one woman's quest to live the life she's imagined all while daring you to do the same

Peace Out Oahu: It’s been real

diamond head beach, oahu

I have left the island many times with the hope to recreate even just a little when I get home. I listen to Island Rhythm Radio on Pandora; I eat out of bowls made of coconut shells; I say things like “shootz” and “how’s it?” hoping it will catch on; I run around half nude everywhere, bikini or bust! I wear slippahs (not flip-flops) till it snows, board shorts around town, and throw shakas at every car I cut off as if it suffices as a proper apology.

Unfortunately, given all that effort, it simply doesn’t work. The island music fades after a day or two, the lingo gets lost, the coconut theme gets cheesy, the bikini tan becomes a sports bra tan, and nobody gives a fuck about the shakas.

The board shorts and slippahs are the only lasting effect, which in New York screams poser more than Aloha, but what can you do? That’s my jam.

No matter how many seashell lamps I buy (none yet, but I’ve thought about it), Lost paraphernalia, or everlasting leis, nothing can capture the essence of what these islands are to me, or those who know them.

My ohana here is just considered family back home, and thank goodness for FB where I can hate on them for each and every post until I arrive again.

There are signs at almost every beach/park: Take only pictures, leave only footprints. Locals are very connected to the islands’ spiritual energy and believe it should be preserved just as it was found, as nature intended it.

To save myself the awkward transition, I’m following that same logic: the pictures and the footprints part. There will be no grasping when I get back home for anything aloha, but acai bowls, which ironically taste like crap without the tender pluckings of ukuleles on the breeze. It’s just not the same; besides, I’m not allowed to put that much honey on anything at home!

We look forward to our home, ending the hate-threats from jealous friends and family;), and our routine. If I could move all that out here, I might never leave.

We’ll see you in San Fran perhaps before our final destination NYC.

I leave you with this: Ever not trust your mind to hold the memory of a place? We grasp for cameras, witnesses, social media stamps in time. What might you be able to hold, just you, to treasure? Think we can get back to doing more of that? I’d like to try. You in?


Much Aloha,


*I’ve never seen Lost.

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