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Moving to Denver (Part 1)

First, a weird little rant:

The first thing that struck me about Idaho--after waking up from a short nap in the passenger seat--was how very little the land seems to have been utilized. The second thing that struck me--after several hundred miles of empty plains--was how very little the land seems to have been utilized despite the brutal massacres of Native peoples from whom we took it.

For what it's worth, "Idaho" is a Shoshoni phrase that translates roughly to the joyous exclamation, "The sun is coming down the mountain!" Seems like a pretty good effort at "cultural tolerance," right?

 

Anyway, not sure where that little rant came from. The drive has been pretty good so far, despite involuntarily taking part in a bird's suicide.

I'm driving out with my dad and we're currently staying in a hotel in Jerome, Idaho, right next to the Flying J Truck Stop. Classin' it up. The hotel smells exactly like a public restroom, by which I mean urine mixed with the smell of artificial urinal pee-fresheners. I'm not complaining though, I definitely appreciate it more than it puts me off...but that's not to say that I enjoy the smell, just that I enjoy the experience.

I also happened to have finished the better part of what may be the worst hot dog I've ever eaten. I can't choke down the rest, so Muscle Milk is my dinner. Again, I very much enjoyed the experience of eating the hot dog in this bizarre little trucker demi-town. I did not so much enjoy the hot dog itself.

So I guess what I'm trying to say in this post is that I think I get an unusual amount of pleasure out of meta-appreciating less-than-ideal situations; or to put it in a more needlessly abstract way, out of appreciating the contexts in which I don't appreciate the content that the context provides.

I think that's my version of what people mean when they say, "Try to find the best in every situation." I can't really identify with that kind of sentiment because it seems pretty non-specifically optimistic. But I can certainly identify with enjoying the absurdity of the everyday, minuet disappointments like a horrible hot dog or acting as the medium for birdy suicide.

I hear that comedy is one of the best ways to appreciate these sorts of things. Maybe I should be a clown.

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