FROM YESTERDAY:
I'm in Minneapolis now.
It's my only layover and then it's on to sunny Honolulu. But for now, I'll have to settle for the land of a thousand lakes.
It's surprisingly hot here. Or, as they say in Minnesotan, “Ooh yeah, it's a scorcher.” Really, I'm just excited to say I've been to Minnesota, although it sort of seems like it's cheating to count layovers as states you've been to.
I made the mistake of befriending these commissioners from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan (population: them and six others). They were very nice, and very chatty, especially this one that looked like Wilford Brimley. Unfortunately, I started chit chat when I saw a piece of paper with a NACo emblem sticking out of Wilford's wife's purse. So that caused me to get into a long, involved conversation about economic redevelopment after military base closures.
Honestly, I can barely keep myself interested in base closures during work hours, I really have nothing to say about it in my free time.
It's almost 1:30 now. Flight takes off in about an hour, so I've got about a half hour to kill before I need to get to the gate.
I'm reading this book (actually, I'm reading like fifty books in order to accommodate my short attention span), but one of them is a collection of short stories by Dave Eggers. Rob got it for me a while back. I forgot his birthday, which I always think is in July, even though it's in June. But I know what I'm getting him, so he can just sit back and have that to look forward to.
Anyway, I'm reading this book. It's called “How We Are Hungry.” And here's my impression of it so far.
Dave Eggers is a really good writer. He is really modern in the way he writes, in a very Generation Y way (even though he must be in his 30s — very Gen X). He has a big mix of skepticism, while remaining self-involved and sensitive. All of his characters have this sort of complexity of light and dark, idealism and cynicism, which I think is probably a big reflection on the way he is.
The stories are all really well-written. He's got this way of describing things that is really acute and funny.
This is my gripe with the book: These aren't really short stories. They're sketches. The stories, which range from 1 page to 25-30, don't really have a beginning, middle or an end. They just feel like glimpses of characters and we aren't ever really given a reason to become involved with them.
And I sort of feel swindled by the lack of meat to the stories. The prose is often awesome, but they feel like novels that were abandoned or short stories that never really found a tone.
The best one I've read so far is called “Quiet,” which is sort of a grim love tale. It ends on an unbelievably awkward note. But it is the one that's closest to an actual story. Plus, it's all about Scotland and they talk about the Highlands, Edinburgh and the Isle of Skye, so it made me nostalgic.
Okay, I should get going.
———————-
The flight was a lot rougher than I imagined. Just going west for soooo long and having the day last like 13 hours was enough to make my circadian rhythms go all out of whack.
Emily is letting me stay with her and, lucky for me, they inexplicably gave her two full size beds. So my accommodations are rather plush.
Impressions of Hawaii in the 4 or 5 hours I've been here (conscious).
– The air is so much better here. Even walking around in the city, you can breathe in this ocean air. It's jarring, but it's nice.
(I stopped right there for some reason…. I'm not picking it up)
———————–
Being outside and on the internet seems inherently wrong, but whatever. And I really shouldn't be blogging if I'm in fucking Hawaii.
Oy, you know you're among county people when you're in Hawaii and you hear some Southern guy drawl “Tell you what.”
I'll blog about my Hawaiian advenutres later. Probably tonight when I am going to bed. But I'll leave you with this:
I am usually pretty meticulous/obsessive about having everything i need and not fogetting anything. I was sure to pack all the right amounts of clothes. However, I had to switch bags as I was packing because the bag I was packing in was too small.
During the transfer, something was amiss. That thing?
I packed zero pairs of underwear. I have socks, I have shoes, I have the appropriate mix of dressy and casual shirts. However, as I did my hike on the Wa'ahila Trail today, I stood atop Honolulu's Mt. Olympus, going commando.
My lesson out of all this? Going commando is not for me. I finally found reasonably priced boxers (albeit ugly — no way I'm taking anyone home wearing these). So that's that.
