Bump in the Night

I almost forgot I had a blog. It's kind of exciting to be writing this after so much time. I can't promise anything though, so this will probably be the last one again for a while. I just can't seem to keep it up all the time like in the beginning. I'll have to make up for the infrequency of my posts by making each one really entertaining. 

So. I'm back at school and am happily carrying on with my bad habits of procrastination and laziness that I developed and nurtured while in Hawaii. I have been supplementing my homework and course load with a healthy amount of party going, movie watching, boyfriend texting, and sugar consuming. I have also gone to the gym (once) (yesterday) and now my body feels like it has been steam rolled. I used that foul machine that you sit on and then press between your thighs. I did not know those muscles could hurt. I can't walk up stairs like a normal person anymore. I am also taking spring board diving which I suck at. I was so sure that I would be good at it. I mean, I am a good swimmer and I don't have a problem with heights, but apparently you need to be freakishly bendy and able to touch your chest to your thighs. HA! I have way too much stuff in the middle to do that. I also have this bad habit of falling off the board instead of jumping up. I keep telling him I'm front heavy and I can't help it, but I don't think he buys it. Oh well. The other day, I climbed out of the pool after a dive and he said "Next time do a front flip." *!* So I did. I landed in the water on my back about 5 times in a row. I have bruises. Yah.
I have also been having weird sleep issues. The best one happened a few nights ago. I woke up with a start at around 2 in the morning with the driving certainty that I had to get up RIGHT THEN. Of course, I was still half asleep, so when I launched myself out of my bed in the pitch black, I simply toppled over and slid down the side of my bed. I crashed to the floor, which woke up my roommate who asked sleepily if I had fallen out of bed to which I replied that I wasn't sure. I then climbed back into bed and went immediately back to sleep. By morning I had completely forgotten until I went to put on my pants and felt a wound. I now have a scrape that bisects my left butt cheek. What the hell. It also has a bruise. Guess I hit something on the way down. The last few nights have been remarkably injury free.

The Phone Saga

It is a well known fact that although attentive in my relationships to other human beings, animals, and growing things, my attention to my own material objects, especially in regards to their whereabouts and well being, is occasionally a tad lax. Jewelry mysteriously vanishes, my keys jump ship, and my cell phones, well, they have had (collectively) a rough life. I have had five phones, which in this day and age is reasonable, but I have not had the four new phones simply out of a desire to own the latest technological gadget. My phones are always the cheapest thing in the Verizon store, and really, all I want them to do is text and call people. Who really needs internet access and a video camera in their pocket? My first phone was innocently in my purse when I dropped said bag into Lake Whinnipesaukee in New Hampshire while in the process of stepping from a dock into a motor boat. For a while, we thought it would revive itself, and it did seem fine, but then it mysteriously stopped allowing my voice to be heard. I could hear whoever was on the other end, but they couldn't hear me. Phone number two was in the same long-strapped purse when is was sadly pulverized as I shut my swinging bag in the passenger side car door. Number three was perhaps the most traumatic experience. I shut it in a front loading washer at Smith and noticed that it was gone a few minutes later. I sat forlornly in front of the washer for an hour watching it go round through the super spin cycle and the heavy duty pulse, etc. Even its long rehab in a bowl of rice to soak up the moisture did not cure it of its ills. You would think that after washing it once I would have been more careful, but no, last week I washed it yet again. Luckily I had a back up which I then submerged in a pool while diving in with all my clothes on. I'm getting a new one tomorrow. We'll see how long it lasts.

Home Again Home Again

Here I am, happily home in the beautiful cold rain of Vermont. The best things that have happened so far are the night spent in my own bed, the rainy day spent wearing my high heeled cow boy rain boots with the skulls and roses on them, and the piece of sharp cheddar I have just consumed and can still feel burning a delicious hole through my tongue. And of course, the Circus Boy I am currently drinking. I love my state.

P Is For Procrastination and Pie

Wow I miss this. It has been so long and my fingers are so rusty. It's such a different feeling writing this than it is writing a paper (the really shitty Native American history paper I turned in last week for example) and my brain doesn't remember how to write fun stuff as opposed to thesisy stuff. That is so not a word. Ah well, I must be getting back in the mood. Either that or the article I'm supposed to be reading right now has finally driven me insane and I'm spewing nonsense. Also, it's a beautiful 73 degrees and sunny outside, which makes reading even harder. You'd think I'd have more motivation to finish my homework given the fact that when I'm done I'll be calling my boyfriend and having a lovely evening. The faster I finish, the sooner I get to go out. Come on Sarah, hop to!!!

Here is a list of the sites I have visited in the last 2 hours while intermittently reading a sentence or two of this stupid article on truth commissions. The Kristen Cashore blog "This is My Secret" which you should all visit because she is a fantastically funny writer. She has written two of the most beautiful young adult novels I have ever read and is currently writing another. From her site I followed a link to here http://www.harkavagrant.com/index.php?id=202 which entertained me for a good 20 minutes. Then I thought, "oh, mom will think this is funny," so I posted it on her facebook, and then, well, I was on facebook... Then I bumped my burn (glass blowing has been rough lately) and this was followed by a long and truly disgusting search on the internet of second degree burns. NEVER look this up online. It is gross. If I were one to ever be put off food, which I am most definitely not, these images would have done so.

Then I realized that even if I did want to leave my house later, I couldn't because I had no clean clothes. Of course, this led to laundry, which I am still waiting for. Finally, I talked to Rachel on skype, which reminded me that I hadn't blogged in ages and now here I am. Well, there goes another 12 minutes of my life. I really am going to go read that thing now.

I really want pie. Maybe I'll make a pie.

Tsunami Bust/Karaoke Plus!

So basically, the tsunami was a bust, which I guess is a good thing. I'm not sure about Hilo on the big island, but absolutely nothing happened on Oahu. In fact, it was a really nice day. The weather reports had all of these hand held cameras which made the coverage look really gnarly and sinister, when actually, it was one of the sunniest and hottest days we've had in weeks. Ah well. On the bright side, they reopened the glass studio and I was able to finish my project. It isn't exactly my most inspired piece of art and I don't expect a stellar grade, but frankly, I'm simply amazed that I have anything to show at all. They also opened the dining halls, but unfortunately, the caffeine came too late in the day and I got a head ache anyway.
All was well in the evening, however, because we went for my first time of Karaoke. It was most definitely an experience. I believe the best moment of the evening would have to be a tie between Bohemian Rhapsody and Those Summer Nights.  Both were rousing renditions sung with great gusto and bravado all round. It all ended around three am at which point I somehow managed to remove my clothes, brush my teeth, and miraculously climb into bed. Much as I am about to do right now. Night night.

Don't Flip Out

This morning, I heard as though from the bottom of a well filled with pudding, a dull wailing sound. It was 7 o'clock and I had promised myself that I would make it until at least 11 to try and catch up on the sleep I have most definitely NOT been getting, but apparently, the universe had other things in store. Then, on top of the wailing, a rapid pounding interrupted my blissful snoozing, and in the throws of sleepy confusion, I leapt from my bed, completely convinced that my mother was knocking on my door. I then felt extremely stupid and was climbing back into bed when someone definitely DID knock on my door. It was my friend Seiko with the glorious news that a tsunami was coming and that the wailing noise was the warning bell. Now, just to illustrate to you how backwards, upside-down, and sideways my priorities are right now, my first thought was, "Holy shit, my glass project is due on Monday! What if I can't get into the studio to work on it!?" followed by, "If the campus is closed, how will I get brunch!?" Then, while everyone else started running around (hemhem, my hysterical and high-pitched room mate) I though to myself, "Self, how will it better you to run around?" The answer was clearly that it would not benefit me in any way. Also, Seiko had already gone to get food and water, and panic is really unnecessary when you have absolutely no control over whether or not a nine foot wave hits Waikiki. So, in the spirit of the occasion, I decided to go back to sleep. This would have worked out perfectly if people hadn't kept calling me. First was my boyfriend calling (very sweetly and considerately) to tell me not to flip out (which as described earlier, I had already decided not to do). Then was my glass blowing partner wanting to know if the studio was closed. And finally, my glass instructor informing me that the studio would be opening late. Then there was the knocking. First was the tsunami is coming knock, then the do you want food knock, then the we are going to get food knock, and finally, the we have food knock. Needless to say, I did not go back to sleep, and now here I am writing this. I am so tired. About 2 hours till the collision. I'll keep you posted. Don't flip out.

Fril?: A Taste of True Dorm Life And A Touch Of Bad Haole Pidgin

So, I have basically told you all nothing of Hawai‘i and university culture. Here it is. We'll start with university life. Until this point, I have had exactly one encounter with a coed college environment, which since is was at Connecticut college, essentially does not count. I went to visit dear Teddy Fisher last year and awoke in the morning to find nasty things in the hallways, the bathroom door off its hinges, and pyramids of empty beer cans. This is not to say that I didn't have a great time, but I was very glad to get back to my clean, sweet-smelling, fully intact, and girl dominated Smith heaven. Needless to say, the university of Hawaii is rather large and boy infested, and while I have encountered no true nastiness, there has been some very unSmith-like behavior on Friday and Saturday nights. For example, the other day (which come to think of it was actually a Tuesday) I got up to pee at 4 in the morning and was slightly horrified and amused to find my RA spread-eagled and snoring in the middle of the bathroom floor. Then there's the fish tank filled with cool-aid and dead fish that mysteriously appeared across the hall last weekend, and of course the fist punch mark on one of the doors on the boy's floor. Apparently, the noise the door made when it hit knuckle was fairly impressive, but somehow, I managed to sleep through the whole thing. On the whole, the big university thing isn't as weird as I though it would be and I am really starting to enjoy myself. It's strange how many people there are though. At Smith, I can go a whole day and never see someone I don't recognize. Of course, when I go back, there will be two years of new people that I don't know. Here, I can go a whole day and never see a familiar face. This is getting to be less true because I spend about 7 hours a day in the art building which narrows the number of people I see on a regular basis.
As for local culture, this state has only been a state for 50 years, and as such, it is really unlike anywhere else on earth. People have their own ways of doing and saying things, and they expect you to catch on. Even once you do these things, however, they only mock you for being a dumb haole (white), a crime I am, despite going to the beach, incredibly guilty of. Locals greet each other with a waggling hand gesture resembling the sign language for love, but with more loosely curled middle fingers, which on a tanned guy riding a skate board looks very cool, but on me looks very white. Same goes for if I drop a casual "Howzit?" (How is it going?) or the ever present, "Fril?" (For real?). All of these phrases, interjected not with "like" but with "yah" are the standards that make up the basics of daily Pidgin english. Listening to a true local speak Pidgin, however, is almost completely incomprehensible, as while some parts are understandable, the general rise and fall of the words corresponds to the Hawaiian language, and not to english. I would try to demonstrate further, but that would just put me higher on the haole girl step ladder. It's an interesting experience being a minority. My Hawaiian Lit. professor divided my class of 40 into two groups for a dramatic reading of a story, and based the division off of whether or not we could speak Pidgin. It was about 4 other white girls and me facing about 35 big, dark guys with native tattoos. It was quite a sight I'm sure.
Anyway, that's my spiel on native culture, which I'm sure to any local seems like butchery, but really, it's a lot to learn, especially for a haole girl from the whitest state in the US.

And A Very Merry Unvalentine's To You

Today, on this most fantastic of days, I went hiking (with my boyfriend (ooooh that was the first time I've written that and it was kind of exciting just now)). I know. It's crazy. But then we went to the beach which was lovely and, well, lovely. We walked up this really beautiful rocky slope called Mariner's Ridge and than sat at the top and looked down into the valley. The crazy thing about Hawai‘i is that everything is so extreme. The mountains are tiny, but really pointy, and they come steeply down into these deep valleys. It's cool because you can see everything from everywhere and you're constantly aware that you're in this small space. In Vermont, you know you're in a bowl, but you have to look a lot further to see the sides. Here are some pictures from the top.

Lost Punch and New Pictures

I fear that my blog has lost it's punch. As wonderful as Hawaii is and as many fantastic things keep happening, I don't feel the same hilarity in my need to put down my thoughts as I did last semester. Until my punch returns to me, I will entertain you with pictures instead of words.

This is my weaving class (yes it's all girls. We had one guy, but I think we scared him away). We're making the backdrop to a play that's being put on in a few months entitled Appalachia Hawaii.

A very strange plant I found.

Where I spend my life...

...with these two lovely people (Kelsey and Hanam) as well as many others. My disreputable glass family. Seriously, some of these people are scary.

Super Exciting Pictures of My Super Exciting Dorm

I have so far done a very bad job of taking pictures, but I promise that I will try to get on the photo train as soon as possible. It's not that I'm unprepared. I bring my camera with me everywhere, I just forget to use it. Pretty soon my friends here will post pictures of me on Facebook and then I'll be able to filch them and post them here. Until then...

my very average cell, I mean room

the tree in my hallway

Were the World Mine

Obsession is such a strange thing. I remember when I discovered U2 and listened to I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For about 500 times. Or when Moulin Rouge came out and Aurelia and I watched it over and over until we could recite along with Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor as well as sing all the songs in perfect imitation. Now, this phenomena is not simply enjoyment of a thing. Obsession, in this case and in others I suppose, is utter devotion to this thing to the exclusion of anything else. You think about it constantly, if it has music it's perpetually stuck in your head, etc...  I love Field of Dreams, The Princess Bride, and Ella Enchanted more then anything, and yes, I can recite them by heart, but it was a slow learning of lines developed over years of watching and reading again and again. In the obsessive case, I read or watch or hear the thing once and my world blows. I become completely absorbed and immerse myself until eventually, I can breath evenly without that thing always near me. Funny enough, while I currently sound creepy and stalkerish, I never do this in relation to another person. It always involves a work of fiction. I'm not exactly sure what the criteria for my obsession is exactly, but it usually involves magic and music of some kind. Actually that's not true. I do know what it is. I become enthralled with depictions of a fantastic world. A world that I will never be able to access because it isn't real or fathomable outside of the written word or the TV screen. That's why I love TV shows. The fantasy can go on for years instead of two hours or only a few minutes of some singers heavenly voice. Well, it's happened again!

Anyway. That was basically a very long and slightly sketchy introduction to a movie review. I was on Netflix the other day and saw the preview to Were the World Mine. I thought, oh that looks campy and sort of cute, I'll give it a go. It was the middle of the night and my room mate was out cold so my various reactions over the next two hours went unnoticed. I probably sat there for the whole time with my mouth open and my eyes glazed over. So. Timothy is an out gay teenager at a preppy boy's school with two hippy rebel friends (who don't go to his school) and a monster crush on the straight star player of the rugby team. His pixy-like drama teacher decides that the senior class play is going to be A Midsummer Night's Dream and that all the boys will be in it dressed in drag and that Timothy will play the part of Puck. While learning his lines Timothy stumbles upon the recipe for the love potion Puck uses to confuse the lovers in the forest and promptly makes it himself. The rest of the movie is spent in a tangled mess of sexual confusion as Timmy goes around spraying love juice in people's eyes and turning them gay. Yay! The hole town becomes gay, everyone starts marrying each other, the rugby team all starts sleeping together, and Timmy gets his man. Everything gets straightened out in the end (haha. pun.) except rugby boy who is not actually as narrow as we thought. This movie also includes wonderful things like the term "heteroflexable," a Mika song, and a line presented by a recently married woman in response to the question, "But what about family values?" The answer is "We're a family and we have values."

But I have left out the most fantastic part of this incredibly catchy and low budget film. IT IS A MUSICAL!!!!!!!! Timothy's daydreams are musical numbers and involve half dressed rugby players doing ballet and him wearing wings and singing about fairies. Basically, I have struck gold. I have seen this movie (or select parts of it) at least 6 times in the last 3 days, and I've had the theme song stuck in my head just as long. When I have a free moment, I re-watch my favorite parts and have now downloaded that song so I can listen to it ALL THE TIME. Thankfully the crazy stage of this obsession is waring off and I can return to sleeping and eating and going to the bathroom once more. You really must watch this movie. It is a representation of the way the world should be (gay and a musical, duh).

The Glory Hole

I'm sorry if it's shocking to you all and it may not last, but I needed a change of blogging scenery. Same crazy thoughts, just a different format. The other blog template felt too dark for Hawaii so we're trying something greener! So I'm taking some very cool classes and as of right now, I'm loving all of them. I have a substantial amount of reading and studio time, but I have very little writing to do, and on the whole, I don't think I'm looking at a very academically challenging semester. I'm taking Hawaiian History, Literature of Hawaii, Native American History, Weaving, and Glass Blowing. The glass class is by far the most challenging and will take about ten hours outside of class a week. Yikes! Now, my mind is no dirtier than the next 6th grade boy's, but I must say, glass blowing has the most suggestive terms of any other artistic subject I have ever experienced. We're reading this really great hand illustrated and lettered book on blowing technique and from it I quote, "First, you grasp the rod gently in your hands, making sure that the tip is hot and glowing red. Begin by rolling the rod in a relaxed motion, back and forth. Make continuous rotations in one direction, open the door to the furnace and insert the tip inside. Angle the pipe, allow the tip full penetration below the level of the glass. Continue the turning motion while driving deeper to gather up as much of the hot stuff as possible on the blow pipes head. Prepare to withdraw by coming out horizontally and gently." This coupled with the fact that the furnace mouth is called a "glory hole" is really just too much for me. All the guys in the class are all serious and paying attention and I'm there standing in the back sniggering to myself every time the professor says the word penetrate. Best class ever.
I think I may be getting a tiny bit less white!!!

Air Planes, Deranged Cabbies, Walmart Extravaganza, and, Oh Yah, HAWAII!

So... Flight number one I sat next to a lovely man in his early forties who was an english professor at some small liberal arts college in the Midwest and whose wife was a costume designer. He was delightful and didn't take up any of my leg or butt room. Flight number two I sat next to an unusually attractive guy my age who was pleasant to talk to and laughed at me when I tried to open my cold medicine packet with a knitting needle. Then he fell asleep and didn't wake up for the next three hours so he didn't turn out to be much fun. Then I had a monster layover of 6 hours in the most BORING terminal on the planet, but it was made less deplorable by the company of my friend Jess, who, although she was going to the same place as me and had a layover at the same time in the same airport, was actually taking different flights. The last flight, I sat next to a tiny and very sweet asian woman who told me all about her children and husband who were actually sitting ten rows behind us. It was a great flight. I also made friends with the three people behind me because the two old ladies had accidentally taken my seat. I told them to stay where they were and sat in their seat so we formed an unbreakable bond. The other guy was a freshman at UMass so that was exciting. Enough of this. It really isn't that fun to write about so it can't be that great to read. Moving on.

After waiting an hour with Jess in the Honolulu airport for my bag to arrive (which THANK GOD it did because I have VERY bad bag luck) we embarked on the best cab ride of all time. This cab driver had to have been at least 80. I was a little worried when I said where we wanted to go and he looked blank. Another driver came over and said it louder while waiving his arms and that seemed to do the trick. We also shared the cab with a wonderful and unfortunately unknown man who will remain forever in my heart for his humor and patience. So off we go. Jess was closest so we did her first. The driver went about 15 mph the whole time and practiced a full 3 second stop at every stop sign. He also kept asking us if anything looked familiar and if we were getting close despite our repeated protestations that we did not in fact know anything other than the address. We finally got it all figured out by calling Jess's RA who gave us directions which we were obliged to shout loudly and often to the driver lest he forget which way to turn. Once there, he attempted to remove everyone's bags from the trunk and I had to pry them out of his hands and put them back before he got it that only one of us was leaving. Needless to say, we went through a similar ordeal with my directions to the increasing frustrations and resignation to a sort of humorous pain on the parts  of the nice man and myself. We reached a point where his driving was simply too ridiculous and horrifyingly slow not to laugh at it. In the end we found my dorm (it was then 1 in the morning) and I was happy to discover that yes, my dorm is in stab city directly off the freeway. But really it's not that bad. My view is of the impoverished homes across the tall wall between us and them, and a row of palm trees. 

So far, my impression is that everyone is very nice. There are also a LOT of asians. There seem to be more asian women than men though. Most of the guys I've seen are white and blond haired and extremely buff. This could be because for some ungodly reason I have been put in a dorm in the athletics quad. Also, it is simply massive. I can see another dorm from my window and it is basically a massive sky scraper. The buildings are huge and have a lot of open air areas, but mostly, it's just that there are so many of them. Luckily, due to my extremely narrow academic tastes, I only have 3 buildings between my 5 classes. Two of them are next to each other, but one is clear across campus and wait for it, the name of this building is (drum-role please) Kamakakuokalani. I also have a lovely Korean room mate who sleeps like a log, doesn't care if I through my crap on the floor, and is extremely sweet. I think we will get along well. She's a junior here for a year on exchange from her Korean college. 

Lastly of course is the weather. It is currently 77 degrees, but it feels hotter because, a) it's so humid, and b) the air conditioning in my room is broken. The air smells amazing. It's heavy with flower smells and dirt smells from the fermenting leaves and petals on the ground. There's just the slightest breeze, but we've got a good cross air ventilation thing going when we open the door because our hall way is open air to the sky with a garden on the first floor below the hole in the roof.

Oh, and the foods good, especially the juice. Mom, I really don't think that only 50 meals for a whole semester is going to work. I'll just forge ahead and see what happens.