I don't know no town, like the old town

Waikoloa, It means wet duck. That's the direct translation of the Hawaiian word Waikoloa into English. I grew up in this village in the middle of lava fields. There's one road in and one road out. The older I got the more often I'd heard of an evacuation route being planned, but in the 17 years I was there the one road sufficed.

To the Mauka (mountain) was my tiny school, which was actually a barn. And to the Makai (ocean) there was camping, palm trees and crystal clear water as far as the eye can see. We didn't climb mountains or hike trails to find the secret spots, we rambled over lava fields and set up blankets underneath the stars, falling asleep to the waves.

Every road is only one lane each way. One road outlines the entire island's perimeter . 9 hours. I only drove it once.

Quietly the hotels land plots expanded and the tour buses joined the lifted trucks at the once isolated "cruz" spots. There were still a few left when I left it all behind. I like to think that they are each still there, preserved as if time stopped when I let it go.

I live with the picture perfect images in my mind, and surround myself with the perfection of each sunset I was lucky enough to capture. I'm certain I'll return, yet it'll be with a timid and reserved mind. I'll cry for what's different, because nothing will be the same. Changes to the 'Aina (land) I didn't get to witness. And the changes in me, all the ones the 'Aina didn't get to see.

Don't take for granted the blessing of driving past your old house and old elementary school. Embrace seeing someone in the dairy aisle of your hometown grocery store, and think of me the next time you wish you would have left. No, I don't regret one minute of it. The leaving and moving on. But for now memories I have are the only ones I get to make.

:: "Picture postcard memories, Well they always make for good company." ::

The process of Aging

I skipped a grade. 7th to be exact. Therefor I was in that moment given the clear and sufficient title of ALWAYS being the baby of the group. I was the last to drive, and actually the last one allowed to even leave the darn driveway! Here I am 20 years old and I'll be the last one to turn 21, as a SENIOR in college. *Woah, thats really weird to say.

Honestly there were only a few incidents when this even remotely mattered, but for this Blogs purpose I never ever felt like an older kid til I was out on the pool deck the other day. Now keep in mind, I've officially decided that I cannot judge kids ages in the range between 12 and 17. I can't do it. I dunno if the hormones in the Mcdonalds they're eating but some 12 year olds look 20 and other 17 year olds look 11! I've given up guessing... But at this point on the pool deck I've decided this girl is 17 potentially 18. Shes trying to figure out what year anyone using the sauna needs to be born before. Then she makes the bold statement

"Well I was born in 95' so.." I don't hear the rest of the sentence. I interrupt her and say WHAT? You're born in 95', so you're 15?! I'm working at an establishment with a 15 year old. She's not old enough to drive herself to work, what made anyone think she'd be able to save someone's life. But this is besides the point.

In the next 5 minutes I am then told that I AM OLD! Old, little freckled still wears her hair in pigtails and can pass as a 13 year old ME! Not only am I deemed old by these kids, I am one of the 2 OLDEST members here.

I suppose it was bound to happen sometime in my life. People do keep popping out babies even though it's quite obvious that after 1990 there was really no reason, since I was already here. I guess I just didn't except it to happen so quickly. I'll be glad when I'm back at my little college griping about how I still have 6 more months before I can buy alcohol. I never really appreciated being the "baby" til I was no longer deemed that title.

Miscellaneous Monday

I saw a bit of at intriguing trend going on with a few other blogs and decided to try it. They used a random Monday to disclose random facts about themselves... I'll give it a shot but I'm not promising anything

{1} I have a dog. Her name is Bella, TinkerBella Okay now before you judge this statement, I have been highly criticized by many people for not speaking of her often so I thought I could take this moment and give her the spotlight. She's got four legs, spots and a perfect personality. She was everything I asked for and more. She was also a sweet taste of parenthood. But more importantly the first dog I ever owned in my whole life. You cannot become a real live grown up without first owning a puppy. I'm living proof of this fact.

{2} I have recently accepted the fact that I could in-fact be an extravert in the business world, and an introvert when it comes to most social functions. For the first time in my life I was defined as shy and while it shook me it also made me think about what I actually enjoy doing within social groups and it tends to be on the smaller size or in some cases all alone. Can I please express what a strange revolution this was?

{3} If I could live off of Dunkin Doughnuts iced coffee sugar and cream and blueberry or bran muffins I would. Throw in Ham and Cheese biscuits from McDonalds and some coke a cola my life would end artery clogged and smiling. But for whatever reason it is, I was blessed with a fair amount of self control and most days I hit the gym instead of the Big DD, but know that a definite fat kid lives inside me. Not even that far under the surface, I swear.

{4} I can't decide if I want people to read what I write or not. I figured blogger was a good way to test it out. What's the likely hood of random people reading this? Yet I have subtly given all my friends and family access as if my tiny sub-conscience is screaming come read the babble I post in my blog and find meaning! Strange, but miscellaneous.

{5} I have a hard time reflecting emotion in the everyday average situation. But give me a good novel, or chick flick with a couple falling in love and I'm fully equipped with tears and goose-bumps. Maybe it's something about the swelling moments that get built up therefore giving me time to categorize and organize my emotions. Real life comes at me so fast sometimes I think I simply leave my game face on and forget to replace it with my impressed one when someone does something amazing for me.

{6} I've been taught that you treat others how you would like to be treated. I like expressing myself in notes, small ones scribble on a mirror or long ones delievered via snail mail. That is how I want the love to be reciprocated. My mother wrote me a note and stuck it in my brown paper bag lunch box til I was a senior in high school. I'm fully confident that if she still lived close enough and I still carried a lunch box to class she would continue this tradition. Perhaps this is when this strange affiliation for paper notes began.

{7} Sheets. Some people change them once every two weeks. Ask anyone who knows me and they'll admit that I'm a bit psycho when it comes to them. I change them at least once a week if not more often. Sometimes it can be 10pm at night, but once I've got it in my mind I need new ones there is no going back. I fret about who's been near or in the sheets and what's touched them. I'd preferably like to see someone administering the clean sheets to the bed before I stay in a different one beside my own. There is nothing better then crawling into clean sheets with wet hair from the shower and falling asleep. It's a personal preference, don't worry I get that.

I'll leave it with that. After all 7's a great number.

The "what did you say?" Phenomenon

You knew this was coming kid...

I wish that I could say I didn't fall victicm to the almost instant saying of "what?" when someone states a sentence that you didn't quite catch. The best part of this phenomenon is that the moment they go to repeat themselves, somehow your mind has had enough time to process and you now not only know what they said but you have an answer.

Somedays I tell myself people only do this when I'm saying things that don't particularly like. "Wait, you told me you'd fix the car?" "What did you say?" Sometimes I swear people will add a few extra inches between you as if I wasn't speaking loudly enough.

The days when I fall victim to it, I typically blame it on mumbling, the individuals word choice or pronunciation...basically anything but faulty hearing. " You definitely used the word quality wrong!"

Maybe it's because we are so use to instant gratification, but the track that runs our hearing to our minds hasn't quite caught up yet. It seems to take just a few extra seconds to process what's being said, but instead of waiting those seconds we simply throw in an extra what did you say?

The process of quietly revising...

Yup, once I finally acquire the patience and actually have the time to spend shaving my legs I realize that it was fairly quick and painless and I solemnly vow to do it much more often. Yet the next time I go to wear a skirt I'm reminded oops haven't shaved. Oh well I'll keep making the vow....

I also started eating no desserts this week and well I made it a whole week, but heres the weekend. A glorious Friday afternoon, and upon deciding to bake my boyfriends favorite dessert funnybone cake (chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting) I realize that I will have to edit my dessert claus and add in the part about eating some dessert on the weekends.

When the summer first began I had huge plans to cook 3 times a week to get my feet wet and not be so nervous in the kitchen. I'd say that while my nerve level has decreased, I definitely had to reduce the cooking rate to maybe once a week sometimes I don't even get the chance. Why does it seem many of my rules revolve around food?

Sometimes you have to set some sort of boundary or rule with the hopes that just one time you will follow it.

Life's all about editing right?

Poo-lates

Yup thats right, today I broke down and went all organic. Well okay, so it wasn't all organic but it was a big step for me. I'm a cardio loving, running, sprinting, swimming, lifting weights kinda girl. But I was thinking that since the ultimate goal is to not only tone but lengthen my muscles, (especially in the leg region) I would try pilates. Hence the title poolates.

Lets just say first off I made the mistake of telling the instructor I was nervous for the class. She then proceeds to introduce me to the 7 old ladies who are 'regulars' and I'm left smiling and turning a putrid shade of red. Once the initial embarrassment is over I take my seat or shall I say position and the class begins. Now the class itself wasn't too bad. I can't usually take yoga seriously but this was quick movements and I could feel my core working. I'm debating going back next week but I'm just not sure it's for me.

At the end of the 45 minutes the instructor of course notified that class that I had been worried and I heard a few chuckles running through the run. Cut out the entering and exiting on embarrassing notes and the class was all-right.

I was a bit bummed that I didn't work out before hand because afterwards I definitely felt like I could keep going. On a happier note the quest to avoid dessert went well today and I snacked on graham crackers with soy milk.

The image I posted with this seems very Zen like. It's from when I was in the Bahamas with the boyfriend. Oom.

I'll do better tomorrow

When my alarm went off for me to arise and head to the gym to run and lift before I started my long day, I cursed the drive that comes from within to workout! After throughly sweating through my tank top and capri pants, I began the real work day in the pool and as usual I finished there as well.

I'm on a new kick to avoid desserts like they are the plague. I feel like in the last 6 months I don't only eat them when I crave them, I actually don't even give myself the chance to crave them instead I eat them after most lunches and dinners. Now this ties into the fact that I do work out everyday, so really how much can two cookies really hurt? But it's more of the fact that I want to see if I have the will and all that good stuff to just stay away from them...Like the title said, maybe I'll do better tomorrow because today the cookies Mom baked looked so tempting that I had to eat just half of one. Oh well... at least I was acting on a craving!

Sometimes I find myself wondering if the 8 dollars an hour I make working is worth the stress of not getting all the things I WANT to do done. I need to work on grad school applications, my senior year is looming ahead, and honestly I have crafts up the wazoo to finish for my sorority. It's hard because the pull of making an extra twenty dollars is appealing but at the same time, when is it enough and is there really a price for my time?

I've got so much buzzing through my mind and I can't belive that it's already about to be August. My parents have decided if the Inn doesn't sell they will foreclose it in Decemeber. As excited as I am to get away from this money trap we call our home, it's so difficult to watch my mom struggle with letting her dream go.

I leave with bittersweet thoughts for a sweeter tomorrow.

It's Been Wicked Awesome

I came to New England mainly to see my sister and best friend, but somehow stumbled upon a clarity of vision for the life I left behind. Perhaps it had something to do with the tiny plane I arrived in, or the turbulence which leaves me praying to a God, whom I'm quite sure was laughing at me.

Once safely landed in Boston I realized the cut off shorts that had replaced my grungy yoga pants no longer symbolized a southern girl in the summer, but instead a strange form of jersey shore trash. With a Dunkin' cup covered in red sox fanfare in hand I stepped into the big city and into the arms of Tam.

Navigation has always been a stronger aspect of my personality, and here in Boston and New Hampshire I think it's come more in handy than ever. From driving around in desperation for a set of luggage with anchors on it, to simply realizing that Fenway Park is not freaken located on Fenway street, I became more and more grateful for my fathers sense of direction.

I feel lucky to have met a sisters family and gotten to see a glimpse into what her daily life is outside of the Wingato bubble I sometimes forget that we all don't live in when we get back to where we were made. The interactions between mother and daughter have always fascinated me and this was no exception. The thin line between friend and mother is definitely dashed and constantly being stretched and shorten as parents try to find that balance. It scares me that I won't be able to get the job done as my mother has done with me. But no matter that style that goes into it, I suppose love has to count for something.

I don't know if I'm ready to go back to the 12 hour work days, but I think my time here has come to a closing. I'll hold my breath for the standby flight and hope that I'm not left to post about my airport realizations because I'm quite sure they won't be as meaningful as my sweet nothingness that have come from this vacation.