Opportunity knocks

I received a welcome call this afternoon. Tomorrow I'll meet with an editor about a job as a reporter. Yay! Don't know if I'll be the one selected, but at least I have a chance.
Today I fared marginally better on the two sample test segments i took. If I can carry that through to the entire test, I'll bump my score up by about 4 points, which is just enough to give me a solid chance of getting accepted to a second tier school like UH. I will definitely need to not only improve my test-taking skills but a little luck to pull this off. Make that a lot of luck.
Today, while I was strolling through Hilo Town shopping for Ron's birthday gifts, a man, sitting on a concrete divider wall with his buddy, shouted out a hearty "aloha" to me as I walked by. I didn't know him and he didn't know me. He was just being friendly. I returned the greeting. That was nice. The aloha spirit is alive and well.
I'll take a few pictures downtown tomorrow en-route to or from my interview if the weather holds. It was spectacular in Hilo today, the sun shining, palm trees swaying and old, plantation-era buildings standing proud against a blue sky. But alas, I had no camera. What a maroon.
A hui hou. Aloha!

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Born and bred

The creature stared at me, wide-eyed through the florescent glare, Saran Wrap stretched tight across its broad back. Alone in the seafood cooler, he was the only one of his kind, there among the farmed, color-added Atlantic salmon and mud-flavored tilapia, perched on a blue foam tray, legs tucked 'round him like a comfy kitten. He didn't blink. He was dead, red, cooked and chilled, ready to eat. Such a find is rare in the City Market fish department in Gunnison, Colorado. What if nobody takes him home? I thought. This beautiful animal will have died needlessly, ripped from his home, family and friends (Dory, Nemo, Crush and Gill?) only to be tossed in the trash when his expiration date came and went. I lifted him for closer inspection, checked that date, felt the heft of him, scanned his surface for cracks and blemishes. The creature was perfect. I lowered him back into the cooler, nodded farewell, turned to walk away, took one step, and stopped. Shoppers strolled past, stud

General goofiness

I was driving home from an abbreviated shift at work last night when I turned on the radio and heard Bob Dylan singing Everybody Must Get Stoned . I was reminded of a placard I once saw at a Dairy Queen in Colorado that read, Everybody Must Get Coned . So it occurred to me, there navigating through the misty darkness, that with a slight modification, this could be a great slogan for a number if different businesses. Here's my list. Telecommunications company: Everybody must get phoned . Cutlery shop and knife sharpening services: Everybody must get honed . Credit Union: Everybody must get loaned . Brothel: Everybody must get moaned. Winery: Everybody must get Rhoned . Fitness Center: Everybody must get toned . Local planning commission: Everybody must get zoned . Bio-research company: Everybody must get cloned. Doggy daycare: Everybody must get boned. Manufacturer of modern, unmanned spy planes: Everybody must get droned . Reader of corny mottoes and slogans listed on a chees

Re-writing Twain: Adendum

The best thing about rants, at least among the civilized, is that someone smart always makes a valid point to the contrary. My fellow University of Alaska Anchorage classmate, Wendy, directed me to this column, written recently for the New York Times by a writer I admire, Lorrie Moore . She's on both sides of editing Twain issue, and for good reason, posing the notion that maybe Mark Twain was never intended to be children's literature and that that is the problem. Give it a read, then tell me what you think, if you're so inclined. It was Flannery O'Connor who said, "The fact is that anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information to last him the rest of his days." No matter how idyllic one's childhood, no matter how hard grown ups try to protect their young charges, trauma happens, sometimes the likes of which no child should endure. Stories that reflect this are often the fodder for great literature, stories not necessarily suitable for y

Mountains and Islands

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