Vanity

My hair is falling out.  Who do I call to raise the national alarm to orange or something because this is serious.  I am a Leo for heaven's sake, I am supposed to have a mane!  I am almost ready join the women's hair club or do an infomercial for Rogaine.  What are my options here? Implants?  I was planning on eventually getting some further south but this situation dictates immediate action.  I even thought about five finger discounting my sister's pre-natal pills since my nails could use a touch up, too.  Don't worry, the baby has arrived.  I  would never think of heisting the pills if she were still preggers (for very long anyway).  

I know you don't believe me but I am way too young for this to be happening to me.  Every time I shower and wash my hair I lose a yeti down the drain.  Maybe I should pre-empt the hair loss by shaving my head.  It's just that after my time in Hawaii seeing all that gorgeous, flowing, long and beautiful hair gave me aspirations.  Something to believe in, something I was capable of.  It would be a travesty indeed if I decided to go really short again but is it not a greater tragedy to idly watch my hair dissipate until I have three strands left?  I thank Donald Trump, but the combover is not a viable option for women.  

I am a girlie girl.  Prior to the airport fiasco coming from Maui I owned a vast array of hair products, and was proud of it!  Maybe I should just get Beyonce extensions but I'm worried about the actual quality of my real hair if I take that path.  I guess either way you cut it . . .

I'm vain.

Things that make me happy

health

the green trees

fun music

dancing

my family

yummy food

my nephews

rose

big words

stephanie meyer

mr. darcy

babies

pizza

the beach

mom

fun socks

rivers

adam's canyon

hot showers

perfume

rainbows

massages

new york accents

beauty

caramel

v chocolate

ballet

sephora

six packs

flowers

autumn

learning

scrabble

can I take a peek at your list?

Occupational Hazing

I really dragged my feet in deciding to apply to medical school again. I consider the entire process the equivalent of an Iron Maiden. They do it on purpose: the MCAT (the godzilla of all standardized tests), the grueling undergraduate pre-requisites, the entire AMCAS (the American College Application Service) application, application fees, secondary application fees, IT'S ALL A RACKET! In fact, I can't believe I'm doing this. Am I crazy, a glutton for punishment? Let's be honest, they've already rejected me once. If they have the nerve to reject me again, I'm intent on becoming a hobo on Maui. I'd be in good company, too. Oprah has a house there you know, not that she's a hobo or anything but I'm just saying, maybe she'd spot a sista a twenty here and there.

What I am saying is that despite the fact that it's occupational hazing and everyone's been through it, is there not a better way? How about me just sending in an honest self assessment which would go something like this: alright, alright, I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed but I've seen medicine up close and personal and I'm absolutely sure that I would make a wonderful physician because it's all I've ever wanted to do with my life, besides be a ballerina. See there, in one sentence I've covered all the bases. That's how we do things New York style:  curt, direct, to the point.

So here I am again fueled by the hope that this year will be mine (cue Whitney Houston's One Moment in Time here). I guess I am kind of holding on to an experience that touched me a few years back. I took a leadership training in 2005 and I had a "stretch" or challenge to go and interview several medical students at the University of Utah, which I did. I happened to meet with some second years in the lunch room and I asked them about their experience. I was surprised to find out that about half of the students I spoke with were second year applicants meaning they had applied once and got rejected then applied again and were accepted. That has both enlightened and inspired me.  It has also fueled me through yet another round  at the AMCAS application, another personal statement, letters of recommendation, and all the other BS everyone applying for the 2009-2010 school year has to muddle through. If those faces had given up at "no" they wouldn't be the doctors I am sure they are today, right?

Enter stage left yours truly.  As mentioned before, this application process is long and time consuming. It's kind of a challenge to stay consistently motivated.  Sometimes I wish there were more hours in a day, just enough to take a three hour nap and write my personal statement. I realize I get to suck it up at this point (have no doubt, readers, that I certainly will) but a little venting is just what the doctor ordered. And at least there's Oprah.

Captain's Log

Stardate 08.07.2008  

I survived a 12 hour journey from Maui to North Carolina and am comfortably settled in my sister's home.  The trip is not without its casualties, though.  Of course I had baggage issues-I always do.  I flew US Airways and they charge $15 for your first bag under 50 lbs and $25 for your second.  Needless to say, my first bag weighed 69 lbs (this is after sending two boxes ahead of time), so here I am removing items at the ticket counter to throw away while the line of people waiting to be checked in are watching in agitated impatience and the counter agent is checking her watch every five seconds.  Luckily, she let me get away with 54 lbs but I had to throw away a pair of Merrills that my Mom gave me and all my toiletries which were in a ten pound bag all by themselves.  

Those of you who know me know what a tragedy this is.  By toiletries I mean my hair product, of which there were several, my perfumes, my Bath & Body Works Japanese Cherry Blossom Body Lotion and Body Spray, my Victoria Secret Vanilla Lace Lotion and Body Cream, my nail polish, make-up remover, shampoo and conditioner, massage oil, and who knows what else. Bye Bye birdie!  Come to think of it, the total cost of these items is more than the $100 they wanted to charge me.  My yoga mat had a near miss, too.  I ended up snatching it back out of the garbage can unable to bear the thought of parting with it.  Don't laugh!  That yoga mat has seen more than you have!

I even thought for a minute about parting with my lucky blanket.  My lucky blanket was bestowed upon me over a year ago by my best friend SheRoos as a favor for being her bridesmaid at her wedding.  It's sage green, super soft on both sides AND has my name embroidered in one corner.  Thank goodness it didn't come to that!  I truly count my blessings for every single item that has made it through the fiery furnace of baggage check-in and is now safely arrived in North Carolina with me.

This fiasco has been a catalyst to some introspection on me and my stuff.  First of all, there is a lot of it.  Second of all, what is my personal attachment to it, and most importantly, do I really need it?  Let's try an argument in defense of having lots of stuff.  I guess I would be prepared in the event of a job interview or the joining of an intramural athletic team (think Boy Scouts).  In addition, should Imelda Marcos need an empathetic ear, I'm here. Lastly, if I should need reminders that people love me, i.e. the really expensive perfume my sister got me for my birthday one year or my lucky blanket, there are physical objects around me that hold sentiment and have personal meaning beyond their practical use.

Now, an argument for becoming a minimalist.  After first having to pay over $100 on the way to Hawaii and chucking over $100 worth of goods leaving Hawaii, I realize there is something to be said for not having much.  That experience has seriously made me contemplate owning just two or three outfits: one for working out, one for daily wear, and one for church.  My goodness, that would make life so much simpler!  I would never have to worry about traveling or what to wear!  I could fit everything into a carry-on.  Just imagine.  To be honest, it's really appealing.  I am almost tempted to try it for thirty days just to see if it suits me.  Three outfits and my lucky blanket, that is.

I think I might have to join an ashram for that kind of austerity, though.  Sometimes I am sure I am an in-the-closet Buddhist.  Except that I don't think that all life is pain.  Especially when my nephew is trying to improve my horrible hair situation with a misplaced and too big green hair clip.

Tuberose

I finally got layed--pardon me, I mean lei-ed. It was the sweetest thing. There is this too cute lady I work with and on my last day with her at Pier 1 she bought me a lei. Two, in fact! One is created from this really sweet smelling white flower called tuberose and one is made of tea leaf and is supposed to last forever because they dry really well. I was so honored to wear them. I had to stop myself from tearing up for the first half hour after she placed them around my neck. To show you how naive I am, I thought that when I got off the plane in Maui there was a good chance that there might be Hawaiian hula dancers waiting to place multitudes of leis over my head, but no such luck. Despite the absence of the Fantasy Island welcome, I wasn't worried. I was still happy to be here.

In my two months of being here, the ever so lovely and fragrant leis have eluded me. I would see them sometimes at the grocery store and want to buy one just to wear it and smell it, but what's the fun in that? I can't lei myself (hey, this is a family blog so keep it clean folks). I would also see flower shop advertisements selling gorgeously extravagant leis I could almost smell off the page and I wanted one so very badly. I never indulged because it seemed inauthentic somehow to purchase one for myself.

Anyhow, the store manager is a Jehovah's Witness and half of the employees of the store are Jehovah's Witnesses. To be truthful, if the kindness of these people is any indication of their religious teachings, I am halfway on my way to becoming a Jehovah's Witness myself. No, seriously though, they have been unbelievably warm, friendly and fun. Norma Jean in particular is the sweetest, kindest, most patient and generous person I have known in a long time. Customers I want to behead I just send to Norma Jean and they always end up happy in addition to having compliments on her customer service. So when she presented me with the leis I was so very touched both because it was something I had wanted ever since I landed in Hawaii, and because it is a symbol of the affection she has for me. What more can a girl ask for? I've got my beautiful leis and a spot in the heart of extremely wonderful people.

Conked Out

I got on the bus on my way to work and sat next to the cutest little keiki (child). He was about 4 years old and very rambunctious, but he seemed a little more harmless than all of my other bus fellows so I sat next to him. Mind you, I had been napping on the previous bus and was planning to nap on this one, so maybe that wasn't the best decision. While this brown eyed imp was entertaining himself in any one of a million ways, I shut my eyes leaned my head back and fell into a lull. Not five minutes later I feel a little head fall on my arm. He had fallen asleep! On me, no less. I swear a second ago he couldn't decide if he wanted to ride the bus standing up or sitting down and here he was conked out! He was so adorable, though. It just warmed my little heart to have him fall asleep on me.

After a period of warm fuzzies, I conked out too. So here we were, a pair of narcoleptic bus passengers asleep beside each other. I didn't want to wake him so I moved very little, but even if I did move this kid wasn't waking up for World War III. I would rouse temporarily to see where I was so I didn't miss my stop and I would wake up to the stares and smiles of the other bus passengers. I was sad when my bus stop came. I didn't want to leave my napping buddy. I thought about Elizabeth Smart-ing the kid but there were too many witnesses.

MY Maui

As I have only thirteen days left on Maui I have taken to reflecting on my time here. I wouldn't say I have had the average tourist experience but one just as good, if not better. I haven't stayed at the Four Seasons in Wailea but I have stayed at the Happy Valley Hale Hostel. I haven't taken a bike ride down the side of a volcano, but I have ridden Cheryl down the hill, past The Queen, and onto Dairy Road on the way to work. I may not have been to Little Beach or Big Beach, but I have been to no name beaches that calmed my spirit as I stared into their salty horizons. I have seen the beach calm, moody, clear, and cloudy and been both scared and soothed by waves that sometimes literally took my breath away.

I have seen windsurfers tackle waves with an abandon I'm not sure I could ever muster. I have been astonished at the beautiful machinations of the human body as I observe water lovers in their various sports. I once saw a conoe competition when I was waiting for the bus in Kihei. The enthusiasm for the vast unconquerable ocean, that on occasion will allow itself to be tamed, was contagious.

I have passed fragrant trees with flowers in bloom on my morning jog into the lush 'Iao Valley and I have hiked up to and gaped at Needle Point. There is a part on the path of the Wailuku Loop at which the bus comes around a curve and up over a hill and all of a sudden you are overlooking all of the various blues of the ocean that go on forever. I always become reverent at the sight. I wouldn't have thought to find a transcendent moment on a bus, but I take them where I can get them these days. And that is my Maui.

I'm not the greatest poet, but here is my Ode to Maui, a compilation of all my favorite things Maui has given me in the past two months:

Butter cream skinned people
shades of warm brown
Long hang down hair
dashed with the sun

Giving trees
fruit and fragrance
Shade, sounds and life
lushly vibrant beckonings

Ocean softly assaulting
your senses
Feel it sing and move
around you

Wet air laying heavy
slowly bringing ukelele strummings
to your half listening ear
being teased by sound and breeze

Flip-flops for hot feet
and
Skin

Mahalo