Why Austin?
I’ve read a number of things over the last year, both on Medium and elsewhere, that all ask the same basic question: Is Austin all it’s cracked up to be? Okay, I’ll bite. I can’t answer this question for you, but hopefully my perspective is at least helpful in understanding how you might answer it for yourself.
First, a short aside. If you’re reading this, you might be wondering why I don’t post to Medium more often. It’s been more than a year since I last posted here, and I’ll tell you, I haven’t missed it. What the hell does this have to do with Austin? For me, Medium is to blogging as the gated community is to the neighborhood, and in a lot of ways, I think what we’re seeing in Austin is a similar phenomenon. You might call it “not having enough skin in the game.”
Why go to the trouble of creating your own, unique place in the universe when someone else appears to have done it for you? Because the place they’ve created isn’t for you, it’s for them. But, I digress. Today I have a selfish motive, different from most of my writing, that compels me to choose Medium for this post. I want to reach exactly the people who don’t know me well or care much about what I have to say, in the hopes that their drive-by consumption might lead them here and afterwords make them reflect on whether they’re spending too much time in a gated community of their own.
You can see a local example of this phenomenon in the so-called Jenga tower that’s currently being built in downtown Austin, a veritable Sears catalog of rich culture and deep, meaningful experiences, ready for you to buy. Its message is epitomized for me in this marketing video:
…An inspiring view from above the city will show that we aren’t above the city at all. Rather, we’re a part of it. It’s when we learn we are one of those sounds adding to what makes this city unique that life becomes richer.
Because Austin is different, and we are different. We each have a community that needs us, a unique tune that calls us away. And ultimately, we are all looking for more of what’s valuable, and less of what isn’t. In this pursuit, we may be the same, but each of our paths will be different.
The Independent. Declare yourself home.
This video sells a tantalizing get-cool-quick scheme:
- Buy an expensive condo
- Jog and ride your bike around downtown
- Buy a motorcycle
- Listen to live music
- Become cool
I hate to break this to you if you’re not already aware, but none of the above will make you cool. In fact, this is one of the great counter-arguments to Austin. Watching things like the video above, many non-Austinites see through the veneer instantly: “That’s bullshit! You can’t become part of a community by just moving into a giant, expensive apartment building!” If you think that’s what Austin’s selling, you’re right to be skeptical: we don’t have that here, just like you don’t have it wherever you are.
If you think those musicians in that hip club you’re sipping wine at will be your neighbors on the 30th floor of this fabulous new life you’re building for yourself, you’re delusional. 90% of this video is not of “you,” the perspective buyer, creating anything for others — it’s all about showing off your special, unique brand of consumerism. There aren’t enough artisanal microbrews or $15 sandwiches in the world to fill the gaping void in your soul that demands meaningful living. It doesn’t matter where you buy them.
A terrible hoax has been perpetrated on everyone who has only seen Austin in fleeting moments at SXSW and ACL. Sure, those festivals are part of what makes Austin great, but those festivals didn’t arise in a vacuum. They were the result of decades of musicians making this city their home. Willie Nelson didn’t just move into a fancy apartment and say, “I declare myself home.” He certainly didn’t move into an area full of live music clubs and start complaining about the noise. He bought in. All the way in.
I can tell you, I do not feel uniquely self-actualized when I’m sitting in traffic on IH-35 for nearly an hour every weekday. Nor do I think that a $15 sandwich from a hip new food truck is the mark of a life well-lived. Those things aren’t why I live here, nor are they enough to convince me not to live here.
I live here because Austin has done right by me for 20 years, and I want to do right by it. I live here because Austin inspires me to stand on the shoulders of giants, and to try to make my own small dent in the universe, because the history of our city shows that so much is possible here. I live here because there are a lot of people and places I care about in this city. I didn’t fall in love at first sight. The process has been more like an arranged marriage, where it isn’t easy to love, but by struggling and trusting one another, you slowly gain a mutual respect and adoration for each other.
If that doesn’t sound inspiring to you, don’t move here. Or at least find another reason to move here. Be the person you want to be, in the place where you belong. Austin is the best city for me, but your results may vary.
I always get a chuckle out of the story of the Harvard MBA and the Mexican fisherman. For those not familiar with it, I suggest watching that short video. The gist is, we love to convince ourselves that we always need more before we can live our dreams. When pressed to explain why we need more, we give answers revealing that we don’t need more at all, but that we’re too afraid to follow our dreams, and accumulating wealth makes us feel better about not being true to ourselves. The fisherman has exactly what he needs to be happy, but the MBA has convinced himself that to be as happy as the fisherman, he first has to get wealthy. How wealthy? It doesn’t matter — it’s only a distraction anyway. Even with infinite wealth, the MBA would still think there was something missing.
I see similarities with how people view Austin. The idyllic formula sold by some seems to require moving here, spending ungodly amounts on rent to live in a hip new building, taking some yoga classes, drinking a few fair-trade coffees, going to trendy bars. And then suddenly one day, everything will click. You’ll have consumed enough energy from the environment to have permission to produce your own. “I’ll move to Austin, and being around super cool musicians and thought leaders will…” — just stop there. Be like the fisherman. Find a place where you’re with the people you love, and do what makes you happy. That might be Austin, but it just as well might not be.
To anyone saying Austin, or “New Austin,” isn’t as good as it’s cracked up to be, you’re probably not wrong, at least in your particular case. There are dozens of reasons why Austin may not be your cup of tea, especially as it gets whiter, more congested, and more expensive every day. I get that. But I think a lot of our other problems stem from the one I’ve described here: misaligned expectations. There are plenty of opportunities to be your true, authentic self in Austin, but that isn’t enough. You still have to actually seize those opportunities over and over again, every day, and you can’t do it from your balcony while staring out at the skyline.
If I have a take-home message, it is this: Don’t believe the hype. We’re not as good, nor as bad, as they (we?) say we are. What’s so great about Austin? We’re all just trying to live one day at a time, in the best way we know how.
Also, breakfast tacos.
