Alluding to Field of Dreams there, if that wasn’t already obvious.
I actually meant to write this post before my trip to Hawaii, but didn’t have enough time, and this post definitely would have been more timely if I had.
So, maybe because I’m a writer, I believe in the power of written words, but not necessarily in the typical way, like that people can read something and be affected by it. Yeah, that’s a huge thing, but I also think there’s a much more invisible power, something ethereal and unseen, subtle.
So here is my totally unconventional Hawaiian vacation. I’m calling it that b/c when I think of Hawaiian vacations I think of big resorts or scenes from MTV’s Maui Fever, and thankfully, this was nothing like that.
Tallie and I left the island super early last Wednesday morning and talked the whole ferry ride and the whole drive down to the Seattle airport. We’d both had kind of shitty/crazy weeks, so we got it all out of our systems as much as possible. We flew to Oakland first, which surprisingly wasn’t that warm. Then we flew to Lihue. An eclipse took place when we were on the plane and so I didn’t see it at all.
A few winters ago, I lived with my friend Tracy in a house at camp, and I’ve probably written about this winter before, and I’m sure I will write about it a million more times because I was so freakin’ happy that winter.
The house at camp where I lived (called The Dispensary because in the summer, the medical staff lived there) looked like a cabin, with wood walls and this real “old” feeling to it, like living there was actually a time warp, in a nice way, back to something ancient, even though we did have modern conveniences there. I also loved the lights, they had a soft glow that on the wood walls just somehow reminded me of something primal. It actually had a feel that brought to mind my grandmother’s house, probably the only other house I’ve loved as much as I love the Dispensary. Something about that house was just like IV nutrition for my soul.
Note: Another old post (Feb ’08) from my old blog. Still importing like crazy, yo!
On Monday, I turned 27, that enigmatic rock star age, which somehow feels a lot older than 26, but not in a bad way. I was sort of always eager to grow up in some ways, I think because I always felt like I was treated as soooo much younger at home that it just felt so incredibly claustrophobic. Even just thinking about it and remembering is making me tense up, like that feeling of claustrophobia is still stored in muscle memory.
I don’t know if it’s because of my albinism – perhaps paleness makes people think of innocence – or because of my disability, or because I sometimes have trouble standing up for myself, but for whatever reason, I get that a lot.