Old enough to vote: Silicon Florist is 18 years old

Eighteen years. That’s how long Silicon Florist has been bumbling along, trying to make sense of Portland’s ever evolving startup community. (Okay. Technically, it was me bumbling. The blog was just the output.) But now, that blog is suddenly old enough to vote. All because I decided to register a URL at 2:00AM on August 7, 2007, wrangle a WordPress install over the next day or two, and start to consistently write about what I was seeing in the Portland startup community. (Note: I said “consistently.” Not “successfully” or “artfully” or whatever.)

The blogging part wasn’t new for me. I’d been blogging in various incarnations since the days when you used to have to write code to put words on the Internet. But this time, the motivation was different.

This time, it wasn’t about me pontificating. About me having a platform to spout my opinions out into the ether. About me. This time, it was about recognizing and celebrating all of the interesting folks in my midst. Developers who took the opportunity to share something they had built. Bloggers who put an interesting perspective out into the world. Event organizers who brought people together. And a small but growing community of folks who were working on any number of companies that were being described as what, at the time, was a relatively nascent concept — at least locally — called “a startup.”

And I had absolutely no idea that it would be something I would continue to do — a labor of love — for more a third of my life, so far.

I continue to write here because it’s my love letter to Portland. And to Portland startups. And Portland founders. A testament to my belief in each and every person who calls Portland home. And a testament to the creative folks who delight and inspire us everyday. To the culture of craft that drives our community.

And for some reason, it’s that aspect of the whole consistency thing that’s been striking to me this time around. Not all that I’ve written. Not all of the opportunities that writing here has availed. Not the insights I’ve gained by doing this for such a long time. But the fact that I seem to just consistently do it. Day after day. Week after week. Year after year. Not because someone pays me to do it. Not because I’m trying to make it into a job. Not because it’s a means to an end.

I do this because I enjoy doing it. And I hope that in some small way that it helps you. And the community.

This is a hobby. A bad habit, if I’m being honest. That I just keep showing up to do every single day. Like Milton. No, not that Milton. Not the renowned poet. Like the other Milton. And like you’re my red stapler.

(I mean, there was that one relatively short period of time — 2011 to 2016 — when paying attention to you and your peers and the whole startup community was actually my day job. And that was a glorious existence while it lasted. But other than that, it’s always been a hobby. A labor of love.)

Eighteen years in, it continues to feel fresh and different. Every single day. But lately it has also begun to feel… eerily familiar. We’re not swept of up in a “startup scene” like we once were. We’re not the darlings of The New York Times. Or the regular subject of sketch comedy. Things have receded on most all of those fronts. But now, there are pockets of activity again. Startups quietly building. A recurring mention of the same company now and again. Founders finding one another in random corners of the city. And the occasional whisper that “something’s happening.”

But while there are interesting sparks of things happening, here and there. The current version of the community lacks that singular cohesive momentum. That feeling that most everyone is rowing in the same direction. Or at least floating in the same body of water. With oars.

It feels like 1995. Or 2005. A building of a new cycle. It’s all happened before. And yet, it never happens the same way twice. Maybe that’s what makes this community so interesting. It’s never been about hockey sticks or unicorns. It’s been about persistence. A slow, awkward, wonderfully odd dance between creativity and chaos. Between “let’s try this again” and “what if we did it this way this time?”

And that’s why it feels like writing about this stuff — documenting the journeys of local founders and the community — is now more important than ever.

(I’m also willing to admit that 1995 and 2005 are reference points that feel important for me personally. Since I discovered startups in 1995. And then started building companies of my own in 2005. And because I was so consistently inspired by what I saw around here, that I felt that I started writing about it. Again, not because it was a job. But because I was inspired. And enthralled. And I wanted to share that with other people.)

Even the blog has changed ever so slightly over the years. I mean, what do you do when you’ve been writing a blog for 16 years and you notice the readership starting to trail off — even though people are still consistently asking you about what’s going on and who is doing what? You start reading it to them by starting a YouTube channel, obviously. Because nothing says timely and relevant like pivoting to video in 2023.

Sure sure. It’s giving big “Hello, fellow kids” energy watching an old dude with a gray beard talk into a camera every week. But honestly? That rickety ass pursuit also feels an awful lot like the early days of this blog. Just me, awkwardly talking to you. With incredibly poor grammar and chockfull of run on sentences. Only it’s coming out of my mouth instead of from a keyboard.

Same mediocre delivery. Same imposter syndrome. Slightly better lighting. Maybe.

But it’s motivating. Like the blog was back in 2007. And continues to be today. It’s not polished. It’s not slick. It’s not even good. (Come to think of it, that’s exactly the same thing that the blog is, and remains to this day.) But it is yet another way to keep showing up. To keep capturing the little moments and amazing products and interesting people who make Portland’s startup community what it is — whatever it is. And it’s the opportunity to celebrate the people in our community in a way that’s more digestible. Even it’s not that palatable.

So, yeah. Eighteen years in, I’m still watching. Still writing. Still promoting. Still cheerleading. Still hopeful. And still marveling at all of you doing the work. And the work you do.

Thanks for letting me continue to show up and continue celebrating the founders trying to start something new. Thank you for letting me be your little oasis of overly promotional content in a sea of aggressive humility.

Wait. An oasis can’t be in a sea, can it…? It’s an island in the water or an oasis in the desert, right…? Clearly, I need to add “poorly constructed metaphors” to that list of shortcomings.

It’s a birthday. And I’m celebrating. Happy Birthday, Silicon Florist. You don’t have to celebrate. But you can. In lieu of gifts, however, maybe consider subscribing to YouTube, the podcast, or the newsletter. Or maybe simply by sharing your profile with other folks in the community. Or if you’re a real glutton for punishment, join me on Patreon.

Whatever the case, here’s to another year of sharing your stories and being your hype man. Because you deserve it. People need to know about what you’re building. And that thing you’re working on…? It’s awesome.

Hang in there. And until we get the chance to chat again, please keep up the good work.

Previous Silicon Florist birthday posts

Birthdays make you nostalgic? Me too! So if you feel like wallowing in that nostalgia with me, please have at it. Here are a bunch of old birthday posts from yesteryear.

• Silicon Florist is two today. What a short strange trip it’s been.
• Time for big kid pants: Silicon Florist is three years old
• Four years and seven hours ago… Silicon Florist is four
• Half a decade later: Thank you for putting up with bad grammar, ridiculously long headlines, haphazard posting schedules, and an all too rosy view of the Portland startup scene
• Six years of Silicon Florist (or How a poorly written blog with ridiculously long headlines somehow spawns awesome things like PIE, TechFestNW, and Oregon Story Board)
• Golden birthday: It’s August 7 and Silicon Florist turned seven years old today
• Silicon Florist is eight. And eight is great. Or something. And stuff.
• Nine years of nonsense: Silicon Florist completes another year of assaulting the English language
• The more things change, the more they stay the same: 10 years of Silicon Florist babbling about the Portland startup community
• It goes to 11: Silicon Florist is officially a tween (Fair warning: This one is really really dark. But you can skim past that if you want some interesting historical context.)
• A dozen long stemmed Rose City years: Silicon Florist is 12 years old
• Officially a teenager: Silicon Florist turns 13 years old
• Another year older, none the wiser: Silicon Florist is 14 years old
• Silicon Florist is 15 years old… so I’m taking a sabbatical from it. It’s old enough to stay by itself for a bit.
• Old enough to drive: Silicon Florist is 16 years old
• Wondering when the whole “wiser” part happens: Silicon Florist is 17 years old

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