I love animals. I love my dog. I love that other people are as into pets as I am. They are loyal companions and excellent roommates that never bitch at you for forgetting to buy toilet paper or coming home late. They will patiently cross their legs for ten hours when you have to work a crazy double shift, and they are always happy to see you.
I relocated to Hawaii to be a volunteer for an accredited governmental program assisting the war on poverty. I make less than minimum wage and qualify for food stamps. I am rewarded for my service to America and my relocation to another state with incredulous amounts of paperwork and a 4 month waiting period in order to bring my dog along, with bucketloads of stress to find affordable housing in my meager price range that allows him. Affordable housing is hard enough. Figure in a 50 lb dog and a poverty level budget, and you have yourself a challenge. Getting him here is yet another.
Hawaii animal control says that this system is in place to keep Hawaii a "rabies-free island," which I do not refute. I have no problem with their need to keep rabies off the island. What I DO have a problem with is making someone like myself, who has ALWAYS kept my dog's vaccinations up-to-date, go through as many hoops as a zoo animal trafficker from Africa. They make it nearly impossible with confusing paperwork trails and deadlines, blood samples, restrictions and fees. My pet must be current on all vaccinations to fly, which certifies that my dog does not have, nor has ever been able to have, rabies. Since he has always been current, he is vaccinated against contracting rabies. Why must I have bloodwork done, then, which takes 4 months to process, and costs hundreds of dollars? It makes no sense. Add that to the administrative processing fees, vet fees for completing paperwork and flight costs, and I'm looking at over a thousand dollars to bring my dog over. I'm doing it because he's worth it to me... but come on. Is all of this really necessary, or is the state making some serious money off of my compromised situation? I see it as an unfair tax on compassionate pet owners who don't want to give up their pets just because they're relocating. Instead, they should be thanking me for keeping him out of the pound and attributing to the homeless animal crisis.
Hawaii is not unlike any other state when it comes to its population regarding animals as "disposable." A gifted puppy for xmas turns into #1024 at the pound by summer, and thousands of "pets" are euthanized yearly. One main difference that I am enormously aware of with Hawaii, however, is an intolerance for pets in rental properties. This problem for pet owners is not unique nationwide, but in Hawaii, where most rental properties are owned by investors (most who don't even LIVE on the island), pets are not allowed. Period. If there is a rare exception, the pet must be under 25 lbs, which limits rentals to owners of chihuahuas, other small breeds, and cats. Why landlord investors think a chihuahua or a cat is less of a threat to their investment than a golden retriever, I cannot possibly understand. They can wreak just as much havoc, bite just as many people, bark just as much... or be just as innocent. It has a lot more to do with the owner and how they manage their pet (this runs parallel to discrimination that bully breeds and other working-class dogs face. I won't even go into Breed Specific Legislation and blatent discrimination against how a dog looks). Not allowing pets is open discrimination against pet owners.
Medium to large dog owners like myself are constantly threatened by the ending of a lease. Not having a pet-friendly rental lined up within a month (you just can't find one sooner) could mean that I must either smuggle my dog onto the premises and risk eviction, rehome him (if I'm lucky) or give him up to a local shelter. Many distraught pet owners must face the sad reality of discarding their beloved pet like trash in order to avoid being homeless, dumping Fido at the shelter. Some take the chance of having their pet find a new owner by setting them "free" into a park in hopes someone that can will take them home. It's absolutely horrifying to think about having to give up my dog. I don't even want to consider it as an option.
Thanks, Hawaii, for making pet ownership hell.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
My Soul Is a Calm, Blue Ocean
The tide has receded, and the surf has subsided. Amidst the beach foam and fallen branches, the storm that has passed leaves me with feelings of relief, sublimation and catharsis. I'm a survivor, and my nightmare of a living situation has almost come to a close.
I have a new place lined up for February that will allow Oscar to come join me that borders Queen Lili‘uokalani Garden, complete with a swimming pool and a bbq area with a natural waterfall. I will be able to cook in my kitchen without bumping elbows with my roommates (the new ones don't cook), and I will no longer have to bear termites, roaches, mice and rats. I have a ten block walk to Chinatown and a clear head. I have a renewed sense of optimism that I have made the right decision in coming to Hawaii, and a light heart about taking back my dog. Perhaps now I can start to enjoy the weather.
I will, however, be a lot poorer. My rent has gone up by $150 extra a month, which will cause a considerable financial strain. Luckily, I have stuck with the new year's resolution of not drinking and have cut back on extracurriculars with the departure of my visiting mainland friends. I forgot how easy it was to spend money when friends are around. Eek!
We had our Sk808 Derby Tournament earlier this month, and I think it was a very well orchestrated success. I came out unscathed and landed some nice hits... and though I was a part of the team that took last place, we had a lot of fun and fought til the end. My favorite play was when I was in as a jammer... I avoided a four girl pileup by jumping over the mass, and went on to score four points. Man. I wish I had a photo of that. I keep playing it over and over in my head. I love those moments. They remind me that I don't always fall down.
Looking forward to February when mom, dad, and the dog come. Hoping to live as frugally as possible until then.
On that note... I'm looking for a sponsor for my acupuncture treatments. I just can't cut the $35 a week price tag. Any suggestions?
I have a new place lined up for February that will allow Oscar to come join me that borders Queen Lili‘uokalani Garden, complete with a swimming pool and a bbq area with a natural waterfall. I will be able to cook in my kitchen without bumping elbows with my roommates (the new ones don't cook), and I will no longer have to bear termites, roaches, mice and rats. I have a ten block walk to Chinatown and a clear head. I have a renewed sense of optimism that I have made the right decision in coming to Hawaii, and a light heart about taking back my dog. Perhaps now I can start to enjoy the weather.
I will, however, be a lot poorer. My rent has gone up by $150 extra a month, which will cause a considerable financial strain. Luckily, I have stuck with the new year's resolution of not drinking and have cut back on extracurriculars with the departure of my visiting mainland friends. I forgot how easy it was to spend money when friends are around. Eek!
We had our Sk808 Derby Tournament earlier this month, and I think it was a very well orchestrated success. I came out unscathed and landed some nice hits... and though I was a part of the team that took last place, we had a lot of fun and fought til the end. My favorite play was when I was in as a jammer... I avoided a four girl pileup by jumping over the mass, and went on to score four points. Man. I wish I had a photo of that. I keep playing it over and over in my head. I love those moments. They remind me that I don't always fall down.
Looking forward to February when mom, dad, and the dog come. Hoping to live as frugally as possible until then.
On that note... I'm looking for a sponsor for my acupuncture treatments. I just can't cut the $35 a week price tag. Any suggestions?
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Ancient Chinese Secrets
It was my New Year's resolution to myself: Find an alternative treatment for migraine prevention and make it happen.
I'm so sick of migraines. They have plaqued my existence since high school and are dehabilitating. I lose sleep, I spend days in a daze, I lose jobs, I lose out on social events, I suffer in silence and cry myself to sleep. I lose boyfriends. I lose patience. I lose self-esteem. I lose my lunch. To my credit, my migraines aren't always caused by alcohol. I just know that was the case in this instance.. but really, I can have a bad run of insomnia or work-related stress and end up on my back just the same. Should I live my life in a protective bubble, staying in on New Year's Eve to do yoga, going to bed at 10pm after chugging a gallon of water? Maybe. But... do I like to take risks?
Haha... Yes =)
I occasionally gamble. On January 1st and 2nd, I lost.
New Year's Eve was fantastic. The migraine was equally... fantastic.
Our evening started on a tame note and ended with my visiting friend from MN cooking breakfast in a penthouse for a bunch of drunken people. Without really breaking it down into specifics, the evening was entertaining to say the least and involved fireworks going off like it was Armageddon throughout the city, multiple swanky venues and interesting people, some crazy fake mustaches, sobercab chauffeurs, VIP status, and oh yes... a penthouse overlooking the entire glittering city of Honolulu. I never know what will happen here. I don't know why I'm still surprised. I should just expect adventure around every corner.
We left the penthouse as the sun began to rise and walked back to the condo that we've been fortunate enough to stay in for the past week, and that's when the trouble really began. I did have some descretion in my drink choices and attempted to make proper decisions, but without prescription medication, I was ill-equipped and in a bad spot. "It's just a hangover," people tell me... but they don't get MY hangovers. Add up all of the triggers... an alcoholic beverage (it only takes one sometimes), dehydration, sleep deprivation, stress.. and you have my moltov cocktail ingredients for one whopper of a migraine. It lasted for 2 1/2 days, ending only by the grace of... ancient Chinese secrets.
Now it really gets interesting.
After the first initial day of "hangover," including a drive to the North Shore that I couldn't get out of (and a horrible night's sleep that was really just me silently gasping in horror at the condition of my throbbing brain), I allowed my good Minnesota friend to guide me into Chinatown. I was desperate. Acupuncture was my last resort before going to the ER. I hate shots of Demerol and the hours of waiting, so I thought a few hundred needles in my forehead--or maybe a lobotomy--would be better. I could barely see. I was blinded by pain. We arrived, and after a little fuss, I was put in the back room behind a curtain. I have no idea what happened to my good friend. I think she wandered around Chinatown in search of a casket.
I remember them asking me some questions, and me mumbling something like "migraine, pain, help." I think they got the picture. My eye was running, teeth clenched, my brain close to exploding, and they probably thought I might kill them if they didn't subdue me. Then I was on my side facing a white wall. I was at their mercy. The needles were pricked into the top of my head, along my hairline, into my temple, down my neck, down my spine, around my shoulder blade, into my wrists. I don't know how many. I didn't even feel them. I honestly felt like being hit over the head with a club would have helped take the edge off.
Next, I received a special Chinatown surprise. I don't even know if this is legal...
Each tiny needle had a tiny wire clamped onto it. Pulses of electricity tapped away in code. I imagined them sending my brain SOS signals.. or waving tiny white flags. I lay motionless on my side through this process, for every shift of my jaw or brow sent horrible pain into my temple. I was a little scared to move. An egg timer went off after what seemed like a long time, and the next phase began.
Wires were removed, and "cupping" therapy began. Oh my!! Hollow glass "cups," the size of baseballs, round and smooth and clear, were heated, dipped in alcohol, then suctioned all over my neck and back. I am fortunate to have a high pain threshold. I felt like I was being attacked by an octopus (or maybe a junior high boy with bad aim). I lay there, still in pain, until the next egg timer went off. The cups were removed, and a soothing ointment that I can't pronounce was laquered onto my back and neck. I am certain it was liquid vicodin. It felt great. I bought some for the road.
An hour later, this whole debacle was over and I was paying for my treatment. I still had the headache, though now I could see straight and I didn't want to kill. I was to come back in a few days for a second treatment (because chronic migraines take several treatments). As a consolation prize to remind myself of how much fun I was having, the Cupping therapy left gigantic bruises all over my back. I look like a torture victim. I'm a derby girl, yet ashamed. I gotta say... they're kind of hard to explain. At least with derby, I can just say, "I play roller derby." How do I explain a back full of perfectly symmetrical, baseball-sized bruises?
I learned a lot about Chinatown that day, especially these two lessons:
#1: Ancient Chinese Secrets will be disclosed to you IF you don't ask questions and IF you are brave enough to go back several times, and
#2: Don't purchase bananas from the first vendor you see.
I've had two treatments now and will need to go back in another week. If I remain migraine-free for over a week, I can slowly go up to receiving these treatments once every other week, then every three, then four, and so on. If that happens, I will be paying 1/4 the price of western medicine co-pay and prescription costs, which makes a big dent in my monthly budget. Just imagine. me... MIGRAINE-FREE!!
It's good to take risks. Even when you end up blind in Chinatown.
ps. In other news, my EBT card stopped working for a few days and then started again, and the house in which I reside is now being auctioned off. Surprise!!
The adventure continues.
I'm so sick of migraines. They have plaqued my existence since high school and are dehabilitating. I lose sleep, I spend days in a daze, I lose jobs, I lose out on social events, I suffer in silence and cry myself to sleep. I lose boyfriends. I lose patience. I lose self-esteem. I lose my lunch. To my credit, my migraines aren't always caused by alcohol. I just know that was the case in this instance.. but really, I can have a bad run of insomnia or work-related stress and end up on my back just the same. Should I live my life in a protective bubble, staying in on New Year's Eve to do yoga, going to bed at 10pm after chugging a gallon of water? Maybe. But... do I like to take risks?
Haha... Yes =)
I occasionally gamble. On January 1st and 2nd, I lost.
New Year's Eve was fantastic. The migraine was equally... fantastic.
Our evening started on a tame note and ended with my visiting friend from MN cooking breakfast in a penthouse for a bunch of drunken people. Without really breaking it down into specifics, the evening was entertaining to say the least and involved fireworks going off like it was Armageddon throughout the city, multiple swanky venues and interesting people, some crazy fake mustaches, sobercab chauffeurs, VIP status, and oh yes... a penthouse overlooking the entire glittering city of Honolulu. I never know what will happen here. I don't know why I'm still surprised. I should just expect adventure around every corner.
We left the penthouse as the sun began to rise and walked back to the condo that we've been fortunate enough to stay in for the past week, and that's when the trouble really began. I did have some descretion in my drink choices and attempted to make proper decisions, but without prescription medication, I was ill-equipped and in a bad spot. "It's just a hangover," people tell me... but they don't get MY hangovers. Add up all of the triggers... an alcoholic beverage (it only takes one sometimes), dehydration, sleep deprivation, stress.. and you have my moltov cocktail ingredients for one whopper of a migraine. It lasted for 2 1/2 days, ending only by the grace of... ancient Chinese secrets.
Now it really gets interesting.
After the first initial day of "hangover," including a drive to the North Shore that I couldn't get out of (and a horrible night's sleep that was really just me silently gasping in horror at the condition of my throbbing brain), I allowed my good Minnesota friend to guide me into Chinatown. I was desperate. Acupuncture was my last resort before going to the ER. I hate shots of Demerol and the hours of waiting, so I thought a few hundred needles in my forehead--or maybe a lobotomy--would be better. I could barely see. I was blinded by pain. We arrived, and after a little fuss, I was put in the back room behind a curtain. I have no idea what happened to my good friend. I think she wandered around Chinatown in search of a casket.
I remember them asking me some questions, and me mumbling something like "migraine, pain, help." I think they got the picture. My eye was running, teeth clenched, my brain close to exploding, and they probably thought I might kill them if they didn't subdue me. Then I was on my side facing a white wall. I was at their mercy. The needles were pricked into the top of my head, along my hairline, into my temple, down my neck, down my spine, around my shoulder blade, into my wrists. I don't know how many. I didn't even feel them. I honestly felt like being hit over the head with a club would have helped take the edge off.
Next, I received a special Chinatown surprise. I don't even know if this is legal...
Each tiny needle had a tiny wire clamped onto it. Pulses of electricity tapped away in code. I imagined them sending my brain SOS signals.. or waving tiny white flags. I lay motionless on my side through this process, for every shift of my jaw or brow sent horrible pain into my temple. I was a little scared to move. An egg timer went off after what seemed like a long time, and the next phase began.
Wires were removed, and "cupping" therapy began. Oh my!! Hollow glass "cups," the size of baseballs, round and smooth and clear, were heated, dipped in alcohol, then suctioned all over my neck and back. I am fortunate to have a high pain threshold. I felt like I was being attacked by an octopus (or maybe a junior high boy with bad aim). I lay there, still in pain, until the next egg timer went off. The cups were removed, and a soothing ointment that I can't pronounce was laquered onto my back and neck. I am certain it was liquid vicodin. It felt great. I bought some for the road.
An hour later, this whole debacle was over and I was paying for my treatment. I still had the headache, though now I could see straight and I didn't want to kill. I was to come back in a few days for a second treatment (because chronic migraines take several treatments). As a consolation prize to remind myself of how much fun I was having, the Cupping therapy left gigantic bruises all over my back. I look like a torture victim. I'm a derby girl, yet ashamed. I gotta say... they're kind of hard to explain. At least with derby, I can just say, "I play roller derby." How do I explain a back full of perfectly symmetrical, baseball-sized bruises?
I learned a lot about Chinatown that day, especially these two lessons:
#1: Ancient Chinese Secrets will be disclosed to you IF you don't ask questions and IF you are brave enough to go back several times, and
#2: Don't purchase bananas from the first vendor you see.
I've had two treatments now and will need to go back in another week. If I remain migraine-free for over a week, I can slowly go up to receiving these treatments once every other week, then every three, then four, and so on. If that happens, I will be paying 1/4 the price of western medicine co-pay and prescription costs, which makes a big dent in my monthly budget. Just imagine. me... MIGRAINE-FREE!!
It's good to take risks. Even when you end up blind in Chinatown.
ps. In other news, my EBT card stopped working for a few days and then started again, and the house in which I reside is now being auctioned off. Surprise!!
The adventure continues.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Haole Tourism 101
When entertaining guests in Hawaii, I get to partake in silly tourist adventures... like whale-watching expeditions, Waikiki boardwalk ogling, North Shore exploration, beach hopping, and seeking out new restaurants. Over the past week I have managed to see more of this island than I have in the past four months. I'm exhausted. I get one day of rest before another guest comes tomorrow... wherein the whole tour begins anew...
But the whale-watching cruise was cool!
I barely caught the boat due to the bus system being overly congested the day after Christmas, but I made it. By sprinting. After I coughed up what I believe was blood from my lungs post-sprint, I settled into a reclining lawn chair on the S.S. Atlantis, watching the tourists shuffle around the rails in search of whales. They ooohed and aaahhhed when a whale would surface to blow water into the air, and when someone squealed on the other side of the ship, 500 tourists would immediately run to the other rail, video cameras flailing and cameras snapping. I admit... I got up in a panic from my lawn chair. I couldn't help it! It was whale hysteria! My journey to and from my lawn chair to fight off waves of seasickness was rewarded by visions of whale tails, sea turtles, dolphins, and a hammerhead shark... and although I highly doubt I'll go again, I may consider it if I take Dramamine first.
I now consider renting a car at some point in your Oahu vacation absolutely mandatory. Buses are fine around the city, but if you want to see the North Shore--and believe me you do--a car will save you a two-hour bus ride. Plus, you can then meander down the Leeward side of the island and see Chinaman's Hat, Kaneohe, and charming Hawaiian towns and beaches like Kailua--where the Obama family vacations during the holidays. We hit Waimea Bay while we were up there and got smacked around by enormous waves. At one point, I came inches from losing my bikini bottoms. It was a worrisome split-second. Luckily, I have quick reflexes.
There were some amazing surprises in our car travels, from sudden rainstorms and rainbows to spontaneous stops to see breathtaking views of the rugged Kokohead coastline. Seriously... I was shocked at the beauty on this island. Here I thought it was all in Kauai!
Our Christmas was anticlimactic per usual, with plenty of down time and boredom. We hit the beach at Waikiki on Christmas morning to meet up with the other thousands of tourists fighting for a patch of sand along the shore, then gave up and got ice cream when it started to rain. I dribbled chocolate-peanut butter Haagen Daaz down the front of my yellow sun dress like a six year-old, and we window shopped along the tourist strip until my friends could check into their splurge hotel rental for the night. I then ventured home on the buses. I waited for an hour at the deserted Ala Moana Center next to a homeless person with nowhere else to go, no family to celebrate the holiday with. It's a twisted perspective to see someone living on the streets, knowing they have no home and no one to turn to, yet still feeling homesick inside.It makes me ashamed of my momentary cryfest that I had in Barnes & Noble a few days ago--devalues the weight of my lonesomeness and my heartache. I have family. I have friends. I have an apartment. I need to quit being such a fucking baby. It could be waaaaaay worse.
When my other friend arrives tomorrow, I'm hoping to find new adventures to do instead of retreading my same path. That's what life is all about, right? Treading new paths?
But the whale-watching cruise was cool!
I barely caught the boat due to the bus system being overly congested the day after Christmas, but I made it. By sprinting. After I coughed up what I believe was blood from my lungs post-sprint, I settled into a reclining lawn chair on the S.S. Atlantis, watching the tourists shuffle around the rails in search of whales. They ooohed and aaahhhed when a whale would surface to blow water into the air, and when someone squealed on the other side of the ship, 500 tourists would immediately run to the other rail, video cameras flailing and cameras snapping. I admit... I got up in a panic from my lawn chair. I couldn't help it! It was whale hysteria! My journey to and from my lawn chair to fight off waves of seasickness was rewarded by visions of whale tails, sea turtles, dolphins, and a hammerhead shark... and although I highly doubt I'll go again, I may consider it if I take Dramamine first.
I now consider renting a car at some point in your Oahu vacation absolutely mandatory. Buses are fine around the city, but if you want to see the North Shore--and believe me you do--a car will save you a two-hour bus ride. Plus, you can then meander down the Leeward side of the island and see Chinaman's Hat, Kaneohe, and charming Hawaiian towns and beaches like Kailua--where the Obama family vacations during the holidays. We hit Waimea Bay while we were up there and got smacked around by enormous waves. At one point, I came inches from losing my bikini bottoms. It was a worrisome split-second. Luckily, I have quick reflexes.
There were some amazing surprises in our car travels, from sudden rainstorms and rainbows to spontaneous stops to see breathtaking views of the rugged Kokohead coastline. Seriously... I was shocked at the beauty on this island. Here I thought it was all in Kauai!
Our Christmas was anticlimactic per usual, with plenty of down time and boredom. We hit the beach at Waikiki on Christmas morning to meet up with the other thousands of tourists fighting for a patch of sand along the shore, then gave up and got ice cream when it started to rain. I dribbled chocolate-peanut butter Haagen Daaz down the front of my yellow sun dress like a six year-old, and we window shopped along the tourist strip until my friends could check into their splurge hotel rental for the night. I then ventured home on the buses. I waited for an hour at the deserted Ala Moana Center next to a homeless person with nowhere else to go, no family to celebrate the holiday with. It's a twisted perspective to see someone living on the streets, knowing they have no home and no one to turn to, yet still feeling homesick inside.It makes me ashamed of my momentary cryfest that I had in Barnes & Noble a few days ago--devalues the weight of my lonesomeness and my heartache. I have family. I have friends. I have an apartment. I need to quit being such a fucking baby. It could be waaaaaay worse.
When my other friend arrives tomorrow, I'm hoping to find new adventures to do instead of retreading my same path. That's what life is all about, right? Treading new paths?
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Painful Beauty
There is something about the uninterrupted beauty of nature that can transform a person's mental state from stagnant and stuck to liberated.
This was my weekend a few back:
Whatever hold the vog of Honolulu had placed on my mental state was lifted as I returned to the magical island of Kauai. As if staying in a jungle bungalow weren't enough bliss, I hiked bamboo forest trails through Noni and Guava trees, and slipped into the rippling waters of Rainbow Falls. I lazily walked along ocean's edge and saw a whale breach on the horizon. I drew spring water from boulders. Our truck was delayed by a wild boar and her piglets. Wild roosters strutted in the ditches. As the sun set, a surfer movie showed in the cozy city of Hanalei as local artists displayed their handiwork. That night, I gazed at a meteor shower for hours on the rooftop. For a few days, I lost myself in the simplicity of country-island life, of worry-free days and silent nights. Beaching, hiking, simple meals, quiet evenings under starlit skies with ocean breeze and mountain air...
As I lay there on the roof watching mother nature's fabulous show, I wondered how I had gotten there in awe. How had I changed my fortune so drastically? What sacrifices had I made to get to this point? Was I lucky, or simply brave?
Call it what you will. It has been a fabulous journey. I'm enjoying it. I enjoy the change, the view, the adventures. I enjoy the excitement of new places, new experiences. Yet within me, I am very lonely. I am very much single. I have no partner in crime with whom to share my life. I have no one to come home to, no one to tell me how fabulous I am. At the end of the day, regardless of how many friends I've made and adventures I've had, I am still single. I am still very much alone in this.
Back in the city and the daily grind of Honolulu, I'm frustrated by my singledom and pissed that I am still silently suffering through holidays alone. It's a sad reality. I want a man that travels but yet wants a woman by his side. Close to impossible, methinks. It's like a catch-22. What I saw as a normal trait to explore turns out to be the trait men who shy away from commitment hold strongly. I consistently meet men who like to travel, and are anti-committal. It's true. I'm attracted to a faulty character flaw. Life just gets harder and lonelier. One of my last unmarried friends was proposed to over the weekend. I'm sooo happy for her, yet the knife drives deeper. Where is my man? I am either too picky, or chasing rainbows...
(Sidenote: Apparently, I'm not doing very well at patience and graceful independence. Sigh. Gotta work on that. I'm not going to complain about this last subject for a loooong time. It sounds whiny and miserable... but because I've been dwelling on it so much lately, I feel obligated to include this last paragraph. I promise to work on my optimism. I'm fabulous. Right? hahaha)
I have been reading a lot of books lately, partially to distract myself from my neuroses, and partially to make up for all of the misguidance of my English teachers throughout the years. I haven't read the classics, people... I've been cheated. I've spent thousands of dollars for a few pieces of fancy paper, including an English degree(!), and until now, I've never read Hemingway, Faulkner, Fitzgerald, Camus, Coetzee, Joyce, Conrad.. barely any 20th/21st century literature. Wtf?! Luckily, I have a great literary friend/genius who is filling the void. I do regular assigned readings and then present a synopsis, and we discuss my impressions. It's fantastic. It's like a private book club minus the meetings and distractions. I am so into it! Man, and I'm getting skooled! I don't know shit!! Hahaha! I can't believe I neglected my literary side for so long. It's a shame, really.
Fiction is great.
Just better steer clear of the love stories for a while.
This was my weekend a few back:
Whatever hold the vog of Honolulu had placed on my mental state was lifted as I returned to the magical island of Kauai. As if staying in a jungle bungalow weren't enough bliss, I hiked bamboo forest trails through Noni and Guava trees, and slipped into the rippling waters of Rainbow Falls. I lazily walked along ocean's edge and saw a whale breach on the horizon. I drew spring water from boulders. Our truck was delayed by a wild boar and her piglets. Wild roosters strutted in the ditches. As the sun set, a surfer movie showed in the cozy city of Hanalei as local artists displayed their handiwork. That night, I gazed at a meteor shower for hours on the rooftop. For a few days, I lost myself in the simplicity of country-island life, of worry-free days and silent nights. Beaching, hiking, simple meals, quiet evenings under starlit skies with ocean breeze and mountain air...
As I lay there on the roof watching mother nature's fabulous show, I wondered how I had gotten there in awe. How had I changed my fortune so drastically? What sacrifices had I made to get to this point? Was I lucky, or simply brave?
Call it what you will. It has been a fabulous journey. I'm enjoying it. I enjoy the change, the view, the adventures. I enjoy the excitement of new places, new experiences. Yet within me, I am very lonely. I am very much single. I have no partner in crime with whom to share my life. I have no one to come home to, no one to tell me how fabulous I am. At the end of the day, regardless of how many friends I've made and adventures I've had, I am still single. I am still very much alone in this.
Back in the city and the daily grind of Honolulu, I'm frustrated by my singledom and pissed that I am still silently suffering through holidays alone. It's a sad reality. I want a man that travels but yet wants a woman by his side. Close to impossible, methinks. It's like a catch-22. What I saw as a normal trait to explore turns out to be the trait men who shy away from commitment hold strongly. I consistently meet men who like to travel, and are anti-committal. It's true. I'm attracted to a faulty character flaw. Life just gets harder and lonelier. One of my last unmarried friends was proposed to over the weekend. I'm sooo happy for her, yet the knife drives deeper. Where is my man? I am either too picky, or chasing rainbows...
(Sidenote: Apparently, I'm not doing very well at patience and graceful independence. Sigh. Gotta work on that. I'm not going to complain about this last subject for a loooong time. It sounds whiny and miserable... but because I've been dwelling on it so much lately, I feel obligated to include this last paragraph. I promise to work on my optimism. I'm fabulous. Right? hahaha)
I have been reading a lot of books lately, partially to distract myself from my neuroses, and partially to make up for all of the misguidance of my English teachers throughout the years. I haven't read the classics, people... I've been cheated. I've spent thousands of dollars for a few pieces of fancy paper, including an English degree(!), and until now, I've never read Hemingway, Faulkner, Fitzgerald, Camus, Coetzee, Joyce, Conrad.. barely any 20th/21st century literature. Wtf?! Luckily, I have a great literary friend/genius who is filling the void. I do regular assigned readings and then present a synopsis, and we discuss my impressions. It's fantastic. It's like a private book club minus the meetings and distractions. I am so into it! Man, and I'm getting skooled! I don't know shit!! Hahaha! I can't believe I neglected my literary side for so long. It's a shame, really.
Fiction is great.
Just better steer clear of the love stories for a while.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Poison is a girl's best friend
I've kinda gotten into the groove of daily life in Hawaii, to the point of actually feeling a little chilly in the morning when it's really only low 70's. My room is like a moldy cave. No, really. There is mold on the ceiling.
A housing inspector came through and told me that I should always have a fan on and should keep the windows open whenever possible, and that I should scrub the ceiling with bleach. Uh... okay... except I CAN'T have all the windows open or I smell dog poo. Well, I can have one open. Still. Really? Mold? What.. am I in England again? It was my experience living in a castle in England back in 1998 that I first developed a mold allergy, being sick 5 out of the 6 months (I would have made a terrible princess). Yet again, I suffer from the mold allergy. It certainly explains the constant stuffy nose every morning and the sneezing fits. Apparently I missed the ceiling when I scoured the apartment.
New and understandably unacceptable development: A rat hole under the kitchen sink.
Really? A rat hole? Why the hell do I put up with this?
I'm not so sure, except with each new experience I learn a little more about what I can tolerate and when I am going to crack and end up in an insane asylum. All I can really say is that time and experience have really mellowed me out.
Luckily, the owner has bought her ticket to Philadelphia and departs on a plane (forever) December 28th. Where does that leave us in our lease? Good question. No idea. It's supposed to be up end of February. The potential buyer (who is aware of all of this) is still unsure if the deal is going to go through before then, but has expressed interest in keeping us as tenants. I have a list of demands if I am to extend my lease, but with the rental market the way it is here, I am not entirely optimistic that he will meet the demands and keep our rent at the same level. I don't even know if he'll keep it that way should I NOT present the demands. Oh, the things you learn when your budget is ridiculously tight. Some must decide whether they want a garden view or an actual garden. I must choose whether or not I can afford to move out of a rat/mouse/cockroach infested apartment. I must also choose whether to EVER bring such subjects up in conversation, especially with visiting house guests. Will they notice the rat hole that I have stuffed with a Brillo pad and covered with duct tape, or can I avoid the topic altogether?
Meanwhile, the roommates and I are reaching the "personal pet peeves" portion in our relationship, and I am remaining remarkably calm. They are married. They have married-person "talks." Then there is me, the third wheel, occasionally in the way and mute about my own grievances within the living situation. I prefer to just avoid the whole issue and lock myself in my room. Maybe that isn't the best approach, but it keeps me composed and separated from their life. You know how you should never turn a friend into a roommate? This is why. Sometimes, roommate situations must remain as professional as business transactions. All three of us will be fine so long as our personal space and mental space are honored. I believe this is only a temporary adjustment period in the roommate cycle, and look forward to the anxiety of the apartment pests being extinguished. I think it would do wonders for our stress levels. I've had great roommates in the past, but it certainly gets trickier when the roommates are married. It suddenly turns into a 2-1 ratio.. there is no equality. Luckily, they're from Iowa. Somehow that helps.
Domestic annoyances are a small component in my Hawaii experience. I have met a lot of amazing people. I have helped cook turkeys in an Imu pit for the homeless and poor. I have watched a portion of the Triple Crown surf competition, and stood within 20 feet of famous Bethany Hamilton, known for surviving a tiger shark attack. I have ridden on the back of a crotch rocket. I have seen Chinaman's Hat. I have hiked part of the Napali Coast to watch a brilliant sunset. I have driven across single-lane bridges in the jungles of North Shore Kauai. I have camped in 2" of water in a thunderstorm, oceanside, on the north shore of Oahu. I have gone for a morning swim in the ocean. I have purchased a Brazilian bikini... and worn it. I have broken my wrist. I have gotten into altercations with old ladies in Goodwill. I have shopped regularly at Walmart because I cannot afford not to. I have thrown away food an hour old because cockroaches in someone's car have taken hold of it. I have mooched rides, walked home 1 1/2 hours because I was too proud to ask, tipped a cabbie $10 extra because he didn't speak English and I couldn't handle dealing with him any more, waited for an hour in the rain for a bus next to a homeless person who had nowhere else to go, developed a fondness for most dogs regardless of size, developed a complete distaste for uni shooters, pronounced street names right, given directions to tourists, participated in a sex ed workshop with Micronesian Women who have never talked about sex, walked 13 miles to raise awareness and money for homelessness in Hawaii... and gotten to a pretty good place in my self-taught ukulele lessons.
A housing inspector came through and told me that I should always have a fan on and should keep the windows open whenever possible, and that I should scrub the ceiling with bleach. Uh... okay... except I CAN'T have all the windows open or I smell dog poo. Well, I can have one open. Still. Really? Mold? What.. am I in England again? It was my experience living in a castle in England back in 1998 that I first developed a mold allergy, being sick 5 out of the 6 months (I would have made a terrible princess). Yet again, I suffer from the mold allergy. It certainly explains the constant stuffy nose every morning and the sneezing fits. Apparently I missed the ceiling when I scoured the apartment.
New and understandably unacceptable development: A rat hole under the kitchen sink.
Really? A rat hole? Why the hell do I put up with this?
I'm not so sure, except with each new experience I learn a little more about what I can tolerate and when I am going to crack and end up in an insane asylum. All I can really say is that time and experience have really mellowed me out.
Luckily, the owner has bought her ticket to Philadelphia and departs on a plane (forever) December 28th. Where does that leave us in our lease? Good question. No idea. It's supposed to be up end of February. The potential buyer (who is aware of all of this) is still unsure if the deal is going to go through before then, but has expressed interest in keeping us as tenants. I have a list of demands if I am to extend my lease, but with the rental market the way it is here, I am not entirely optimistic that he will meet the demands and keep our rent at the same level. I don't even know if he'll keep it that way should I NOT present the demands. Oh, the things you learn when your budget is ridiculously tight. Some must decide whether they want a garden view or an actual garden. I must choose whether or not I can afford to move out of a rat/mouse/cockroach infested apartment. I must also choose whether to EVER bring such subjects up in conversation, especially with visiting house guests. Will they notice the rat hole that I have stuffed with a Brillo pad and covered with duct tape, or can I avoid the topic altogether?
Meanwhile, the roommates and I are reaching the "personal pet peeves" portion in our relationship, and I am remaining remarkably calm. They are married. They have married-person "talks." Then there is me, the third wheel, occasionally in the way and mute about my own grievances within the living situation. I prefer to just avoid the whole issue and lock myself in my room. Maybe that isn't the best approach, but it keeps me composed and separated from their life. You know how you should never turn a friend into a roommate? This is why. Sometimes, roommate situations must remain as professional as business transactions. All three of us will be fine so long as our personal space and mental space are honored. I believe this is only a temporary adjustment period in the roommate cycle, and look forward to the anxiety of the apartment pests being extinguished. I think it would do wonders for our stress levels. I've had great roommates in the past, but it certainly gets trickier when the roommates are married. It suddenly turns into a 2-1 ratio.. there is no equality. Luckily, they're from Iowa. Somehow that helps.
Domestic annoyances are a small component in my Hawaii experience. I have met a lot of amazing people. I have helped cook turkeys in an Imu pit for the homeless and poor. I have watched a portion of the Triple Crown surf competition, and stood within 20 feet of famous Bethany Hamilton, known for surviving a tiger shark attack. I have ridden on the back of a crotch rocket. I have seen Chinaman's Hat. I have hiked part of the Napali Coast to watch a brilliant sunset. I have driven across single-lane bridges in the jungles of North Shore Kauai. I have camped in 2" of water in a thunderstorm, oceanside, on the north shore of Oahu. I have gone for a morning swim in the ocean. I have purchased a Brazilian bikini... and worn it. I have broken my wrist. I have gotten into altercations with old ladies in Goodwill. I have shopped regularly at Walmart because I cannot afford not to. I have thrown away food an hour old because cockroaches in someone's car have taken hold of it. I have mooched rides, walked home 1 1/2 hours because I was too proud to ask, tipped a cabbie $10 extra because he didn't speak English and I couldn't handle dealing with him any more, waited for an hour in the rain for a bus next to a homeless person who had nowhere else to go, developed a fondness for most dogs regardless of size, developed a complete distaste for uni shooters, pronounced street names right, given directions to tourists, participated in a sex ed workshop with Micronesian Women who have never talked about sex, walked 13 miles to raise awareness and money for homelessness in Hawaii... and gotten to a pretty good place in my self-taught ukulele lessons.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
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.
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.
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