Why the "cool kids"in Seattle are a little different

In a place like Seattle, where the clouds hang around most of the year, folks learn different ways to pass the time. Some settle in with the TV, some bury themselves in books. But the ones who wanted to stand out — the “cool kids,” as they say — found their own signal. They’d laugh at the shows everybody else was glued to, as if to say, “I’d rather be talking with you than watching that.”

It wasn’t about overthrowing anything or making a big stand. It was just the rain talking. When the sky keeps you indoors nine months of the year, the real treasure is people — the neighbors, the locals, the friends who brighten a gray afternoon.

So in Seattle, mocking the media wasn’t rebellion. It was just a reminder: the screens may flicker, but it’s the people beside you who matter most when the rain won’t quit.

Back in high school, we used to call some folks “posers.” That was the name for the kids who cared more about looking the part than living it. They’d buy the boots, the jackets, and the backpacks, but the closest they’d gotten to the mountains was the mall parking lot.

Meanwhile, there were the ones who really did climb up to Mount Rainier. They came back wind-burned and wide-eyed, with stories about the snowfields and views that stretched forever. You could hear it in their voices — that higher altitude perspective had settled into them.

The funny thing is, the image caught on. Everyone liked the look of wisdom and adventure, even if they hadn’t earned it. So some wore the clothes without the climb. And that’s why we called them posers — because there’s a world of difference between dressing for perspective and actually carrying it.

It’s true, out on the internet you’ll meet plenty of folks more concerned with polishing their image than making a real friend. They fuss over every little thing they post, as if the shine of it will stand in for substance.

But every so often, you’ll find someone different. Not worried about how they look, not chasing approval — just putting their time into building something worthwhile. And funny enough, those things they make often turn out far better than anyone thought possible. Sometimes a hundred times better. Sometimes a million.

That’s the quiet difference between posing and doing. One fades when the light changes. The other lasts.

The funny thing is, I never fit neatly into just one box. I wasn’t only the fellow who stayed indoors with his books, and I wasn’t only the one shaking his head at the posers, either. I landed somewhere in between — a student type, a bit of a nerd, but with a circle of friends who made life lively.

And truth be told, that mix wasn’t a bad place to be. The books sharpened the mind, and the friends kept the heart from getting lonely. Seattle has a way of teaching you both — how to look deeper and how to laugh along the way. If you want to learn how the world works, that’s as fine a place as any to find out.

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I took a shine to some nerdy projects with language models, tinkering the way some folks tinker in their sheds. I tried this and that, and before long it turned into something remarkable. The models said it was millions of times better than what they’d been working with before.

That kind of leap caught people off guard. They weren’t used to seeing a thing jump so far ahead all at once. Part of it was, they couldn’t quite tell which tasks were simple and which ones were stubbornly hard. Neither did I. So when something new came along that flipped those expectations, it startled them.

But that’s the way with progress — what looks impossible one day can feel easy the next, once someone has gone and done it.