Poetry is Bubbles.

My senior year in high school, I decided I was just so over things like "AP Courses" and "Having a Future," and this caused my already laughable academic career to become somewhat ridiculous.  So, the second semester of that year, having dropped my AP English course, I landed in Mr. Graham's class, where we mostly watched episodes of Lost and had spelling and grammar tests (no, really).  Once, though, he put us in pairs and gave us an assignment to write a methaphorical poem about out lives that we would present to the class in a powerpoint presentation.

Naturally, our first step was to find a really killer theme for the powerpoint.  We decided on this background that featured a small child blowing bubbles into a perfect sunset scene, because we thought it would highlight our angsty, sarcastic personalities.  We named the poem, Poetry is Bubbles. 

I remember nothing about the poem itself, except that it had nothing to do with bubbles.  What I do remember, though, is that we had downloaded our special theme from the Microsoft website, and so when we plugged our flash drive into the projector, it didnt copy over and we lost our killer background and our title ended up being less funny and more confusing to the rest of our classmates.  It was quite disappointing.

That just sort of sums up my whole existence.  Awkward stares and failed jokes.

....right.

So, I'm back in Arkansas for a few more weeks, and then making the big, permanent move to Maui.  It's going to be a terrifying adventure, but I think I'm finally ready for it.

2011: Year of more Lackluster Blog Posts!

Here's the thing about Hawaii -
(and about moving to places where you only know one person and you don't have your car and you don't know your way around so when you do have a car you don't know where you're going, and even if you did, you only know the one person so WHO ARE YOU GOING TO GO SEE!)
There just isn't much to blog about, I'm afraid.  Vacation blog posts are just never very comprehensive and are usually filled with pictures of sand and other things that are only pretty if you're standing right in front of them (or if you happen to be a golden god with a camera).  So here I am, on this sort of extended vacation, and I don't really know what to do with myself.  Don't get me wrong, this place is amazing.  Everything looks like something out of a travel guide - the beaches, the shops, the little towns, the people (hello, eating disorder).  It still sort of feels like a dream.  I just don't know how to put it all here.

What I am saying is this: I need a job.  In a bad way.  I was certainly not cut out for a life of leisure.
Also, maybe some friends would help.  I would prefer to import my own, but I am open to making some new ones, though I'm beginning to wonder if I remember how to do it.  I lived in the same town for 22 years.  Spending that long in a place that small means that you are basically established by the time you are six years old and relationships no longer require effort.  Now I'm in a surprisingly similar setting, only on the outside.  I'm surrounded by surfers and hippies and people with good tans, and I'm just having a hard time feeling like anything but a tourist.  A squatty, pale, awkward tourist (I seriously cannot get over how hot everyone is here.  It is truly damaging.)

Please, someone pity me.  Such a hard life in paradise.  I know.  Even I want to punch me.

Lets take a minute to relish in some accomplishments, because I could go for an ego boost right now:
-  Made it through three airports (including DFW and LAX, thankyouverymuch) by myself, which of course includes getting on three airplanes (one of my many paralyzing phobias).
-  Made it through my first Christmas without my family (but did get to spend it with a very nice stand-in family and of course E, who I'm growing quite attached to.)
-  By tomorrow I will have finished two books in less than a week.  Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've read a book from start to finish?  Because I don't.  Too long.
-  Also on the agenda for tomorrow (Yes, I'm bragging prematurely.  Let me have this.):  Ocean!  Something else on my ever-expanding list of fears is large open spaces, especially if those spaces are filled with water.  It's definitely been an adjustment, seeing the ocean pretty much constantly.  So tomorrow I'm finally going to brave it and stick my toes in a little. 

and a Happy New Year!

...I love baby goats.

You guys, this place is the perfect combination of Green Acres and... I don't know, some television show based around the beach.  Bay Watch!  Yes.  It's like Bay Watch, because everyone here is gorgeous.  I've just been lurking in the shade, my pasty white skin glowing like I just fell off of a radioactive waste truck.  It's all very tragic.  So, I guess the Bay Watch part of the combination is less than perfect, but at the very least, I'm getting an opportunity to face my insecurities and also get sunburned a lot.  Yay?

Friday night we went to see Lukas Nelson in his father's (Willie!) bar.  It was an awesome show, with an odd mix of dirty hippie, dirty surfer and dirty redneck.  Very nice.

E's house is surrounded by farm animals.  Mostly of the goat and horse persuasion.  Did  you know that baby goats are basically puppies?  They are the cutest, most amazing little animals on the plant.  They bounce everywhere, tails wagging and heads bobbing.  It is completely ridiculous.  I'm in love.

Speaking of my puppies, I miss my dog.
His birthday is on the 27th and of course, I'm going to miss it.  I'm weary of bringing him out here because he would have to stay outside because E is allergic to dogs (but less so cats? a likely story) and Oliver was just not raised to be an outside baby.  I cried when I left him with my parents.  You just can't explain to a dog that you're leaving for a while, but you'll come back to see him and he didn't do anything wrong.  I am the worst dog-mom ever. 

Now that I've turned myself into a weepy mess, here are those boring pictures of sand you were looking forward to, Steven:

These were all from the super-touristy, beach-front-condo part of the island.

I'd be okay with never going there again, but the beaches

are gorgeous.

HI.

Not "Hi!" ... HI! 
Like, Hawaii.
Because that's where I am.

That was anticlimactic, wasn't it?

More specifically, I am in Maui, in the most perfect little house in the most perfect little town. 
My mind has been sort of blown the past few days, combined with an outrageous case of jet lag, so I don't have much to offer right now.  It took me about 12 hours to start applying for jobs, though, if that tells you anything.

So, there are things I really like about Hawaii, like how its so vegetarian friendly and the people are wonderful and you can go from a gorgeous countryside to the beach in under twenty minutes.

And then, there's the thing I love about Hawaii:

I know!
(ALSO: I am two days late on my "post every day" promise, but I'll keep it up from now on!)