to reinvent myself and begin anew.  Where this path leads has thus far been only partially revealed, but full of hope for the future and determination to succeed, like the Phoenix, I too will rise from the ashes.  Painful lessons have been learned and I’m a stronger person for having survived.  I am confident.  I have no fear.  My resolve is firm – I WILL conquer this next chapter of my life.  I am unstoppable because I am Phoenix Lindsay.

My dearest, beloved buyers (and prospective buyers),

• You are not the only buyers in the world and you are certainly not the only buyers looking for a “steal”.  Of course you’re the only buyers in my world (the only ones that matter anyway), but you aren’t the only buyers in your local market looking for a  __bedroom, __bathroom, __square foot home in __neighborhood for under $__.  In fact, there are LOTS of other buyers just like you (yes, even now).  And guess what?  They’re looking for a great deal too!  Weird huh?  So . . . my advice?  When you see a house that’s priced WELL under market value and is what you’re looking for, don’t a) drag your feet or b) offer $344k less than their asking price or . . . (SHOCKING!) you won’t get the house and someone else – probably one of those other buyers I mentioned that are just like you will (they’re just like you except they’re the FUTURE you.  They’ve already seen other houses they liked & wrote offers on but missed out on them because they offered too less or took too long and someone else bought them).

• The sky is not falling.  Real estate is not going to disappear. Yes, we are in a recession, but ever since they began keeping records on real estate sales data, real estate has been a solid investment if held for THE LONG TERM. (1995: “long term” = 5-7 years  2006: “long term” = 30 days  2010: “long term” = 5-7 years)As illustrated by some economist smarter than me, you can see that if you bought a house in 1980 you’d still have gained equity since you purchased it – both from the market and from paying down your principal – despite the housing crash we’ve recently seen.  Second, real estate is real property and guess what guys???  Last I checked they weren’t planning on making any more land anytime soon. Third, it’s your home.  You live there.  People have to live in houses and people sometimes have to change houses.  I’m pretty sure that’s been going on for centuries and I kinda doubt that’s going to change anytime soon.

• You are not going to make $344 million in real estate investing just because you attended Nouveau Riche University, bought some shitty tapes and attended a Zig Ziglar motivational event. (Umm . . . hate to burst your bubble but Nouveau Riche isn’t a real university.  Nice try. You’d be better off spending your money at the local community college.  Oh – and Zig Ziglar can be counted on for sales secrets circa 1898 when he was last selling). If you still think you’re going to make 34% return on your investment after buying a “beater” and flipping it 24 days later you’re in worse shape than I thought.

• Be patient on REO’s and short sales. Banks don’t “owe” you anything.  Quite frankly, they don’t give a damn about this one individual property that might be your future home (when they have 344 million others throughout the US that are either in the short-sale process or have been foreclosed on).  You and your American home ownership dream are not at the top of their priority list.  Remember that “foreclosure crisis” thing everyone keeps talking about??  The people at the bank that review your offers are just average American citizens overworked for insufficient pay who hate their jobs and their boss (the bank) as much as you do.

• I don’t know if we’re at the bottom of the market and neither do you. If I knew when the ABSOLUTE bottom was I’d be richer than Warren Buffett and I’d likely be doing something besides selling homes to my clients (Like drinking martinis on my yacht in the Mediterranean that was paid for by buying up properties for myself at the bottom of the market and dumping them on idiots at the peak) and if you knew when the bottom was then I doubt you’d have hired me to help you look for a 5 bedroom, 3 bath, fixer upper in the nicest neighborhood in town for $10.

Whew.  Now who’s ready to go house shopping?

Lots of love,
Your favorite Realtor: Urban Lindsay

Divorcing one’s car sounds easier than it is.  For me it was a decision that’s been in the works for years.  In fact, one of the biggest reasons that my ex and I moved to Boise was so that we could afford to buy a house walking and biking distance to EVERYTHING we needed.  We succeeded (though I can’t say the same for our relationship).

That was 4 years ago yet I’m just now putting my foot down and divorcing my car for good.

Why the delay?  Put simply: culture.

It’s impressive what an affect an area’s culture can have on one’s actions.  After my ex and I succeeded in finding our dream home we succeeded in killing our relationship.  I was left high and dry with a house in a town where I knew no one and had no job prospects.  In a testament to tenacity I overcame the odds in true Caesarian form; I created a new career, new friends and a new life.  Veni, vidi, vici – that is everything BUT my car.

Conquering the car culture of Boise was more difficult than I anticipated.  Looking back I can remember the moment that I realized I was, in the words of Dorothy, “a long way from home” (home being Seattle of course).

There was one evening soon after I’d started making new friends when we set out for an evening on the town from my house.  We were starting our evening’s adventures in Hyde Park – a mere 5 blocks from my humble abode:

Stepping out the door, I turned from my walkway onto the sidewalk to begin the short walk to the bar and immediately heard laughter behind me.  I turned to see them hopping into the car.  When I protested that we should walk they acted as if I’d lost my mind.  Sensing that this was an argument I wasn’t going to win with such tenuous (ie – new) friends, I submitted and got into the car.  The door slammed behind me and my fate as a Boise car junkie was sealed.

Okay, I’m a pussy.  Okay, I’m a pushover.  Okay, I’m lazy.  Call me what you like, but the simple truth is that I was introduced into a culture quite different from the one I’d come from.  In Seattle parking was IMPOSSIBLE (and/or expensive).  Owning a car was more of a nuisance than a benefit – and this was BEFORE lightrail there.  Boise, on the other hand, was a car-lover’s wet dream.  When I first learned that parking was free on weekends and that you got 20 minutes free ANY weekday I almost shat my pants.  When I discovered that you could likely find parking (even on the busiest evenings) RIGHT OUT FRONT of where you were going with no more than 1-3 laps around the block I literally had a heart attack.  Then I saw Boise’s version of “traffic” and I couldn’t stop laughing for weeks.  All of this was unheard of; it became obvious why everyone drove everywhere – there was no reason not to.

I can’t say I’m proud of it – or that it makes much sense – or that I stuck to my guns and my values, but I got suckered into the culture that surrounded me.  I let my guard down and my determination slip – until Peter Hurley, the Project Manager at the Portland Office of Transportation, came to my Sustainable Building Advisor class to discuss transportation and land use issues.

I’d already started spending more time in Portland as a result of our company’s impending expansion to that market, and I was familiar with the strong cycling ethos of the city, but when he detailed the programs that they’d put in place and the success that the city had with reducing vehicle miles traveled (VMT) my former commitment to killing my car came rushing back.

I know this may come as a surprise to some of my friends that haven’t gotten out of Boise in FAR too long, but they actually have started to have bike traffic jams in Portland!!

As a result of my new-found commitment to the cause I started digging for resources in Boise.  Lo and behold I found . . . 2.  There are classes OCCASIONALLY about bike safety, commuting basics, etc. but not nearly enough to help create the momentum that we need to get ACHD to finally implement their 700 page, BITCHIN’ “Roadways to Bikeways” plan.

So what did I do?  In typical Urban Lindsay fashion I decided to take on ANOTHER cause.  I Tweeted about it and I talked about it until I tracked down cycling gurus in our community.  Nothing has happened yet, but I can tell you that we are working on putting together downtown bike commuting workshops covering a range of issues from safety and repair to gear and style – and we’re planning to hold them regularly.

And where does this leave me?  For starters – with two bikes in the shop getting retrofitted with baskets & racks for my groceries & laptop, a third bike specifically for my office commute on the way, racking up some impressive “SMT” (sneaker miles traveled), a clear conscience and ZERO gas bills.

Who knew that divorce could feel this good?

Hipsters . . . where does one begin?

Oh I know . . . they’re retarded.  Yes.  I did just say hipsters are retarded and yes, I used the word “retarded” (I’m sorry for being un-PC).

I’ve always considered “hipsters” to be those people who try way too hard and care way too little.  By that I mean, they try too hard to impress others and care too little about the world outside of MacWorld, Anthropologie’s newest collection and who they can outdo with their random, unknown music collection.

Given my overall perception of these so-called “hipsters” I never considered myself to be one.  In fact, I always thought of myself as more of a conscientious objector to all things “hipster”.  I think irony, filth and apathy for the sake of attention are all stupid and simply refuse to participate.

You can imagine my shock then when I received the image above from a friend, entitled “Evolution of the Hipster” and upon examination found many similarities between the appearances of these individuals and myself. (maybe he was trying to gently send me a message?)

My heart raced . . . could I be one of them???

So like any good investigator I examined the evidence:

Exhibit A: me

Exhibit A: full sleeve tattoo in progress.  It fits the description of the circa 2009 female hipster in “Evolution” so I begrudgingly admitted “strike one”.

Exhibit A: thick black glasses.  They aren’t horn-rimmed and I do actually need them to see, but I did spend like $800 on them . .

Exhibit A: BRIGHT red hair.  I love it – if you don’t then screw you.  (another strike???)

Exhibit B: My new Onitsuka Tigers

Exhibit B: My new vintage-reproduction, vegan Asics with a Japanese name.  Need I say more?

Exhibit C: My new bike

Exhibit C: The bike I’m saving up for.

*Gasp* Do people consider me to be a hipster?” I wondered. . .

Terrified and with an impending identity crisis on my hands I turned to the internet to prove to myself that I was in fact NOT a hipster.

I started with the Urban Dictionary and their definition of Hipster:

1. Listens to bands you’ve never heard of.
Nope.  My friends do and burn me CD’s though . . .
2. Has hairstyle that can only be described as “complicated.” (Most likely achieved by a minimum of one week not washing it.)
I don’t choose not to wash it except once a week – I was told NOT to.
3. Probably tattooed.
Umm . . . exhibit A?
4. Maybe gay.
Only sometimes
5. Definitely cooler than you.
Depends on who “you” is.
6. Reads Black Book, Nylon, and the Styles section of the New York Times.
Huh?
7. Drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon. Often.
Gross.  Remove “Pabst Blue Ribbon” though and that changes everything . . .
8. Complains.
Who? Me? No way. That’s stupid.
9. Always denies being a hipster.
Ummm . . . yeah, about this post.
10. Hates the word.
Sentence #3 of this post.
11. Probably living off parents money – and spends a great deal of it to look like they don’t have any.
part a) I wish.  Definitely not – at least until they’re dead.
part b) I don’t just look poor – I really am.  It’s called “entrepreneurship”
12. Has friends and/or self cut hair
I pay my friend!!!
13. Dyes it frequently (black, white-blonde, etc. and until scalp bleeds).
Does bright red fit into that “etc.” catagory?
14.Has a closet full of clothing but usually wears same three things OVER AND OVER (most likely very tight black pants, scarf, and ironic tee-shirt).
Yes.  And yes.  But I only wear the same three things over and over and my pants are only tight because I got fat.
15. Chips off nail polish artfully after $50 manicure.
@NIQUE22 – Shhh!
16. Sleeps with everyone and talks about it at great volume in crowded coffee shops.
Plead the 5th
17. Addicted to coffee, cigarettes (Parliaments, Kamel Reds, Lucky Strikes, etc.), and possibly cocaine.
Mmm, Mmmm, and Mmmmm
18. Claims to be in a band.
I have been known to compare The Urbans to The Partridge Family.
19. Rehearsals consist of choosing outfits for next show and drinking PBR.
Nope.
20. Always on the list.
No, but one of my friends always is – usually Urban Nick, Shea-Z, Famefifteen or Lili Von Shtupp
21. Majors or majored in art, writing, or queer studies.
Does Japanese Literature count?
22. Name-drops.
Uh – does #20 count?
23. May go by “Penny Lane,” “Eleanor Rigby,” etc. when drunk. On PBR. Which is usually.
Does “Urban Lindsay” count if I go by it all the time?

*Gulp* . . . No, it can’t be . . . .

#FML