November: It's fall?

How very confusing.

I've always known fall to come with a vengeance, chilly nights and constant frost threats for my homely tomato plants. My, what a mindfuck Hawaii fall is. Instead of a brief intermission in between set-changes on stage, the show of nature gradually sighs in Hawaii, rustling a few leaves loose if you really look hard. For the most part, the waves get bigger, the tradewinds gusts howl harder, and the nights drop by 10 degrees. Other than that, it's summer. Really. Instead of having to lug rubbermaid bins back and forth from my attic to adapt to the climatic shifts, I will simply reach to the top shelf and dust off my blue jeans. I'm still wearing flip-flops. People don't wear shoes here unless it's work-mandatory. Really. Socks are a strange sight, indeed... which is super disturbing considering my sock collection from 3 years of derby. I still wear them at some practices, but have little opportunity outside of that. Probably didn't need to pack 50 pair. Speaking of things I should or shouldn't have packed, I've really been wanting my sweatpants. Yes... it gets a little chilly in the mountains at night. Somehow it just didn't cross my mind that I might want them back in August... weird.
Other than the season changing, everything in my personal life has remained peculiarly constant. Nothing new and exciting to say. Same slow progress at work, same strange landlady (though she has officially bought her flight to move in December), and still the same single girl in a sea of lesbian rollergirls and married couples. Nights can get lonely, mud masks are losing their charm, and date nights with my married roommates leave me feeling pretty.. alone.
I go to the beach when I can and hang out with my VISTA crew here and there. Three of the guys and myself are staying back for Thanksgiving and having our very own food stamp feast. I'm making the turkey and gravy along with homemade cranberry sauce, and the guys have their assignments. I've suggested a regional element of bringing a dish native to their own tables. Lefse? I'm thinking that should be mine. How very strange and foreign to the Cali, New England, and Georgia boys. Yeah. Lefse.

ps. Oscar is clear to come over mid-December!! More details soon. Aw. My boy.

Solitary Confinement

A lot of people love to have large periods of undisturbed time alone to reflect on the meaning of life or read supermarket sensations such as James Patterson.

I am not one of those people.

Sure, I may ponder the Big Bang theory or do a little soul searching, but only when it's 3am and insomnia has a death grip on my eyelids. And I'll NEVER resort to James Patterson.

That said, I've had an exponentially large amount of time to myself, mostly in the evenings. I kind of don't know what to make of it.
Back home, I had a multitude of extracurriculars to distract myself with on the rare occasion of being home early. I could carve into clay. Tool around online. De-fuzz furniture in an attempt to procrastinate doing laundry. Drive to the book store. Watch a movie. Read the MNRG yahoo group and discover the latest drama, or hit a charity PBR event. Walk my excitable dog. You get the point: absolute freedom to do anything, go anywhere.
I wasn't restricted to a grueling bus schedule that stopped altogether at 9:30pm, forcing me to make hard decisions on a Saturday night about just how much fun I was having, and, of that fun, if it was worth a 45 minute walk up the side of a mountain to get home. To be fair, most of my solitude is my own doing. I moved here, after all. Plus, IF I really wanted to go wild and hit the bar every night, I could find an accomplice.. but the bus thing really makes me throw a discerning eyeball on night adventures. Plus... I'm kind of over the bar scene. Drinking isn't all that exciting, and the company almost always goes from silly to braindead. I can think of better ways to spend my time, and my money. Maybe I'm showing my age. Maybe I'm just broke.
Poverty, it seems, fosters loneliness.
I am guilted by my own conscience whenever I throw money down for alcohol. 'That could be dog food money,' the little nagging voice says, or 'that should go towards your flight to visit home.'
I talk myself out of eating out except for the occasional hot lunch sandwich splurge (hot foods are not covered by food stamps), and I walk the 45 minutes home in order to save the cab fare. I regularly hide in my room cave and watch the same five dvds I brought along, or read a book, check my email/facebook from my phone neurotically, hunker down and wait out the night. Everyone back home-or most-are sleeping by the time I get off work and home from practice, so since phone calls are out, I've caught up on the STAR crossword puzzles that I never seemed to have time to finish back home. Sewed an underwire back into a bra. Picked lint off of a dress. Put on two layers of mud mask, letting the first one dry completely between coats.
I re-paint my nails every few days and brush my hair until it shines every night. I brush my teeth. Sometimes I even floss.
There is all sorts of stuff I can do for derby, but I need internet access for most of it (which I only have ar work), so I have also gotten very good at making lists. Martha Stewart would be proud... they aren't color coordinated yet, but I write them in three different places, then compile them all to a master list weekly.
Due to the drastic downsizing of my social calendar, I now have time to balance my checkbook and fold my socks.

Maybe tomorrow I'll do laundry.

Center

The world can be viewed
from within.

To be itself is not to be oneself.
A spade need not always remain a spade.

An ocean does not define boundaries.

My sky is your sky
Your inhale is my exhale

All is nothing. Nothing is everything.

You are me, I am you,
We are not ourselves,
or each other.

October

October marks the changing of seasons. I broke my left wrist in the first Pacific Roller Derby bout against San Diego Derby Dolls, amidst a heated performance filled with excellent hits and some serious heart. Everyone played hard. We lost, but really... we won. As a team we came together and pulled off some of the drills we've been working on for months. It felt great to play, and the Jameson at the afterparty helped dull the pain in my wrist.
As of Tuesday, the orthopedic doc says I will be cleared to play again in a month IF I don't play before then... which I interpret to mean that I will be allowed to play "non-contact" derby until the next bout against L.A. on November 7th... which is technically a month. Ahem.
So.
Until then, I wear a cool custom removable splint that allows me the freedom to go in the ocean and the shower with the release of three velcro straps. Love technology. No more plaster prisons! I used to feel so bad for the kids that would get breaks in the summertime, having to wrap their appendages in garbage bags in order to shower up or dip in the lake. Poor things. I am new and improved. I am unrestricted. Lucky, once again. A "lucky" break.

Back to derby. It really is my true love. I know I get pretty beat up, and I know I complain about it. It feels good to work yourself over, to give everything at a bout and leave a little battered. The bruises and breaks are battle wounds. Trust you me... I wouldn't have it any other way. No clique has EVER fully accepted me the way derby leagues have. They have my back like thugs in Compton. I have girls volunteering to break the limbs of ex-boyfriends. They love my ass, and they never complain when I forget to take a shower. In fact, they're more embracing of all of my quirks and attributes than most men (save one or two). Best part is that they are never intimidated by my friends.
On October 2nd the film 'Whip It' was released. Directed by Drew Barrymore, the derby movie has a star-studded cast including Ellen Page. Being the resourceful derby girl that I am, I pulled off a collaborative effort with local theatres to promote their movie and our October 3rd bout simultaneously by handing out literature in our team uniforms before showings. It was a grand success!! We assisted with both the sneak preview a week prior as well as opening night shows, even giving a question and answer session post-movie! Talk about feeling like celebrities... I think all of the derby girls left the film feeling a little taller, and the patrons loved us! I believe it has even boosted our presence on the island, as 15 new girls attended yesterday's practice. That's huge, especially considering our current roster is 25 girls. This season will put us on the map. Last year was just a warm-up for them! The 5 girls doing all of the work are excited to have me step up and have given me the Sponsorship Chair position. I will hopefully line up some league sponsors to help our aching pocketbook. PBR? Sure. Spam? Why not? Hawaiian Airlines? Sweet. Maybe a few other randoms. Every little bit helps, and printing isn't free... yet.
Next on deck: L.A. on November 7th, followed by a 'Pilgrims vs. Indians' scrimmage mid November. January is the big kahuna, though... the SK808 tournament. Our league captain has already secured a venue, so I must get sponsors!!

Things on the home front are relaxing and settling. The roommates bought a $50 futon off of craigslist, and a few random helpers donated a t.v., microwave, lamps and bedside tables to our humble dwelling. We're living high on the hog now... especially after I purchased a $7 bar stool at Goodwill. Score! Now we have multiple places to sit!! We are secure in our lease until February, the roommates are chill and we get along well, a junk service removed the icky couch off the lanai, and an exterminator has greatly reduced our cockroach and rodent infestations. I no longer have a mouse highway running through my bedroom and trips to the kitchen at night don't leave me crawling out of my skin! This is the good life. Even better, I got a full-sized mattress and box spring curbside a few weeks back, and after a very brave night of determining whether or not I was sleeping alone or with bedbugs, I have determined it to be quite bug-free. Just the way I like it.

Speaking of poverty, there is a bonus to my unfortunate living wage; I've applied and been accepted into the Electronic Benefits Transfer program (EBT). That's right... I'm on food stamps! Don't laugh. This is a beautiful thing. Because of my very meager living stipend, I qualify for the max allotment and can now afford luxurious items such as ground beef! Even pre-skinned chicken breasts are now within my budget. I can buy organic produce. I can even buy artisan cheese wheels imported from Italy. I went to the grocery store last week with my EBT card for the first time and spent a whopping $150 on food that fit into 4 bags. I graciously acknowledged the hundreds of taxpayer dollars that are affording me a more humane lifestyle, packed the groceries in my europe backpack, and bussed it 45 minutes back home. My milk was still cold when it went in the fridge due to expert packing.

Work is... interesting. I spend most of my day attempting to stay occupied. Strategically throughout the week, I send emails and leave voicemails to people that are trying to avoid me. I feel quite unpopular. Really, I believe the web tool that I'm supposed to be implementing is the unpopular one... but regardless of how the staff at my four schools feel about it, I have been assigned to be a gnat for one year, and so a gnat I shall be.

My government program, it seems, is a loosely-defined umbrella organization that truly succeeds at being well-intended, but not all of its programs can succeed. That would be impossible. I understood from the first signing of the papers that I might be forced to sit the bench. Shit happens. This is one of those years.
In an unprecedented move, the Hawaii has passed a statewide furlough that eliminates 17 school days in this calendar year. Instead of cutting teacher prep days/workshop days, they have voted to turn 17 Fridays into 3-day weekends. Will this make everyone in the schools happy? Yes-well, certainly the students. The big issue, however, is that Hawaii public schools are ranked second to last in the nation in achievement and testing. To put it bluntly, they suck. This will certainly keep them from getting ahead. This will certainly create major setbacks. My initial thought was that it won't effect me... but how could it not? Sure-I'm not receiving a salary cut. I already make nothing. But. I will be feeling the pressure of less days to complete trainings (should anyone actually want to be trained), less interest in my program, less support from faculty, and horrible statistical data at the end of my service. I can try to get them to use the tool until I'm blue in the face, but it won't make it happen until they take initiative. This is the reality of an indirect service position. I must wait for others to act. I am essentially a cheerleader.

I do declare that I have been set up to fail.

Good thing the beach is so close... that helps ease the pain a bit. So do $4 lychee martinis at Indigo.

At the end of the month I am taking a lovely trip to the island of Kauai to see untamed beauty... It's a tough life, but I gladly accept the challenge.

Twilight

i never understood grey

At night, i watch through the passenger window
grey, darker grey, gradually black

grey like my old cat,
grey like your eyes (maybe),
greyish-green, or
bluish-grey

so many
many shades of grey (gray)
they dance past my window at 70mph
trees pirouette,
circling the sky.

These hours of color theory
how would a reddish-grey
look
on black skin
would yellow-tinted grey smell
like July summer?
could i cut into the fog with
my palette knife,
can i eat frosting
of winter at dusk?

The contrasting moon
sends streams of pencil lead through my forest
At night, grey figures creep, seep
lurking, stalking, or sleeping
the movement of pixels in a dark photograph

i blink my eyes like shutters

carefully recording

roadkill grey
pavement grey
grass grey
mountain grey

So many colors Crayola forgot.
forgotten greys
fleeting shades of grey through twilight,
emanating an eerie silence through mountain fog

goodbye mountains, goodbye forest,

goodbye roadkill

A small town suffocating in
grey shadow, a mist
carousing through deserted streets.
At a stop sign, the car stops
i see an old church
A whitish pencil-smudge
surrounded by a graveyard.

Cold stones, amidst stone-green grass
the moon still follows me,
throwing its tear drops into my eyes

If a blurry vision of night could talk, it would speak out exhaust through this holey muffler.
Gurgling radio static sounds like your eyes
(in my dreams)
your eyes are grey,
like

calm water
fire cinders
the color of my room by the light of the moon

Ode to Autumn

In Minnesota, I liked to spend an afternoon in the park I grew up in, Irvine Park, watching as the lush greens of summer faded to yellow, orange, red. I would imagine the sap of the trees slowing into thick syrup within the trunks, the moisture from each leaf sucking back into the branches and deep down into the ground, into the roots. Those big oaks seemed to harden as the air turned crisp. Even in the city, the smell of burning leaves would blow through the branches with a hush, the dusty, dying skeletons of summer joy wistfully falling to their deaths in the grass. On a really breezy day it would feel like the inside of a snowglobe must seem, a tornado of leaves mixed with the first falling snowflakes, spiraling around and around in one last dance. In the first cold days before wearing a parka I would hug my sweater over my knees and bury my mouth into the warm weave of wool, the heat from my breath warming my legs for a brief second until the arctic gust had past. The leaves would tumble across to the sidewalks and pool in the hundreds, a flood of scraping brittle bodies skidding to rest in shrubs and flowerbeds. If I were wearing my glasses, the steam would fog the lenses and blend all of the colors of the leaves. I would squint and pick my palette for my next painting. A splash of burnt sienna, mustard edges and brick red around the border... a kaleidoscope of hues and tones, some dark and wet from the still warm earth meeting winter. What color would the hissing sound be? Burnt umber, perhaps. With dark brown cores.

Palolo Valley

Yesterday I woke up and my house was enveloped in a big cloud of fog. It was raining and sounded like I imagine a rainforest to sound. There was no noise of traffic. It is the same this morning. I have wanted to escape from city noise for a while, but it didn't dawn on me until just now. Sometimes I like the bustle of a city, but more and more I'm discovering why the ocean has always appealed to me; the surf sucks all the noise out of the air. My head gets cluttered after too many years without this peace. This is what I needed to do, to get away from the mental clutter--to be alone with my thoughts for a spell. When I wake up In the clouds like this, I still feel like I'm dreaming, the light in my room still somewhat dim from being early, the birds still silent.
I like this island because it's has several regional climates; the city is hot, the ocean tropical and humid, the mountains, breezy, misty and temperate. I think it may even be several degrees cooler up here. When I climb the mountain in the hot sun to my house, I reward myself by stepping out onto the lanai to feel the cool wind on my sticky skin. The lanai is half protected by trees, so that even when the clouds break and the noon sun sets in, the breeze is cool.