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.