✍ CURRENTLY WRITING FROM: MAUI, HAWAII
I’m being faced with the dilemma of not knowing how to start this paragraph? Usually I find a suitable way to come across as both not-trying-to-funny-but-look-at-my-humor and I-don’t-take-myself-seriously-but-I-think-I’m-fairly-smart to appeal enough to you, but the entire month of June has been a month of things being revealed to me, and I’m fighting so many internal debates on what to reveal and how to express things and whether or not I should stop trying to say anything anymore—but then I remember this is the internet and I laugh.
But nonetheless, even if this is the internet, I am trying to take my writing and what I’m trying to tell you today seriously, so we’ll just accept that ridiculous first paragraph as an appropriate introduction to… this.
I had the lovely opportunity to visit Maui for ten days, and even though I didn’t discover many things about myself on this trip as much as finding new things that please my aesthetics, I did think about who I want to be in the future—whether this says something about who I am right now I guess would be up to you.
I did take over 900 pictures the entire trip (my memory card is obviously made out of gold) and I didn’t feel like slowing down your computer to the point where it only scrolls down an inch every two minutes, so I wanted to spread the stories (I cannot believe how eventful the entire trip was!) and pictures into separate posts. Non-spammy or repetitive, I promise.
This was my third time ever going over water in an airplane, but I was still the most nervous I had ever been. I was especially nervous as we ascended and we flew over the clouds and farther up we went. But then my sister got sleepy and I was saved the queasy feeling after she shut the window.
My sister and I sat in the last row, with my parents somewhere else in the plane, something that had never happened to either of us before—but we were so happy for our seating arrangement, because the last seat on our row was occupied by a lovely young woman who had positively the most adorable laugh and struck up a conversation with the young man in the row across from her. My sister and I listened in as they kept joking with each other and talking about how she loved San Diego and how he loved his stay and how she was surprised, didn’t he live there? and how no, he was from Maui, he was just visiting, and how she was visiting Maui, actually, and how she might need a tour guide.
Sabrina and I simply could not contain ourselves, and when we got off the plane, the only thing we did until we finally got out of the airport was brag about how we totally made that romance happen. We saw them still talking at the baggage claim, and we kept pinching each other for good luck, but then we had to leave and I sent good luck waves their way.
When I was in first grade I read a book from the Junie B. Jones: First Grader series titled Aloha-ha-ha! and I don’t remember which island she went to, but she got received at the airport (or was it the hotel?) with a cool lei and I didn’t get offered any leis, so obviously my trip was ruined.
What I did see a lot of was couples. With cute little backpacks and bandanas and maps and glasses and dorky running shoes. And it made my heart hurt and long for the future.
It was weird, June. I was excited for the future way more than I ever have been. I liked it.
That was one of my “discoveries”, if you will. I decided once I graduated college, I was going to be a traveler, among my many other professions I intend to take on.
I read an incredible quote by writer Nick Miller, from his book Isn’t it Pretty to Think So?:
“Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow Internet connections. Travel is extraordinary conversations with ordinary people. It’s waiters, gas station attendants, and housekeepers becoming the most interesting people in the world. It’s churches that are compelling enough to enter. It’s McDonald’s being a luxury. It’s the realization that you may have been born in the wrong country. Travel is a smile that leads to a conversation in broken English. It’s the epiphany that pretty girls smile the same way all over the world. Travel is tipping 10% and being embraced for it. Travel is the same white T-shirt again tomorrow. Travel is accented sex after good wine and too many unfiltered cigarettes. Travel is flowing in the back of a bus with giggly strangers. It’s a street full of bearded backpackers looking down at maps. Travel is wishing for one more bite of whatever that just was. It’s the rediscovery of walking somewhere. It’s sharing a bottle of liquor on an overnight train with a new friend. Travel is “Maybe I don’t have to do it that way when I get back home.” It’s nostalgia for studying abroad that one semester. Travel is realizing that “age thirty” should be shed of its goddamn stigma.”
Through this trip, I also found out how important working and discipline is. I hated myself the first half of June because of yet another one of my discoveries, but throughout my month I also learned not to hate myself for my mistakes and take the initiative to find a way to fix them. The thing is, I took too many things for granted. I took my education for granted, I took the blessings I’ve been given for granted, and I took my relationships for granted.
I had a terrible idea over what hard work signified. My mother is an incredibly hard-working person, and I, of course, took this for granted as well. I remember one time, after I got bored with mindlessly wasting hours on the internet looking at pointless garbage, I went downstairs and found her sitting,quietly and alone, at the kitchen table. It pained me to see her sitting by herself, and I naively asked her if she was happy, working so much to simply sat at home on an afternoon, staring.
She told me she was so happy.
I didn’t understand. She never went out with friends (which wasn’t a point I brought up—like her, I don’t jump at the opportunity to go out with friends), she didn’t attempt to occupy her time with television, and she didn’t even like baking, for God’s sake. I did not want to do that when I grew up, so how could she be “happy”?
I’ll elaborate soon enough. I feel like it’s too much of some sort of nebula explosion inside of my brain to condense into tiny paragraphs under pictures of the sky, so I’ll find the appropriate words.
Phew. It was nice to type up a blog post again.