Expectations

Mom called me this morning and in the course of our chat, I mention that I see myself on Kauai for at least another year or so.  I want to save a bit of money and be in a really good space before moving back and I'm still thinking the island has some big lessons to teach me.  She says, "I don't think that's a good idea."  I ask why and the answer I got is still messing with my head.

She basically spelled out that Kauai has turned me into a loser.  That she was very surprised at my appearance when I was back in Colorado.  Embarrassed actually.  Apparently I used to be of the "most polished people she knew," and now I'm a scruffy, uncultured, island girl.   She then said she didn't think I'd be able to get a job in Denver. 

My self esteem doesn't revolve around what my mom thinks of me but to have her say I was embarrassing and have her doubt my ability to find employment?

Yes, things here are different.  I was talking to my friend Tia today and we both found that when our mainland friends come to visit, they feel uncomfortable.  Tia said her sister felt ugly here because the women tend to be so slim and fit and there are no real bombshell-types.  Her sister defines herself as a glammed-up bombshell vixen and so to come to an island where people don't use hairdryers, wear much make-up, and are very slim, totally made her feel insecure.

I saw happen to Jen as well.  Jen defines herself as a city-dyke.  She rocks weird haircuts and men's undershirts and loves showing off her tattoos and lifting weights.  She's very pale, very city, and very butch.  We'd go to the beach and she'd be in her sports bra and board shorts and all her confidence would crumble.  She'd hold her arms over her belly and kick at the shoreline.

Well, when I first got here, I was like that too.  I was way too dressed all of the time, I wore too much make-up, and I was pale, as should be a redhead.  It took 6 or 8 months but slowly my hair grew out, my skin grew dark, and I stopped worrying about it so much.

In Colorado this summer, I was astounded at how many friends I made in the short week that I was there.  I was open, happy, free.  I want to hear people's stories. I want to bond with them, learn from them.  And people are drawn to that.  I wasn't like that when I got here.  Not nearly as loving, as accepting.  I've tried to put love before every emotion that I feel, and it has enriched my life tremendously.

But am I delusional?  I believe that I'm free and loving but really I'm stunted and immature?  I've always been proud to be a well-versed woman.  I've seen some shit, been around.  I feel like that works against me sometimes, as it can come across as snobby or cold.  Or I used to come across that way.  Now I believe I am much more approachable.

Approachable... and embarrassing, with unemployment in my future.

Damn it.

Aloha.

Leaving it in the dust

Today I was running up a trail when I passed two hikers coming back down.  The woman shouted at me as I passed, "You're an inspiration!"  Wha... really?  It didn't sink in until after I was done with my run.  I returned a friend's call and heard myself offering up advice in regard to a woman who's making him crazy. I said "I know you love her, but you have to love yourself more."  So if I'm going to be an inspiration, it's not because I tackle steep inclines, it's because I'm going to walk the walk.

People do shitty and selfish things all the time.  And sometimes we love them and they still do those things to us.  But the only damn thing I can control in this world are my thoughts.  And my thoughts for the last 3 weeks have been hurtful.  I've blamed myself.  But I've come to the point where I've out-run the woman crying on the steps.  I can do nothing else but keep running, keep laughing, and keep loving because damn if I will be withheld from any of it any longer.

Books are falling in my path as I need them.  Meagan gave me her copy of Jitterbug Perfume for some reason and the next day, I smacked Ian with it as I fought for satisfaction.

End of relationship/dodged bullet.

The same day I received an Amazon package containing Born To Run.  The book has been my bible.  I would do it an injustice by summarizing it here, but it's changed the way that I run and by extension, think,  physically, spiritually, and mentally.

There will be more dark times, I know, but I'm through the worst of it.  I have run myself past the head noise and back to clarity.

aloha.

Yesterday and Today

Yesterday I felt good.  I went on a hike with a friend and her toddler and talked it out.  I stopped by the Tamba shop on my way home, bought a new hat, and let the braddahs hit on me.  I got home, worked out, and decided to unblock Ian on facebook.  I felt like I had moved past needing to cut ties, moved past animosity.

What I realized today is that last night and this morning, I have been preparing for Ian to get in touch with me.  I have been preparing for him to come back and hold me and apologize.  I had been preparing to forgive him.

I was tricking myself.  He left me.  Abandoned me.  Threw me away.  And thank gods I have both the internal strength and external support to withstand such treatment.  I have to let him go, have to let that hope go.  Even if if I have to hide it until I simply forget where it ever was, I cannot hold onto to any amount of hope.

Today on my run, I again thought about living in fear.  I am scared of what might NOT happen and so my reality is overlooked in preparation for a future that is uncertain.  I have wonderful friends, a very healthy body, well-paying and soul-satisfying job, and a small family of three that love me.  It is abundance.  I need to honor it.

Running has been my medication and my regulator through this time.  I run trails often, twisty, muddy trails through rain forest that require exact concentration in order not to fall on my face.  It leaves little room to think about what's happened.  It also forces me out the door by 7 am or earlier each day, and if I've been up crying and popping pills all night, it is a punishing start to my day.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way...  Right?

Aloha.

Damaged Goods

It's 4am on Kauai and I'm up for a reason yet determined.  I checked my phone, email, listened for suspicious noises... nothing.  I tried to sleep for another hour and have given up and decided that perhaps the reason I'm up is to update this blog.

I've had a taste of heart break.  I think it's medium-rare kind of heat break, not a charred, burnt-to-a-crisp kind, but it'll do.  He left me without a word.  I know that I need to view this as a dodged bullet, a gift from my higher self that unleashed events that would show me his true colors. The problem is, when someone leaves with no explanation, you're left to do the coloring yourself, making it up as you go along, because you've been left with no outline.

What happened?  What were the words I used that sent him so far from me emotionally that he was able to treat me that way? And why am I not worth fighting for? These are questions that have haunted every single day for the last 10 days. I haven't called him but once, I blocked him on facebook, but I am dying to invade his life and search for answers.

Damaged goods.  Over a year ago, a woman he was madly in love with on the mainland broke his heart and took up with another.  Apparently he was ready to move to California, leave Kauai, to be with her.  It came as a surprise and according to his friends, it tore him up completely.  I wonder if he saw a chance at vengeance with me.  I'm not innocent, I know that I said inappropriate things in some lame attempt to protect myself.  A few weeks before this happened, I suggested we see other people in a weird fit of totally fake nonchalance.  The fight we had the morning he left was about sex.  I wasn't satisfied.  After what's happened I have been completely without any desire and the thought of having an orgasm almost shames me.  I feel as though my desire is what caused this, sickened him in some way.

How to move forward?  I've barely begun sleeping again, eating is still difficult, running not quite where it was two weeks ago.  And the sadness just overtakes me.  I went to the bay yesterday for a walk and a swim.  The ocean has always soothed me, taken off the sticky mess of any day.  Yesterday I got in and the waves rolled and tossed me about and I cried.  I thought maybe then I was done.  I reread The Four Agreements and went home.  And now I am up at 4am, with tears in my eyes again.

The next month will be slow at work and my best friend here is leaving for 2 weeks to Ireland.  The time kills me, time that was spent with Ian, now is spent alone.  My girlfriends have rallied, been incredible, but I know I'm on a deadline here.

I need to forgive and release him. And I need to find a way to do that without closure.

Aloha.

A perfect weekend and an invitation.

Ian's invited me to his sister's wedding and I am debating...  We've been hanging out a month, but it's been an intense month.  We fit.  Yet no matter how perfect our time together, Kauai would never let two people get swallowed up in each other.  This island has a say in everything, especially when you're dating a man born here.  I've met his boat crew, a few of his friends... And now as I prepare to meet his entire family, extended mainland family included, I find myself very hesitant on a couple of notes.  Is it too soon?  Yes, it might be awkward, and I better damn not catch that bouquet, but there's usually no harm in meeting new friends.  The pressure will be on, and I know I will be scrutinized.  Locals looove sizing up newbies and usually find them lacking.  But my friends that know his family tell me they are an easy bunch.

What to wear?  Look PRETTY is the overwhelming answer I've been given.  Don't look glitzy, not trendy, just pretty.  And wear a flower behind your ear.  I need to sort out which ear though.  Usually a flower worn behind the left ear means you're taken/married and the right means you're single.  So both options are really quite tenuous when my date is a man I haven't yet told I love, and we're so new into it. Maybe I won't go.  It is really early for all this.

I think that I do love him though.  He took me to Polihale last weekend.  We arrived at midnight, under a full moon.  After about ten trips from the truck down the dunes, we were sweaty and exhausted.  We took off our clothes and swam naked in the Pacific Ocean, water lit up from above.  Polihale is remote, detached, wild.  It makes the rules and its visitors heed them.

Meagan, Drew and their child, Sequoia, came to visit us the next day.  They have four wheel drive and so cruised down to our camp, and stayed all afternoon.  As the afternoon wore on, I grew more and more elated.  This is the life that I want.  At one point Ian radioed his boat, then grabbed his longboard and paddled out to meet them as they cruised by.  They dropped us a bag of ice.  Rabbit out of a hat...

The winds grew to 30 knots and we decided that since cooking dinner would be impossible, it was time to call it.  We packed up and drove back to Hanapepe and set up a hibachi in front of his place, and grilled the best piece of Ahi I have ever tasted.

Aloha.

Life is Beautiful

I have no words

I walked into work with a friend and we both stopped and stared, open-mouthed for about 30 seconds.  Then I burst out laughing and took a picture and she started loudly asking, "but I'm Mexican, where do I go???"

Oh Kauai, there are no words.

Give

Excerpted from "Start Where You Are : A Guide to Compassionate Living" by Pema Chodron, Copyright 1994, Shambhala Publications. 

Our next slogan is "Abandon any hope of fruition." You could also say, "Give up all hope" or "Give up" or just "Give." The shorter the better.

One of the most powerful teachings of the Buddhist tradition is that as long as you are wishing for things to change, they never will. As long as you're wanting yourself to get better, you won't. As long as you have an orientation toward the future, you can never just relax into what you already have or already are.

One of the deepest habitual patterns that we have is to feel that now is not good enough. We think back to the past a lot, which maybe was better than now, or perhaps worse. We also think ahead quite a bit to the future - which we may fear - always holding out hope that it might be a little bit better than now. Even if now is going really well -we have good health and we've met the person of our dreams, or we just had a child or got the job we wanted-nevertheless there's a deep tendency always to think about how it's going to be later. We don't quite give ourselves full credit for who we are in the present.

For example, it's easy to hope that things will improve as a result of meditation, that we won't have such bad tempers anymore or we won't have fear anymore or people will like us more than they do now. Or maybe none of those things are problems for us, but we feel we aren't spiritual enough. Surely we will connect with that awake, brilliant, sacred world that we are going to find through meditation. In everything we read -whether it's philosophy or dharma books or psychology- there's the implication that we're caught in some kind of very small perspective and that if we just did the right things, we'd begin to connect with a bigger world, a vaster world, different from the one we're in now.

One reason I wanted to talk about giving up all hope of fruition is because I've been meditating and giving dharma talks for some time now, but I find that I still have a secret passion for what it's going to be like when-as they say in some of the classical texts, all the veils have been removed." It's that same feeling of wanting to jump over yourself and find something that's more awake than the present situation, more alert than the present situation. Sometimes this occurs at a very mundane level: you want to be thinner, have less acne or more hair. But somehow there's almost always a subtle or not so subtle sense of disappointment, a sense of things not completely measuring up.

In one of the first teachings I ever heard, the teacher said, "I don't know why you came here, but I want to tell you right now that the basis of this whole teaching is that you're never going to get everything together." I felt a little like he had just slapped me in the face or thrown cold water over my head. But I've always remembered it. He said, "You're never going to get it all together." There isn't going to be some precious future time when all the loose ends will be tied up. Even though it was shocking to me, it rang true. One of the things that keeps us unhappy is this continual searching for pleasure or security, searching for a little more comfortable situation, either at the domestic level or at the spiritual level or at the level of mental peace.

The shorter the better.  I feel like I've been chasing lately.  Chasing the idea of a baby, a relationship, safety and security.  In that chase, I've encountered sleepless night, frustration, and wee bit of guilt.  Friends too, yes, but I don't sleep any easier for it.  I think the above ideas are acting like a tether around my neck, binding me to expectation and the pleasure of others.  

Tuesday I spent the day hiking, swimming, at the farmer's market, and in the evening, with friends.  It was perfect but it was while hiking that I felt the most at peace.  Simply in the now, one foot in front of the other, tenuous footing in the slippery mud.  A few couples passed me on the way back and both asked if I was alone.  Is it unusual to hike alone?  I love it.  Wild and free and sweaty and strong.

I'm relinquishing the search and am just going to give.  

I love this one because it looks as though I'm wearing the flowers in my hair and you can see the sweat on my face.

My mantra through the hike was, " I went to church today." How do you not feel god on this island?

Aloha.

Alpha males on the mainland

The woman who brought me to Kauai left the island about a month ago and now her second-in-command also announced his departure.  The opening team bails and new blood is brought in from the mainland.  When Bridget left, I moped for weeks, uncertain about the future of everything I had build here.  With Theron leaving, I'm mourning the loss of a friend, but am starting to understand what people have told me since I got here; There's always someone new arriving on Kauai.


Kauai continues to change me.  I've been hanging out with someone new, just a friend, and one night as I walked with him into the parking lot I found myself thinking that he better not drive a sedan.  I was ready to judge the poor boy on driving a normal car!  Somehow it's in my head now that real men drive trucks.  Imagine that ten months ago... I used to view men that drove trucks as scary Republicans on their way to a hunt.  It's the fucked up gender roles here.  Justin (new friend, and yes, he drives a truck) was telling me he visited New York City recently and he said he went to a club there, and "felt so alpha."  He said he was one of the biggest, most muscular guys guys there.  He said he felt like the only guy who'd ever been on a surfboard and he was full of judgment about it.  Even if they're skinny, the guys here are still alpha.  They hunt pigs, fish, surf, keep pit bulls, and drink lots of beer.  I wonder if I moved somewhere in the south or rural northwest US if I would change this way, or if it's the smallness of the population coupled with the absolute isolation.

Kauai can be a bit of an insider's club as well and I think that adds to the value morph.  The island makes  you fucking work for it and it is not easy.  Once you're settled though, the people here embrace you like nothing else.  I was out with some girlfriends last week and one of them had moved from LA about 5 years ago.  She said she still loves her friends back home but nothing compares to the friends that she has here.  It's true, in ten months, I have closer friends that I did in Denver.  Different kind of close.  Family kind of close, we're all in it together kind of close.

Secrets are impossible to keep here and I want to believe that keeps us honest, if not in action, at least in emotion.

Aloha.

Bringing it home

I didn't read The Secret, and what I do know about the book specifically, I've learned from Saturday Night Live skits basically asking, "What about Darfur, ASSHOLES?"  So yeah, it reminds me of the new age-y sorts who think you bring cancer upon your body by negative thinking and so on.  Self-righteous hippies blaming the victim; awesome.

But I do believe in the power of positive thinking and the whole "manifest" think sounds right if you compare it to exercise training.  Muscles respond and show heightened activity at rest if the subject is simply thinking about performing a physical act.

I ran a pretty good race on Saturday after not running the race distance for over four years and devoting about 2 days a week to training for a couple months on and off.  I was slacking, it rained all spring, whatever my excuse is, I was not super-prepared.  And so the last 2 weeks leading up to Saturday, I envisioned myself hurling up the hills of Lumahai, pounding over the double bridge, and cruising easily to the finish line at the pier.  Race day I woke up at 4:30, ate some almond butter, caught the shuttle down to Haena, cursed my goddamn ipod for taking a shit at the starting line and then ran my lungs out for 8 miles and clocked a good time.

Last race I did, my dad bailed at the last minute, so I ran it alone and finished alone.  This time I ran alone and finished alone, save from a phone call from the tow-in surfer I'd been hanging out with.  We met at Grandpas and went for a swim and I told him I just wanted to be friends.  He was upset, maybe more angry than hurt.  I hope I haven't made a mistake.  I just had nothing to say to him and I didn't want to kiss him.  I'm just not at the point where I can settle for someone who treats me right if the other stuff isn't there.

And as much as I like the 25 year-old, I have to let him go.  He hasn't called for three days and he should have.  After the success of the race, I tried the manifestation thing toward bringing someone complete into my life.  The last client of the day was a lawyer from SFO.  He was kind of douchey, but incredibly charismatic and reminded me that settling for someone who wants nothing in life, no matter how intense the chemistry, isn't worth investing in.

I went out that night and got drunk off pinots with Jenny and we ran into another gang of local boys and ended the night back at the pier, at a bonfire, under a sprinkling sky.  The island is small, but energy is boundless and I will manifest my heart out until I find the one who will make me want to kiss for days, talk for hours, and who will be there at the finish line.

Aloha.

Clarity (for now)

My acupuncturist has been reminding me, on a weekly basis, that the energy you put into your mind and your body, radiates to those around you.  Two months into it, I feel amazing and strong, and hopefully look it as well.

We talked about my romantic life today and aligning yourself to attract the people who most compliment you.  I was talking about the 38 year-old surfer, who in such a short time, has totally committed to me.  Trips to Indo promised, flowers and dinners gifted, and a good night phone call every night.  He would make an amazing dad. When I kiss him, I feel nothing.  Maybe a slight biological response, but nothing emotional.  It's like licking a stamp.  I've tried to back away, but apparently Jason is right, and I am absolutely terrible at breaking up with people.  So tonight, I'll break the ties for real.  It'll have to be over the phone, but I will do it.

So have I reached a point in my life when the loved-up fun relationships of yesteryear are no longer possible if that person isn't going to be the one I commit to forever?  I can see myself in an arrangement where I am good friends with the father, but am I destined to be married?  I'm so independent, so fearful of being caged, so in love with the possibilities of the world.  Does that vibe with marriage?  Yes, to the right person.

I need to take a step back, give thanks for the way another can make me feel, but reel in my emotions and expectations.  I'm happy being single and I miss the calmness and clarity that comes from not having any expectations of others.  I owe it to the right-on-paper guy to break things off and allow him to make another woman happy.  I owe it to myself to release the kiss-for-days guy and allow room for someone who will compliment me more.

Oh age... things get more complicated until you reach the next tipping point and then hopefully things just start cruising again.  Fifties, sixties?

I can't forget the rest of the world out there, and that this little island is not all there is.  The air, the fruits, the ocean, the green, the love, the happiness... it's palpable and intoxicating.  Ambition for more than those things does not exist here though and maybe that's the way things should be. One piece of clarity at a time.

Aloha.

Putting On My Big Girl Pants

Dating on Kauai; I'm becoming an expert.  From 24 year-old local boys to fifty-ish transplants, now I've got another lined up for tomorrow.  He's a tow-in surfer in his late thirties.  My friend Jane gave him my number tonight and within 30 seconds of her calling to tell me she did so, my other line was ringing.  This is intriguing after a few weeks of one man who was roughly twenty minutes late to our every hang out and another who took 6 months to get up the stones to finally ask me out.  Finally, I seem to have an encountered someone with enough lust for life to make things happen.

But then here's the thing, on the message he asked if I wanted to go surfing tomorrow.  Great, last time I went surfing, I was ten.  And I have to work.  So, instead we're meeting down at the beach tomorrow evening for a swim and sunset.  First date in a goddamn bikini.  Again.  The local boy and I met while I was wearing a bikini for the better part of 5 hours on his boat.  I need to find the confidence to be ok with this.  I'm almost there, my body is almost, within 5 pounds, of hot (enough).  I bought my first brazilian cut bikini bottoms last week at Jane's shop and I'm as tan as I will ever be.  Jane, in her thick Portuguese/Brazilian accent, is always telling me that confidence is the hottest thing a woman can wear.  I know this, I've just got to own it.

When I close my eyes, I see fragments spinning, pieces of my life unfolding and flying away.  They're red. Bridget is leaving to go to California for a few years.  I've been mourning her absence already.  She brought me here.  My faith in her gave birth to this life that I have now.  She told me today that she's already lined up our next professional task together.  She's become my sister, my mentor, my friend, and always, my boss.

I've never shied away from a new experience.  I'm ready for this summer.  I'm cautious yet exhilarated.  I have a feeling it's going to be a big, life-changing summer.

Aloha.

May Day is Lei Day

I need to get organized with this blog posting business.  I constantly have ideas darting in my brain and frantically running around yet when I go to write them down, they hide.  Stinkers.

Mom has had an interesting reaction to being back in Colorado after her last trip to Kauai. This time around, she was able to relax a lot more, not worry so much about me in a cabin in the jungle.  We walked the bay, cooked dinners from the farmer's market, toured the Na Pali, and drank many beers on the beach.  We drove each other a little nuts, but I think I just have that affect on people.  It really is fantastic to have other people visit when they have time shares and I can go home alone.  Since being home she's wistful for Kauai and the simple pleasure it offered her.  I don't remind her of the crazy struggles it presents as well.  She's lonely in her distance from my father and I believe she saw the potential of the legions of older surfer hotties here that would kill for a woman like her.  Renee summed it up when she said, "Your mom would be single for about twenty minutes."

I could tell she felt a bit uncomfortable with her appearance while she was here.  She's a beautiful woman, and in Colorado, with her make up on, and fashiony mom clothes, she's a hottie for her age.  Here?  Well, here it's different.  The day I picked her up from the airport was May Day.  A labor holiday in much of the world, here it is May Day is Lei Day.  You give leis and honor the spirit of aloha.  For two days leading up to May Day, we had ukulele and chanting in the cafeteria and a hula dancer.  I'll say it again, NO IRONY.

My dear friend Sylvia constructed a special hair clip lei for me and made a ritual out of taking the lei out of her own hair to give to me as a gift to my mom.  It was so touching and in doing it she really let me know I was loved by her.  She then asked, "Your mom has long hair, right?"  Oh.  Not many moms on the mainland do, past a certain age.  Here, the old women have the longest hair, which they wear natural and tucked in a bun or even loose.  So I did gift the lei to my mom, in honor of Syvia, but it kind of became a symbol of the difference in Hawaiian fashion.  I put a bug in her ear that she should grow out her hair, so we'll see.  If she does, it's a sign she's moving over.

I was looking at my friend Dave's facebook photos of the bars he frequents in Chicago.  The girls are beautiful, and mostly dressed in black, tight clothes, trendy, ironic, hipsterish.  The guys are kind of pretty too, in an ugly way.  Skinny and trying kinda hard.

None of that has hit this island.  Well, I've seen it here and there.  The film crews of course, and random visitors.  But overall, the women are amazingly traditionally feminine.  Long hair, beautiful tan bodies, lots of skin showing, always a flower in the hair.  The tuxedo pants and vests I wore in Denver would look like a costume here.  The men simply wear t shirts and board shorts.  The first night I went out with the 24 year-old, he put a little effort into it.  He wore a camouflage jacket over his t shirt.  Yup, camo and board shorts.  There is not a more Kauai local boy look that I can think of.  I can see how you'd wile away a lifetime here.

Aloha.

Longer Term Plans

I broke the news to Mom that I plan on staying on Kauai for longer than originally planned.  She agreed it was the right decision.  Now I have to tell Jen.

Having her here reinforced what I only tend to notice when people come visit.  The tourist experience on Kauai is miles away from the kama'aina experience.  The way we were ignored in various shops and restaurants was appalling.  Kauai service industry, lose the entitlement.  I'm used to getting fussed at by the local women and now find it a bit comforting.  It's like an Auntie whom you drive batshit insane, but who secretly loves you just a little bit.  That's what I feel like at the PO, grocery store, at the cafeteria at work, when calling public offices, and in most stores in Lihue.  Smile, smile, smile and you'll wear them down eventually.

I had a shitty day yesterday, full of cancelations and bitchy coworkers, and punctuated by missing my mom.  After work, I fled to Grandpas, texting Jenny on the way.  I parked, put on my bikini in the car, kissed the drunks on the picnic bench, and ran with my new friend into the Pacific Ocean.  Swimming as the paddle boarders circled us and the sun set behind the ridge was more reward than most experience on their honeymoon.

A local surfer boy has been pursuing me, which is confusing and exciting at once.  He drives a boat for a living, born and raised on Kauai.  We are as different as two people can be and still have a shot at anything.  Last night we are sitting in the local dive bar and he lets it slip he is 24 years old.  Such a weird feeling of ancientness, fear, and a little bit of pride.  We were sitting about 15 feet away from another man I have a date with later this week.  He's in his fifties.  So with the boy, I can admire his beauty and energy and laugh off his utter lack of sophistication.  He means well and does stuff like text me at 7 am to say good morning and show me pictures of the big fish he caught yesterday.

The older man requires a slower hand and perhaps none at all.  When I kissed him hello last night, he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye that read, "good job and good luck with that one."  The local boy was oblivious.  I have now hooked up with someone who actually lives on the island, and need to proceed very carefully.  Living in such a small space has taught me well what battles to fight and that sugar will get you far more than spice.

Mom's last night at Black Pot.  She was looking at real estate by her last day here.

Aloha.

Not Eating to Win

I've consumed 560 calories today and it's been a complete catalyst. I'm not exactly sure what part the food restriction played but today I was finally honest with Baltar about my feelings, I cried like a baby, and I got my period. Finally, on three counts!

I'm hungry but I'm clear. Intuition steered me to look closer at a NY Times article published earlier this year about a lifestyle movement based on paleolithic humans. My body has been fighting me for months and I wanted a solution that simply "made me feel human again." I ended up researching the theory of alternate day fasting and the effect is has on metabolism and liked what I was reading. As human animals, it is unnecessary to consume the exact same number of calories each day, rather we are programmed to deal with periods of hunger followed by satiety. When we eat a drastically reduced number of calories one day, followed by normal eating the next, we are stimulating SIRT1, a gene that extends the life of our cells. Resveratrol, the compound in red wine, also stimulates this gene. By alternating days, the body doesn't go into starvation mode, which destroys the metabolism.

To me, not eating more than a few hundred calories in day has the added benefit of taking my mind off food. I usually cook rather elaborate meals for just simple me, as I love the beauty of putting together dishes that offer the most color, nutrients, antioxidants and taste. But that ritual leaves me constantly thinking about food. I'm starting this food cycling program of one day 500 calories, the next a normal amount, to try and reset my thyroid and my metabolism.

I have an appointment with a nutritionist/acupuncturist tomorrow morning to review my blood work and help me further. Her intake was 12 pages of extremely personal questions so I'm hoping she delivers.

I'll conclude with a photo of a waterfall from my kitchen window:


Aloha.

Staying True to My Roots

I walked into work today and my boss practically shouts at me, "Your hair is so long!" He follows with a "Have you cut it since you've been here?" Well, yes, a quarter inch once and it was terrifying so I don't plan on cutting it again.  But he might have hinting at something.  My last service today was a couples massage and I asked the other therapist if I was looking too shaggy and should cut my hair.  His answer was a summary of Kauai fashion and he seemed to edging towards a compliment... but then he ended with, "And you look like a Viking cavewoman."  What???  *sigh* Do I look like a Viking cavewoman? There's so such thing.  I can never leave this island.

Falling back on an adolescence of Sassy magazine and grunge, I paid homage to my 15 year-old self tonight and collaged a shoebox.  Who needs nightlife?

Aloha.

Retraining the Brain.

I'm sitting on my lanai in the morning sun, with coffee and the cat. The cat has been christened Cruiser by the apartment complex at large, but I don't feel the name suits her at all. I just call her little one but she probably thinks her name is, "Get down off the bed right now!"

The cycles I've been through on Kauai are apparent. I arrived and fought a bit, moved to the jungle, and then accepted the island. I felt empowered and at home here. After my December visits, and trip to Tokyo, something changed. The jungle became overwhelmingly hard for the reward it offered, and I began to experience rock fever in a horrible way. I moved to Princeville, and my body and poor wee pituitary shut down, and I grew very sad.

I think the pattern here is sense of place and loss of love. My first cycle of happiness here was after I realized that Jen and I weren't meant to be, and while I struggled so terribly with the guilt of that and mourned our relationship, it freed me emotionally. I've come to another place where I realize that a love I was holding out for isn't going to happen, and the little fetal position my heart has held itself in is finally starting to unfold.

The question is, how do I reconcile feelings of love with an open heart and willing spirit? I feel that again now when love is gone, but to feel it when I have the love of another in my life is a challenge. I must equate love with weakness on some level, and so in being in love, I start to resent myself for being weak. Body and mind begin to shut down and I fulfill my own prophesy.

I've been churning the possibillty of staying on Kauai longer than planned. My friends and my family will be there when I get back, be it this summer, or next Spring. I've always wanted to do a massage course in Chang Mai and if I stay here through the fall, I could save enough to pay off my bills, go to Thailand for 3 weeks, and still go home for Christmas. I haven't mentioned this to my mom yet.

The new tribe initiates with feathers.

Aloha.

Straddling strangers

There's something in my energy that seems to be attracting needy men. Fortunately, or not, I'm not encountering these guys at the beach or in The Nui. These are paying men, Johns of a different skin trade. As a massage therapist and esthetician, I feel, see, and hear a lot. I look at the human body both more democratically, as 90% of them, share the same pains and disorganization. I also feel more frustration when people don't take care of themselves. The more you understand the body, I think the more you understand god manifests there. It's not a trash can. Don't put shit in it.

Today a client came in for a 90 minute sports massage and was freakin' ripped. Muscles a-blazing, he outlines his roster of injuries. I stepped out to let him change and get on the table, and I went to wash my hands. When I walked back in, he says, "You must have stepped away. I was yelling at you to you I was ready." Really? Really, we're starting like this? And so we begin. When I massage, I feel the skin and muscle as clay, and I concentrate on molding it to a new, healthier form. I work best in silence. He wouldn't shut up. I'm giving him three word answers. Still talking. Mostly bragging about his sports accomplishments. He finally gets me to open up when he mentioned the half marathon is his favorite distance. "Me too." Uh oh, here we go. Now he's talking like we're fitness warriors, fighting the obesity battle together. Then he asks if I massage my husband at night. Uh oh again. I hate it when male clients say shit like that. And if they're at all interested in me, they do. "Your husband is a lucky man!" Oh would you just think for one moment, because if I was married, the very last thing I do after a long day of offering sports massage is run home to rub on honey. Fuck no... Next he's talking about how fat his wife has gotten and he "keeps telling her but she won't listen." Dude, she's doing it because she hates you, and doesn't want you touching her.

I opened my macbook to write about another client though. A local guy I saw a couple days ago. These island guys are huge and all dense muscle. Tongan or Samoan. He was my last client of the day. I did everything I could. I was sweating, hands shaking, hair in my face, on my elbows, fists, forearms. Nothing was doing it for him. "More pressure, please!" So I used the last tool in my box. I braced myself, put one knee on the table, swung the other knee so it rested on the base of his glutes, then straddled the man. I had both fists along his erector spinae, and moved my knees to deep in his glutes. And I hung out there, working my knees down his hamstrings. I did a push-up or two. And then hopped down and finished up the session. In Colorado, that is completely illegal and not within the bounds of my license. It was separates me from a postitute basically. On Kauai, people love it, and I was gifted a $60 cash tip. The crazy thing is, having someone get on the table truly offers no deeper pressure. I can get much deeper with a smaller vector of my force; the tip of my elbow. It's the theatrics and bragging rights. And heck, it's worth a big tip and some relief to my poor hands.

Aye me though. How long am I going to do this?

Aloha.

Better not to know

I dated a guy once that looked just like Glen Danzig. He had long black hair, blue eyes, big muscles, and drove some sort of... omfg, he drove a local boy truck! This guy was so good to me. He sent me flowers at work, wrote me poetry, went for beers with my dad, completely giving in bed, kinda bullied my ex, what's not to love? Bless his big handsome heart, he was a dummy. So dumb, in fact, that his nickname was Dumbzig.

Dumbzig had no idea he was dumb. He just didn't know. And to clarify, he wasn't stupid, he was dumb. Space cadet, smoked too much weed, maybe a wee bit of head trauma as a child, dumb. And he was so happy with his lot in life. The man walked around with swagger, sex appeal and a smile. I've been reading through an old email account that I now only use for ordering things online, but that used to be my primary personal account. There are some doozies. The charting of entire relationships. One from Mr. D about two months in reads: "Just thinking of you, and it put a big smile on my face. Just want you to know you make me proud to be with you, and to be lucky enough for you to call me your boyfriend...it makes me happy. see you later Beautiful, Yours always, love ....."

Fast forward six months and I get this: "Take a look at this stupid shit were fighting about. How about working on communication skills, and I know I'm guilty too. But come on it was never supposed to be this hard. I think your not ready for a relationship, I understand I've been there too. If you want it to be over between us could you let me know in person? I deserve that much respect."

Yeah... certainly not stupid. I still need to work on those things. He later told me that I broke his heart. Then he moved to Florida and had babies. My point in writing this was originally that sometimes not knowing is better. I am a smart girl. I'm not ironic hipster funny and I haven't managed grad school yet, but I'll do. I can figure shit out. Right now, I've figured some things out from prolific facebook posts and I certainly don't think I'm the better for it.

Dumbzig cruised through this world with his shit-eating grin and charisma like a talisman because he didn't know what other people were saying about him. He didn't get that he didn't get it. And so every decision he made was from a place of confidence.

There's so much information now. Social network has made dating both easier and harder. Now we get to see every interaction those we care about have with others, we (all hundred plus for most people) all see break ups, make ups, and silences. People get tagged in photos that reveal what hours of pondering couldn't come close to. And so instead of walking around with Dumzig swagger, I for one, walk around with a sick feeling in my belly that things aren't as they should be.

I want to be Dumbzig. Well shit, guess I'll add him as a friend instead. I think I owe him a drink and an apology, in that order.

Aloha.

Good vibes

Last night was pivotal for me in a few ways and I'm trying to work them out through the haze of remembrance of a very late night. I've met a bit of a soul sister on this island. She's an Irish girl, a few years older than me. We share some physical traits: long hair, big blue eyes, bit of a wonky nose. She's tiny and dark-haired but there's enough of a vibe that a few people commented on it last night. We met and just knew each other and as our life stories started to unfold, things that I've explained to others that they judge as crazy or reckless, she just smiled and shared a similar story. We lived in London at the same time, both heavy into the party scene; her jungle, me psy trance. Last night she took me to my first dance party on Kauai.

I met so many people, a few insane, a few very true souls. I spent an hour talking with with one guy, alternating dancing and chilling out on the couches with him. At the end of the night, he found me, told me how moved he was by our connection and then told me all about his wife and kids. It was actually a really cool, totally honest interaction. All the people I met had a common thread; Kauai, of course, and freedom.

I think I've tortured myself trying to fit others definitions of what I should be and how I should behave. Relationships, friends, parents. People always have an opinion on the decisions I have made that don't follow the trajectory that the majority follow. Jobby job, relationship, house, ect. And that's amazing for them, AMAZING, I'm so happy for them. But it's not for me. It's just not for me, and I know that so deeply. Being around others who are also free from these expectations was so soothing, so connected. Kauai is a tribe and those that live here work very hard to do so. I've been to many parties in many places yet rarely have I had the profound feeling that I was connected to every person there on a level beyond the music (or drugs, of which I had none last night.) I felt connected in choosing a different life, a different place. Connected in soul and energy rather than age or occupation.

My first month here I sat on the bluffs next to the hotel and dangled my legs high above the Pacific. I thought, "I'm on this island for a reason I haven't yet discovered." And then I put that feeling to rest for a bit and got caught up in emotions of love or commitment to other places and people. But that feeling is back. I believe by embracing the island and dancing with my new tribe, I will fully allow this journey to complete a part of me. Or rather I will allow my mind to take a back seat and let my spirit drive. It always has, but I'll just stop nagging it.

Aloha.

Like ripe avocados

I've been working out every single morning, and I do it because I absolutely love it. I also do it because I don't want to be fat. Yesterday evening I returned from work, and took off my shirt in preparation to jump in the shower. The phone rang, so I ended up spending a bit of time topless... and damn if I do love my boobs now. I'm still bigger than I was by a good eight pounds, but my abs are tight and the boobs are luscious. It's time to make peace.

I feel like two people very close to me are upset with me because I wasn't pregnant. I think about it daily; the what-ifs, the conversations had, the silence now. I did not choose to remain childless, but it happened. It's making me feel like I've disappointed those I love and who were most supportive at one time. I still haven't fully cried about it. A couple of tears, nothing satisfying, not for months.

I daydream of remaining on Kauai, drifting in the Pacific, anchoring myself further to this wild land and people. I have a small tribe here now. A good job. And I know that I will meet someone to love and that it will be soon if I open myself up to it.

Here's an avocado that my neighbor gave me that's almost as big as my head:


Aloha.

Overall malaise explained!

It's my pituitary gland! While that might not seem usual cause for an exclamation point (!) I am suitably excited enough for three!

"If the T4 level is low and TSH is not elevated, the pituitary gland is more likely to be the cause for the hypothyroidism. Of course, this would drastically effect the treatment since the pituitary gland also regulates the body's other glands (adrenals, ovaries, and testicles) as well as controlling growth in children and normal kidney function. Pituitary gland failure means that the other glands may also be failing and other treatment than just thyroid may be necessary. The most common cause for the pituitary gland failure is a tumor of the pituitary and this might also require surgery to remove." www.endocrineweb.com

The doc said that this combined with my eczema points to an autoimmune disease, triggered by internal or external allergy. Pleasedontletitbeglutenpleasedontletitbegluten. Or dairy. Stinky cheese and crusty bread are rewards for this lifetime of suffering and I just can't do the time without the reward.

Either way, she's put me on thyroid medication and upon inspection, they are the exact same medication our 16 year old golden retriever takes every morning.

That's right Rosie, I'm right there with you.

Aloha.

"We offer you this Snickers."

Work has been physically brutal the last few weeks. If I get home while the sun is up, I try to go for a run. I love passing all the drunk golfers on their way home, and smelling early barbeque in the neighborhood back yards. If I get home after the sun has set, I am done for. I usually eat, shower, read, internet, or tv, then in bed by 10pm. Last night I was on the tv portion of the night was there was a tapping on my door. I know exactly who it was; Naia, the girl who stays with her dad next door on the weekend. Dad has been over a couple of times to chat about raising a teenager, and while I don't mind at all, at the literal end of the day, I like a little privacy. Last time I gave him a stack of fashion magazines to give her. Could be a controversial move but the poor thing is struggling.

I lowered the volume of my new favorite show, and didn't move a muscle. These walls are thin. I hear the guy next door blow his nose. I knew that she knew that I was home. She knocked five different times, each to a count of three. Oh boy... this little girl is... special. Maybe not officially, but socially, most definitely. Jason ran into her when he was helping me move in, and said, "Excuse me." Her answer was, "You're excused."

She comes to see me as a client at the spa. I didn't realize she was the girl next door until Tsunami Saturday, when she brought me over a surprise Krispy Kreme.

This morning I found the following affixed to my door, complete with a mini Snickers bar:



First of all, why are they trying to fatten me up? Second, whose number is that, because dad better not be using his daughter to get me to call? Third, THAT IS SO KAUAI. Seriously.

The coconut wireless. Last week my boss heard about my key-losing adventures via that exact medium. Sometimes it's great, like the time I lost my drivers license and someone found it, recognized me, and returned it to the hotel in under an hour. Sometimes it's not great, like when the boss finds out that once again, you've managed to lose a vital possession running the bay on your day off. When you want this exact person to give you lots more responsibility, it's not a good thing.

So do I call? I'm going to call, but in the middle of the day, on a weekday, and pray for voicemail.

Aloha.

What I can offer to everyone.

I found a random pink pill in one of my bags and took half. It's been an hour and I can't exactly what it was, although it was definitely a depressant...

At work today I had a guest come back and see me for a final service before he flew out. He's a talkative and fairly charming guy, easily star-struck and a bit "Aww shucks." He was telling me about his daughter and how she needs him to play with her hair and stroke her face before she falls asleep every night. He said he begs his wife for the same treatment but she says her hands get too tired.

So, for the last 20 minutes of his appointment, I stroked his face gently and played with his hair. I didn't necessarily do massage moves, I just intuitively did what I think he needed. He fell asleep fast, almost curled up on his side.

It was so intimate that I felt moved to write about it. When the hour was up, it dawned on me that he would be paying for that experience. I think sometimes we book services like massage, facials, even nails and haircuts and we don't go because we need our muscles unwound or pores extracted. We just need another caring human to nurture us and to let us feel perfectly safe. My heart grows bigger every time I am able to move another person to feel loved and nurtured.

Now I'll sleep.

I dream of Freja Beha hair

Freja, Freja, Freja. I'm sure she makes even the straightest of girls blush. And yes, she makes me do much more than blush, but what I'm thinking about tonight is her hair. I've been thinking about her hair for over a year now. She doesn't even have that hair anymore, it's grown out to a long shaggy bob with bangs. But that weird, messed up skater-boy haircut that she was sportin' on '08 has stuck with me.

I have long, wavy, auburn hair. I wash it every other day, put coconut oil in it, braid it, and let it air dry. I am as hopeless at using a hair dryer as I am at running the bay without losing valuables. It doesn't lend itself to much other than Pre-Raphaelite. In doing a bit of googling, I came across this gem, "After washing, the tresses were plaited while still wet...and then allowed to dry, creating a naturally crimped look." The source is a book called The Pre-Raphaelite Women: Images of Femininity in Pre-Raphaelite Art, by Jan Marsh.

I shaved head head in college and then proceeded to wear a beanie for six months. God bless Colorado winters. It was also the mid-nineties and things were still all "rave-y" so with my big JNCOs, silver eyeshadow, and septum piercing, I could kind of get away with it. I was dancing at a rave once when a woman started filming me. I asked her what the project was about and she described some sort of queer studies thing and then said, "And you've got that funky butch dyke look down!"

Jen loves that story.

I then grew out my hair for three years and decided to chop it all off again my last year at college. Still raving, but I was now living in London, about to graduate with a degree in Language and Literature. Obviously looking the part for my soon-to-be-offered high power job was obviously not an issue. I walked into the Toni and Guy salon, pointed to a haircut on the wall, and sat down. I had a couple long, tiny braids with beads running through the underside of my hair (rave-y?) and I asked if I could keep those and still go short. The guy didn't even acknowledge my question, rather he sniffed, raised an eyebrow, and lopped them all off.

And while hot girl ranking plummeted with the lads, I actually felt totally confident in a different way. I remember catching sight of myself while shoe shopping and thinking that even if I wasn't a "cute girl" anymore, I looked self-possessed as hell.

In typing all of this, I'm thinking that perhaps what I'm searching for is a definitive look. Dita Von Teese does not need to cut her hair in order to look like the most self confident woman in the world.
Maybe I'll guarantee singledom the entire duration of my island stay, and cut if off again.


Damn, Freja, Aloooo-ha.

"Baby, your boobs aren't big enough to use them as storage."

Today's woes actually began last night, when Baltar kicked me off his spaceship. What can I do? I am unlovable in my distance, both spiritual and physical.

Today began with new hope. Sun! The sun finally appeared, the Kauai Tourism Board exhaled, and tourists got happy and started spending money again. When the weather's shitty, the tourists get resentful of giving such an uncooperative island any cash and the service industry acutely suffers.

I took the opportunity to relax around the apartment until mid-morning, instead of my usual sprint out the door at 7:30am, trying to get in four miles before the rain started for the day. Around ten I drove down to Hanalei Bay and parked at the patch of beach known as "Grandpas." No one can tell me why it's called that, but the entire island knows it as such. There's also Kiddies, Black Pot, Pine Trees, and Bathrooms. But I like Grandpas. I don't know if that's possessive or not. Grandpa's? Do the Grandpa's own the beach? Grandpa's Beach? Or Grandpas plural, just lots of old guys.

Anyway, in preparation for my chug along the bay, I dropped the key to my car in my sports bra. I have used this trick since high school. It's always the bra drop or the shoe tie and since I was running barefoot, I had no choice.

Forty minutes later, the key is gone, and I'm a hot sweaty mess, trying desperately not to look quite so bedraggled, as I'm going to need to turn on the charm. I call my friend Renee. Her advice is first, "Baby, your boobs aren't big enough to use them as storage." And then she offers her husband to drop me in Princeville in an hour and a half. Hmmm... I call a couple more people and get voicemail. Hmmm... Hello surfers! I managed to get a shirtless beauty over to break into my car with a single sad look, but once in, I have no way to turn the engine. Hmmm... Hello beach bum!

I approach the nearest one who I know lives in his van, offer $20 and the chance to experience an actual woman in his passenger seat, and we're off to P'ville. Until the goddamn muffler falls off his car and we spend 40 minutes attending to it. Well, he attended, I took sneaky photos of the ordeal. See me in the reflection?


Get back to Grandpas, grab a smoothie, go to the farmer's market, get home and throw some laundry in, take a well-deserved shower, put laundry in the dryer...

"Goddamn it!!!" I put my new high-tech acne machine through the wash. My brand new, just paid $100 for Zeno. OK, obviously today's woes have been put into motion by my prematurely geriatric mind and I have to address it. What would Marion do? She would lecture me on amino acids and evening primrose oil. I went to Foodland, purchased two organic chicken breasts, baked them and had half of one over a salad for dinner. What would Mom do? Drink and go to bed. OK, evening sorted.

Aloha.

The Pond

It looks beautiful, doesn't it? It was beautiful on a warm morning, after a run, a light trade-wind blowing. Or a chilly morning, light rain, the hot water delicious on my skin. That shower's outdoors, and whatever mother nature was serving up on a particular day in Hanalei, I got to experience first hand. See the fresh water through the wood slats? That's another thing I got to experience, very personally. That koi pond was the source of all the water to the cabin. Washed my dishes, brushed my teeth, and bathed all my bits in that pond water. It was wonderful at first, fortifying to my city ways. I felt goddess-y standing naked outside, not really caring if the homeless man in the jungle was watching or how big the spider in the web above the shower head was growing.

Well... deep down I cared, but when you're paying $1200 a month to camp, you must be suppressing a bit of reality anyway. Five months of showering in that pond water, festering with frogs, pig shit, and various fowl, this happened:


Around the same time, my landlord developed a yeast infection in his mouth, a neighbor up the way, an eye infection, and Renee, sores on her legs that refused to heal. Doctor's orders on all three? No more pond water.

I used to be very judgmental in regard to people not taking proper care of themselves. A lot of it has to be with the fact that I'm paid to touch people, clean or not, and seriously, some folks should be ashamed. How hard is to to exfoliate and make sure your feet don't reek? But after showering in that pond water for five months, I developed eczema that I'm still battling. It flares up when I'm stressed, but keeping my skin clean and well-hydrated keeps it under control. It completely went away in Tokyo and got so bad upon my return, my boss debated letting me see clients.

In other news, I got fantastic news on the career front and celebrated by purchasing these boots:

These boots are the opposite of a dirty, pig-shit, pond shower.

Aloha.

Au courant

Yesterday was a tormenting day at work and in order to cleanse myself of the taint of so many bodies in need, I fell back on my rituals. I walked home from the resort along the cliffs over the ocean, stopping to watch for whales. At home, I made a farmer's market salad and ate outside in the very last glimmer of daylight. Then I took a bath as hot as I could stand it, poured a large Springbank, two ice cubes, and settled in for the night to eat some pretzel sticks and watch The September Issue.

I am indeed enamored with fashion. I myself am not particularly fashionable; I don't have the body or wealth for it to come too easy, nor the "eye" for it to come naturally. I could never be a stylist or editor, re-imagining clothes and inventing trends. Rather I have an intellectual curiosity mixed with a young girl's glee. I follow the shows each season, know the major players, and read the blogs. In Saudi Arabia, I would stay up very late to watch Elsa Klensch on CNN and various fashion reporting shows out of Lebanon. I can speak the language. I remember once at work asking a coworker if her client was "the one with the Anna Wintour bob?" and her insiders laugh at my question. Ah yes, Anna Wintour. She's not really the insiders code name though. No, that probably falls to Carine Roitfeld, editor-in-chief of Vogue Paris. Still incredibly famous in the fashion world, she's just off the radar enough that most people in gen pop don't know her name.



It's obvious which Vogue each of the above women respectively charter, isn't it?

One thing that struck me while watching last night was the natural appearance of so many of the woman working at American Vogue. Maybe it's because I work in the beauty industry and therefore am constantly coaching and tutoring my clients on how to achieve the plumpest cheeks, fullest lips, most even-toned complexion, but I was surprised. It could have been an East Coast thing as well. Most of the clients that I see from NYC have that similar look; wilted and wrinkly in the face, hot body, opposite of "cute" fashion. West Coast ladies are a different species, with their huge lips, big brea..., wait reverse those, big lips, HUGE breasts, and love of cute.

I do "cute" pretty well on this island, but I prefer ladylike. Ladylike with a nuance of strange, maybe. Like blue eyelet on a warm spring day in the city, but with knee socks and heels... *sigh*



Aloha.

Hawaii's quintessential address

Long day of brand training today. I work in an environment that strives for five diamond/five star status. We haven't been officially rated yet, but rumor has it we were shopped before even being open 6 months, and fears are that it didn't go well. I think that anyone shopping a major remodel under the 6 month mark, is trying to reward 4 stars instead of 5. I've helped open two spas and both were new constructions. In both locations fire alarms, loss of power, music, and data, and hvac issues were all a common occurrence. If we can get in our required two instances of formal name use, anticipation of guest needs, serve beverages on a tray, and bake a cake for your tenth wedding anniversary while the freakin' fire alarm is going off, please...

I really want that job though. I've a hawk eye for these things, fine-tuned for years by a southern mother raising a girl in the Middle East. Here's the 2010 Annual Star Awards. I noticed both the Ritz in Vail and St. Regis in Aspen only managed 4 stars. The Broadmoor scored 5 in both spa and hotel. Next time I'm back in Colorado, I want to drive down to The Springs and experience them for a night.

Working in this environment must affect my everyday life. Once one starts a new habit at work it's hard to shake it at play. One thing I am working on is my colloquial "you guys." I absolutely need to stop addressing people as "you guys." It's the equivalent of licking one's fingers at the dinner table. Or at least, that's how I'm thinking of it in my mind to get myself to stop saying it. The trainer highly suggested I use "Ladies and Gentlemen" but that's not rolling off the tongue very easily.

We touched on pointing today as well, which made me giggle, after the point-fest faux pas that was Tokyo. It absolutely does look completely tacky when you see how the gestures look done side-by-side: the finger point vs. the open hand sweep.

It's these type of things though, that make me wonder how all this is going to translate on Kauai. In Denver I could maaaybe get away with sweeping hand gestures, "Ladies and gentlemen," and drinks on trays in my everyday existence, but here? My friends in Hanalei already think I'm a princess, and so my conclusion is that in order to avoid ridicule, I'd just have to hang out with work people.

FYT, a favorite picture of Tokyo. It reminds me of getting lost in Shinjuku, and the little places that felt like solitude in that rush of humanity.



Aloha.

Mahalo for removing your slippahs.

I had broadband installed today. The tech took off his shoes before coming in, which is an absolute necessity on the islands, and in opinion, needs to carry on over to the mainland. When I watch TV now, I cringe when people wear their shoes inside the house.

When the cable guy was done, he needed to see my driver's license in order to verify my identity. He actually giggled. The Oceanic Time Warner cable guy giggled at my stupid driver's license picture. When that picture was taken 6 months ago, I didn't think it was so bad. I am embarrassed to admit it after today, but I actually thought it was kinda cute. When I protested, he said, "you just look mad in that picture!"

So I did a side by side comparison, and I don't think I look mad... I just don't look islandy yet.



If I'm at all dressed up, I still get, "where are you visiting us from?" all the time. But today, I have on a ratty dress, crazy hair, and lip gloss. It's the island girl look.

Aloha.

Wish you were here.

 Insomnia has always been one of my big issues, but since moving to Kauai, I have slept peacefully and consistently. I think it has to do with the amount of sunlight I'm exposed to, regulating my circadian cycles and pumping me full of vitamin D.

I was a total wreck this time 2009. I hated my boss, felt claustrophobic in a relationship, and was struggling with how different I was from all my friends. They tend to have things like husbands, well-paying jobs, and houses. Babies too. I had an apartment I shared with my girlfriend and our cat, a low-paying job, and no biological means to procreate with the woman I loved.

Fast forward a year... Jen and I have split up and I won't go into the gory details of what else I have cookin', but I will admit that babies are heavily on my mind. I want one. And I want one with an amazing person. I want one to celebrate the beauty of humanity and the story we tell throughout our lives. Full stop. I will update on that situation when I've some real news to share.

But moving on, or rather back, what to do to cheer myself up? The first night Jason met me, I was wearing red pants. I no longer feel quite so cavalier as to sport red pants, those these days, I use red lipstick.

When I saw the little bird on the lanai matched my lipstick, I ran outside and took a group photo. I wear my glasses about once a month, reason being, they always end up looking as they do in the photo above. Are my ears crooked? I look high.

In Kapa'a today I saw a sticker on a truck that sums up how many of the locals feel:




Notice the gun?

Aloha.

Wahine wear

It's pissed-off tourist season on Kauai, which, in translation means it's been raining every day, all day. I've been feeling down lately, and usually a cure for the blues for me is vigorous exercise. Today I said to myself, "to hell with getting wet and frizzy, I am going for a run!" And so I did, but first I had to figure out what to wear. This is usually not something I ponder, I grab shorts and a t-shirt or tank, and go.

However...

On Kauai, there is tourist wear and there is local wear. If you are local- and by local, I mean you live here, are kama'aina, not Hawaiian- then you are expected to show some skin. When I jog Hanalei Bay in shorts and and t shirt, I look like the fattest of redhead super-blobs to ever run the bay. I'm 5'8 and about 132. Not small, but not fat. But here, when you dress conservatively, you're asking to be disdained. Most girls run the bay in their bikinis. Some are tan, lithe, 23 year-olds. Some are tan, chubby, 55 year-olds. Doesn't matter, everyone's in a bikini. There's also a difference between the bikinis the locals and tourists wear. Local girl will be in a brazilian bikini, cut away on the bottoms, and hanging out everywhere. Even the big girls are in them. Tourists are in their one piece (totally weird here) or muted color full-bottom bikinis with spray tans and done hair.

A local girl is always luscious looking. Very long hair; like the rings on a tree trunk, you can tell how long a woman has been here by the length of her hair. Long hair, little clothing, faintly tinted red from the island dirt. Basically a bit off looking, compared to the mainland. I once ran into a woman at Costco wearing a beige bra as a shirt and no one looked twice but the tourists. You can get away with some crazy shit here.

Local boys are even more casual. It's hard to get them to put on a shirt. You will also know them by the Kauai local boy truck.



Keepin' it classy on Kauai. Today I ran in a pink sports bra and adidas shorts. Seven more pounds and a few more months of island living before I'm rocking the bikini.

aloha.

That aint no slippah spider

I blame Tokyo. A dear friend invited to tag along on a business trip to Tokyo, and who says no to Tokyo? I had about 2 weeks notice, which was just enough to realize I had no appropriate clothing or shoes, to order a bunch of stuff online, and for only two things to manage to get to Kauai.  Forgive me, I've spent the last 6 months basically camping on a very expensive deserted island.

So I arrive in Tokyo with my hodgepodge of collected wintery things: a velvet jacket which had been on sale for like 6 months, some boots with tons of potential, and a new perfume that was heavy and wintery and the opposite of the way anything on Kauai smells.

The jacket and perfume were winners. Boots not so much. That's my review under msmelissa on the Nordstrom site. Shhh... I wore those things all over Tokyo and sent them back a week later. But hey, I am loyal and they get lots of my money.

Long story short: Tokyo rocked. We laughed our asses off, got lost, drank excellent scotch, ate some astounding and some questionable food, bought music, and delighted in how awkwardly different American culture is to Japanese. My friend is quite small and very slim for a guy, so he fit right in, while I, being 5'8 and insisting on wearing heels the whole time, was BIG.

Even being huge there, I still felt 100% woman. I woke up and put on a kimono. I wore make-up. I wore tight clothes and even when I was in pain, I put on those heels again, because damn it, I looked good.

Coming back to this island: I arrived, and drove my beat-up car with no ac back to Hanalei. I had to stop to fill up gallon jugs of water behind the health food store, as I couldn't drink the water at the cabin. Then I off-roaded on a jungle path for 1/2 mile until I got home and lugged bags and water through the mud and foliage. The homeless man and his puppy staying in my cabin greeted me with the news all my wine and scotch were gone. The next night, I found a cane spider in the cabin. It was so huge that Jeff needed A NET to capture and kill it. That ain't no slippah spider. And then the morning after that, I took a shower, covered myself in a rich lotion, and put on my bathrobe, which unbeknownst to me, was crawling with ants which were now all over my naked body. OMFG, kill me now.

I went from clean, dry kimonos, room service and breakfast buffets, fashion and new music, to the above scenario. I moved.

Getting back to my original point, somehow this all relates, though I'm still figuring it out.

Aloha.

Tsunami Saturday left-overs

I just selected my profile picture and after glancing through the past year on iPhoto, nothing quite sums up the past 6 months as a picture of me looking bedraggled, confused, and in an obviously Kauai setting. I'm like the big, red, haole giant of the north shore, trying to fit in and yet still hold on to some semblance of the city girl I was 6 months ago.

We had a tsunami warning on Saturday and friends from Hanalei were evacuated and came and hung out with me in high and dry Princeville. They brought what food they could score from Foodland on their way over: Oreos, stoned wheat thins, brie, bourbon, and radishes. On their departure they took all the good stuff and left me with the radishes.

Radishes?

So tonight I lopped off the little radish balls and made soup with the greens.

Aloha.