i'm getting dizzy, just enjoy the party

well the countdown is on, and i can feel it. it's like my subconcious can feel it even if my brain doesn't believe it. things feel different. excitement, change, adventure, just around the corner.

yesterday i got to be the cool kid. yesterday was good. i baked. allll day. i hulled strawberries and coaxed dough into rising and spilled flour and over whipped some whipping cream. it took a lot of trips to the store.

the recipe was easy--take a couple cups of calories and dump them into a plate and throw some healthy strawberries on top to trick everyone into eating it.

it worked.

i took a break in the middle to take pick jace and his friends up from school and take them to quiznos and throw some money around, making me the cool big sister, which is what i always aim to be.

i even let aria sit shotgun and eat leftover chocolate from a bowl.

[notice the chocolate on her forehead....?]

i made bruschetta and pasta and four sauces and breadsticks and a lovely strawberry pie. i was so proud.

and dinner was an event of its own. me being tongue tied, not knowing what to say to smooth over the awkward comments, to lead the conversation to the right place. praying. changing my prayers.

remembering a word that i'll never forget again:
apoyar.


my night ended with a ditched pool party, pushing my greasy bangs out of my face, spilling water on myself, borrowing shoes, and "poly wanna cracker? cracker wanna poly?"

it was good. i wanted to bottle it up and save it. forever. i felt a peaceful contentedness, like the way I can curl up in a passenger seat having a full belly leaving the resturaunt knowing i've taken in more than mozerella sticks. the kind of warmness that gives me the chills. a kind of contentment that i'd be happy to have in my life everyday of forever. that will let me sleep with a smile on my face.

[Title from Hello by Martin Solveig ft Dragonette]

excuse me.

I feel morose. And unfriendly. It's been a rough couple of days, during which I felt like I've hated everyone.

I'm way too sensitive. I take everything personally, even when people aren't intending to be rude. And while I recognize that I just need to get over it, it's easier said than done. The good part now is that I can just brush it off and categorize those people into "people I'm NOT going to miss". I'll show them. Muahahaha.

I hate growing up and being adult. I hate having to forgive and forget. Being mature is hard, and I would rather be an immature kid than an immature adult. Growing old should be an option as much as being mature is. I would choose to be young and naive forever.

I wish I were still a child. To have my mom protect me from everything, to be allowed to say what I feel, to not worry about things the way I do. To be allowed to just be mad at people for things they do without having to acknowledge that sometimes I'm wrong in being upset. I would like to be a kid again, please.

And to have a horse, always.

[Title from Tonight by Ne-Yo]

remember the days of sleepless summer nights

I have been home one month and seventeen days.

Which also means I haven't been in Hawaii for one month and eighteen days. I'm mostly okay with it. Mostly. But there are a few things I miss.

Things like going to Turtle Bay to go hot-tubbing and never getting kicked out, not once. Seeing the black ocean in the hotel lights, running barefoot and partially dressed through the condos, running all the way around the hotel and through a wedding out back.

I miss the Asians. There were SO MANY there. And I only know two here.

I miss the asian celebrations in The Caf. I don't miss the Caf food, though.

I miss my roommate very much. How she never slept in her bed, would never wake up to her alarm but always wake up to mine. Having dance parties in our three feet of space to music we both discovered. Her lovely work dress. The way she put up with my side of the room being impossible to walk through, either because it was a mess or because I was perpetually rearranging my furniture.

Yeah, she was a good roommate.


I miss Foodland.

I miss riding my bike over in the sweltering sun, going into the store barefoot and always smelling the green lotion that I never bought. Going there every night with Alyssa, sometimes running to get there before it closed at midnight, typing in my number to get maika'i points. Seeing everyone there--friends, teachers, church people, that place was the spot. Especially the umbrella tables where everyone had Angel's, Subway, Taco Bell or Pizza Hut because those were the only choices.

I miss my job. I miss the foxwood forest and the office and the stinky freezer and the stirrer stick and going into all the forbidden places because no one questioned our authority. I miss the weird men that would ask if we sold plants and the gate that never locked and driving the truck around the neighborhood, taking it to get smoothies and driving past our boss at one of his Tongan parties. I miss going to HRI and talking to Richard and having the other people treat us like dirt and the rude lady with white flies and that one time I accidentally dumped water on her computer and her phone. Oops. And Richard giving us gift certificates and taking us to Turtle Bay for dinner and having Haupia Pies for us. I miss those Haupia pies.

I miss the 'challenging' parts of work. Like scaling a palm tree to take down this dead leaf. Which isn't technically part of our job, but I wanted to take it down and, again, no one questioned our authority.

I miss all the maintenance workers that Alyssa knew and introduced me to. The ones that were probably married with kids but didn't act like it. The one who still lived with his mom and always wanted jackfruit but never ate it.

Sometimes we weren't very good at our job.

But that's because Mele taught us to sleep on the job.

These boys were a great part of the job. Even though they hated me.

I miss the dance studio where I started out being an uncoordinated fool and ended up being a dancer. I miss the long days of rehearsal and how it helped relieve me of all the stresses and worries that were weighing me down. I miss final exam-recitals and how Alyssa brought me flowers.

(She didn't actually bring me these. We found them in the hallway and pretended they were ours.)

Okay so I don't actually miss the no men allowed signs or the alarms set/ side doors locked at ten. I don't miss having to walk all the way around the building just to take our my garbage or get my laundry (provided they hadn't closed the laundry doors because it was eleven), but they certainly are memories of the place.

THE BEACH. Don't tell me I'm in Florida, so it's the same. Because IT IS NOT. I miss the ocean breeze, going there to watch the Sunrise. The waves, the coral, the point, the cliff over pounders, finding crabs on the sand, the cliff jumping, having salty, tangled hair, going to the beach at night when the moon's out, being tan, I miss it.

The culture. The loving, caring people. The PCC. The million different languages. The weird, weird foods.

Being awake ALL NIGHT doing stupid things.

[I shouldn't put this up here...I KNOW my mom is going to use it as blackmail.]

Falling off/hiding under my bed, laughing, crying, feeling on top of the world and feeling extremely opposite. Being confused, being happy and sad at the same time. Ripping up pictures and replacing hurtful memories with better ones. Healing.


I miss this beautiful lady who was there through it all. Who saw the worst and hoped for the best, for herself and for me. Who cried and listened to me cry. Who made things fun by being boring. The complete opposite of me yet exactly the same. I am jealous of the people of Carlsbad, California who get her for the next eighteen months.

And of course, I miss the simple beauty of Hawaii. Walking to campus at sunset, seeing the mist on the mountains, the green, the trees, feeling the breeze, seeing little brown children running around half dressed and seeing polynesians playing rugby. Hawaii is magic.

[Title from I Owe You a Love Song by Shiny Toy Guns]

a world of dreams and reverie

Monday.



Monday used to mean seminary and school. Unfinished homework and regret for not sleeping earlier Sunday night. Taking Sunday naps is always a bad idea, since it leads to not being tired Sunday night. But I love Sunday naps.

Mondays are different now, part of the joy of having few obligations. Mondays are an end to haphazardness, deep cleaning, and instability. Mondays are a clean slate, a fresh start. Mondays are the beginning, a start to making this week productive, this day constructive.

It starts with a clean house, with kids up early and dressed and fed and rushed to school. With driving, getting groceries, baking for our Hawaiian dinner party tonight. Loud music and cold AC and empty rooms.

Taking kids to seminary, high school, elementary school, middle school. Going to Wal-Mart, Target, American Eagle, the bank, this little car is becoming my best friend.


There's not much time. Mornings fly by to turn into long, busy afternoons. It won't be long before the house is loud and bustling, with homework and piano practice and hungry kids and children wanting to go to the park, the library, the pool. It won't be long before the cool and clean house turns into a warm concoction of children, toys, and energy. When all my energy dissipates and the younger, less tired ones take over. When all I can do is lay on the carpet and watch their feet and their interactions. Listen to their noises, their stories of the day, their TV shows, their worries. Watch my house become destroyed by the tornado that is my siblings.



But I love that just as much.

[Title from Strawberry Avalanche by Owl City]

someplace where we can breathe

one time i went kayaking. and it felt like a dream.

it started at noon with a scenic tour of miami from the passenger seat of an air conditioned car.

[this picture doesn't do the city justice. but i forget to take good pictures these days.]

the winding roads dumped us outside the city on a lake near the ocean. we walked barefoot burning our feet to get the kayaks.

we drug our kayaks in, paddled past mangroves and under foresty things, thinking it was freshwater til the salt hit my face.



We went under bridges, around bends (pocahantas!) seeing nothing but trees and barnacles and discarded shoes.


Then we turned the final corner and we were in the ocean. Right in the middle. Sitting in our tiny kayaks being bullied by big boats with people fishing and people dining and people drinking and people tanning.



We dodged speedboats and fishing boats and pelicans swooping down for their lunch. We pulled ourselves across the choppy blue water feeling the water and the sun working together to tire us out. I saw a fish and told the story of how it was "thiiiiis big", only this time I told it without exaggeration.

We kayaked forever until we reached the island. We drank ice water and looked at Miami.


The expedition back was three times harder. The ocean was endless, the short stretch had multipled. It was punishment--I shouldn't have said aloud how easy the first leg of the journey was. The wind and waves against us, any break from paddling set us back several feet. I sang sherwood and stayed at least ten feet ahead of him.

We made it back alive.




i don't know how i'm going to live without the ocean.

[Title from What Are You Waiting For? by Sherwood]

imprint on my mind

I went to Key Biscane with the Young Ambassadors, who are as dramatic on stage as they are in real life.

It was beautiful and sunny and I got a nice tan...or at least I'll have a tan when my burn fades.

It was beautiful. It was one of those days that I'll revisit a million times in head. One of those days where everything moves so slow and calm and peaceful that all you can do is take mental snapshots of the gloriousness of it all. Specific images and feelings.

Sitting on top of the world listening to satellite radio. Crossing the steel bridges and seeing the landscape-- a patchwork of buildings stacked up against a blanket of cool blue water.

Sinking my feet into the blistering heat of the sand, only finding relief with them buried three inches deep.

My skin turning red early from the sting of a sand-covered volleyball and then the intensity of the relentless sun as the day progressed.

Laying in the shallow water touching the rocks illegally and staring at the lighthouse, picking up shells and beer bottle caps, make them something to put on your middle school backpack

The people posed like statues on the boat shooting through the water to the invisible island to play golf, one went back to change. The weird dragon moat and incorporating dance moves into football tosses.

The shade of the trees, the relief from the heat. The well worn wooden picnic bench that's resilient against plastic knives. Picking pig skin out of my rice while listening to the South African girl use a fake accent.

Things that will only mean something to me, but they'll mean something forever.

Being DJ on the way home--as always. Seeing the football team practicing at Plantation and being confused because today should have been a saturday, it felt like a saturday. But it was Thursday.

The post-beach feeling--cool relief on my sun-kissed arms covered in dried salt water. Eating warm juicy strawberries and staining my hands, licking my fingers tasting the sweetness of the strawberries and the salt on my lips.

it was a glorious day. i love sun.



The missionaries cancelled, or rather postponed til Saturday. I forgave them.

[Title from Sunburn by Owl City]

light starts in a dark place

The grown up party was Sunday.

It was awkward because I am awkward, so I sat in the back playing uno, while simultaneously being overwhelmed by the lovely people there and the lovely things they've done for my little family.


People drove from Hollywood and Miami just to be here to support us.


Not that my mother isn't worth any amount of driving...

I managed to rope a few of the younger old people into playing cards with me in the kitchen.


[Note to self: I am eternally indebted to Kellie for running out to my car in the middle of sacrament to get my talk which I intentionally accidentally left in the car.]

I wasn't exactly prepared for the party. I showed up and hijacked the children's bathroom to finish getting ready, showing Jim what it would be like when his daughter grows up. I flounced out of the bathroom and sat on the couch to listen to Deidra talk about sloppy drunks on cruises. I'm envious of her ability to turn the most everyday situation into comical sketches. I envy her humor and her quick wit. Guests start arriving and we all pretend to be normal. I don't eat the peanut and cranberry mixture, but I make up for it by helping Princesse finish all the mangoes.

I love them, even when they have the nerve to criticize my Hawaiian pictures with their Portuguese accents.

I really, really liked Lori's shoes. And I enjoy her sarcasm and dry humor. I need to get me some of that.

And her face is nice too. I like her hair and the way she'll be pretty forever and how she's the best singer and her blue rings.



This family is brave and kind. Brave because they hosted the kid party (30 or 40 kids under the age of 18) and kind for everything else they've done. Which has been a lot--more than we could ever ask for.

And then there's Jim and Deidra, pictured here making their "Mormon" faces.

The party, the milk, the cable, the spare bedroom, the children, the pool, the egg rolls, I could go on of all the ways they have saved my life. I aspire to be at least half of what they are.




And then there's Grandma Judy. One conversation will have you hooked. She's hip, she's smart, and she doesn't play board games.

The missionaries make their appearance about half an hour after the party ended and they collect leftovers. I suppose I could say "better late than never", but I prefer all's well that ends well. And it did end well.



[Title from Brink of Disaster by Mae]