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?

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.

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.

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.