My Life in Paradise

because I only wish I could make this sh*t up…

The posts I don’t write?

I keep meaning to update my blog and I open the page only to be inundated with internal lists of what I should and should not write.  I’ll get back to this when I figure out what I’m doing.  Until then – keep on ducks.  This is the good stuff.

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Flailing along… (humm to Bobbing Along on the Bottom of the Beautiful Briny Sea…)

The last 9 months have been made of flail….survivable, but totally back to back, nearly non-stop flail….

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I met a man who couldn’t hear and couldn’t speak….

Six or seven years ago when I first started to visit my parents in Hawaii I noticed each car had a pencil and a pad of paper in it.  I didn’t think anything of it, I assumed it was for notes as old people forget things.  I was wrong.

One day LadyMom asked me if I ever wondered what the note paper and pencils were for.  Obviously being me I said something snarky like “you’re old – it makes perfect sense”.  She huffed and said “rude child you are wrong.  They are for my Anthony.”  She told me about and that whenever they see him on the road they stop and get him as close to where he is going as is possible.  

NOTE: Hitching is very very common in Hawaii…

Yesterday, by chance, I met “her Anthony”.  Anthony is a Hawaiian man who can not speak and can not hear.  For years both my parents have been picking him up as he hitch hikes back and forth from town to his home in the village at Milolii.  

Milolii is an interesting place where the haole (white person) is not welcome at all.  

They take care of their own and they take care of Anthony very well.

As we drove along and he made noises I didn’t understand, but my LadyMom did.  They wrote notes back and forth.  He wanted to know who I was etc. etc.  He’s a kind man and when he got where he wanted to go we let him out.  He shook everyones hand and went on his way.  Anthony has an incredibly gentle sense about him.  Like he doesn’t know or care his world is different than ours.

I wondered aloud after he left about how different his world must be so to ours.  Communication for me is hurried and instant.  Everything is texts and googled  and emailed or chatted.  I find phone numbers and addresses on the fly and get a little anxious when my phone dies.  What if Mr.Monster needs me?  What if Ladyface has to tell me something bestie important?  

Anthony makes his way through the world with a pencil and the kindness of those he meets along the way.  He walks, often for miles and it’s just the way his life is.  Apparently 10 years ago they took his drivers license away because he can’t hear.  

I have often experienced anger and frustration from my friends who are differently abled.  They are (often rightly so) irritated and angered that the world doesn’t understand they need accommodation.  Hell the 4-5 months I spent limping around needing a ride everywhere after surgery made me surly, cranky, and unpleasant.   And then there is Anthony.  A simple man, living in a village 45 miles from town, supported by his community and at peace with his differences.


ps – more than one friend of mine has looked for sign language classes for me on this rock in the pacific and there are none.  I even asked at the university and there is just no freakin deaf culture here.  Apparently on the Big Island of Hawaii no one is ever deaf……



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Something – something – learn to fly…. wtf?



Somewhere between the life I thought I would have and the life I do have are a lot of old dreams.  Some were flights of fancy and others are things I should have done.  I find myself with more questions than answers just like everyone else.  There are metric tonne of books written about finding yourself and following your dreams.  I have 20+ of them along with a book about the heart of buddha written by a former punk and junkie.  

Yeah no.  I think this sums it up best.  

I stare agape at Sunday-in-the-park couples. Sidewalk strollers, fingers-laced, heads-on-shoulders, hearts laid bare. Audacious highwire artists, soaring netless… oblivious or brave. Arrogant idiots, I muse from my spectator view, hoping no one hears the screaming inside my head.

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Why I can’t find anything I want on Craiglist……

It’s a lovely day here in AlohaLand…..I’m working away and poof someone awesome (LeDragon) sends me something awesome.. Not won the lotto awesome, but close… explanation as to why I can’t find anything cool on Craigslist…..IT’S BECAUSE a lady named Victoria Olivia Barnes already has..

5,000+ miles away from me in a house (a house not dissimilar to the Victorian house Mr.Monster owns in Virginia) is where all the cool craigslist things live….including several giant mirrors that I would sell other peoples body parts in order to hang in the house I don’t live in because the house I don’t live in is where all our nice things are…

Great – now I miss no-wheresville Virginia and I’m verklempt to not be installing a claw foot tub and growing insane numbers of tomatoes this summer. Never-mind my office looks out over the blue expanse that is the Pacific ocean….. I’m never happy am I? Don’t answer that….no really…don’t answer….

Read Victoria’s blog – it’s what mine would be more like if I was restoring a house and not chasing my ass around trying to stop people from doing human things….I need to rethink my career change… Mr.Monster won’t thank anyone for any part of this least of all the fact that I’m going to find a freakishly huge mirror and put it somewhere in some house somewhere..


We have one like this… Virginia…..

Ps- I can’t stop editing this post or thinking about that mirror and how I need to get off this rock and steal the Morror.Troll..

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Take all you want…..but eat all you take……

I wasn’t an overweight child.  I wasn’t an overweight teen either.  But when I was eight, while on a trip to Australia, it was impressed upon me by my Australian grandparents that I could take all I wanted at meals, but I had to eat it all…….and you didn’t argue with them….ever…and those words stuck like glue!

Somewhere in my early adulthood I started to gain and lose 100lbs at a time.  My weight never stopped me from rock climbing, dating, dancing, combative show jumping, dressage, ranching, muay thai, savate, traveling or anything else.  And then it did…… my late 20’s I went from a 12 to a 20….in my early 30’s I went to a 22……this year I hit 24….and no one stopped loving me but me….but lemme tell ya when I decided to be an asshole to myself I was meaner that I’d ever been to anyone in my life…..

……and I stopped allowing photos of me….  I argued with people who have loved me from size 14-24 that I was no longer beautiful or sexy….  Getting engaged added it’s own dread because if I hated myself in the mirror, I was going to hate myself in my wedding pictures… and weddings are too fucking expensive to hate myself at!! So I decided something had to be done!  No idea what, but something!

Last week or was it the week before?  Irrelevant…  I was in therapy and we were discussing my thoughts on weight loss surgery…  WLS has been wildly successful for everyone I know, but something has been holding me back….  I could get weight loss surgery, but a surgery doesn’t deal with my food coping mechanism now does it?  NOPE!

So therapy goes on and all of a sudden the light goes on….the times I’ve been thin(ish) I didn’t have a compulsion to eat under stress…. why is that?  Because I was exercising regularly and the exercise took care of the stress part!  DUH why hadn’t I thought of that?  I immediately texted my brother ( with my revelation and to paraphrase it his response was “DUH” said with much more care.  He’s been trying to tell me this since before my knee surgery, I just wasn’t listening.

So enter CoachJ my new swim coach.  I meet with her 3-4 times a week and next week or the week after I have to start dragging myself to the pool by myself.  Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately)  even if I offered her a small fortune she won’t let me get reliant on only swimming with her poolside.

So I’ve been swimming twice this week and guess what disappeared   My desire to eat when I’m not hungry.  The cokes have disappeared from the house, replaced by bottles of water.  (Leave off the enviro rant please – our tap water is NASTY, even a Britta doesn’t help)  Today after swimming I went to Costco for glasses and I was starving when I left so I grabbed a slice of pizza – yummm…….and I didn’t eat it all, I didn’t have to forcefully stop myself I just looked down and thought “huh I’m done” and wouldn’t you know it Grandma Joan’s voice popped into my head…..luckily it popped right out again as I tossed my pizza and wandered back to my car..

This isn’t meant to be an anti-fat post or an anti-weight loss post.  I have to lose weight or I’ll be in a wheel chair..  My knees and my psyche demand change, if yours don’t then don’t.  Love yourself where you are at and for the amazing who that you are.

Oh and read this blog post.

The post made me realize that if I disappeared tomorrow there would be 1000’s of pictures I’ve taken and only a handful of me, none of them with the people I love most.  (Yeah Ladyface that means we are getting pictures together before my wedding so put on your spanks babe!)

<the end.>

(or maybe the beginning)

!!!!be gleeful!!!

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This won’t surprise you……

This won't surprise you......

This is me last week of school before the semester ends…

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Knee Surgery aka Stress Testing Your Relationship

Last week I went to see an orthopedic surgeon.  I needed more and better pain pills for my ongoing knee problem.  What I left with was no prescription and an “I’ll see you in the OR on Monday!” SOOOOOOO…… I left the OR on Monday with a prescription and a “We’ll talk about your knee replacement surgery in two weeks…Get some rest..”

Oh shit…..SHIT…..really??  Yes….. really!!

So a few months into my relationship with Mr.Monster the universe decides making me helpless and hopped up on pain pills is a good way to challenge us both.  To give you an idea of what I feel like when I’m incapacitated I suggest the following exercise:

  • you go to the local zoo
  • find the tiger exhibit
  • trip the keeper and don’t feed the tiger for 2 weeks
  • then saunter into the cage of the underfed tired and expect to not be made into dinner
  • Oh come on – I’m waiting with a video camera…..

Two weeks in the life of a tiger is really 4 days post op for me.

Today is Thursday and I can’t walk, I can’t shower, and no surface is comfortable for longer than a 2 hour nap.  Mr.Monster would probably prefer I was pushing up daises just about now.  My alarm is set for pain pills every 6 hours which for the first 24 hours didn’t work so I was awake and in agony.  The surgeon added an amplifier and now they work too well so I’m asleep, groggy, cranky, asleep, generally unhappy, fidgety, cranky, and biiiitchy and mostly asleep..

So this weeks life lessons…

<don’t retire and get fat>

<if my relationship survives knee surgery it can survive WWIII>

<being helpless sucks more, not less, as I age>



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Insights from Target or North vs. South

Mr.Monster and I are in the DC/Reston area for Labor Day weekend.  We went to see Lawless since it’s about bootleggers in Virginia and well, Mr.Monster is related to those people……best to know who you are sleeping with!  I digress, but only kind of…

There is a distinct difference between “up north” and “down south” and it’s more than just accents, the liberal use of bacon or the conservative nature of the residents.  In a very short, romantic, amazing month I’ve become accustomed to something in the south – polite and mostly friendly people.

Walk into any store, gas station, cafe, anywhere and people smile, greet you, say please and thank you etc. etc.  In the south (thus far) no one acts like a linebacker going for the bread or the apples.  There is no “” race from the checkout to the front door.  

Maybe it’s having gone from Hawaii, where we live aloha, to the south, where politeness is cultural that being in DC bothers me.  It’s not a huge bother, but it’s enough to remind me that contrary to popular belief I don’t much care for cities or city folk.  After our last trip to target so that I could procure monkey socks and polka dot shoes, I looked at Mr.Monster and said “I’m ready to go back home now please….”  Mr. Monster snickered and later the same day so did my uncle Mr.CrankyPants and my dear friend TheDragon, all of whom hail from the south…..  

There are many things I thought I would do with my life and many places I thought I would live – the south I assure you was not on that list, but neither was love.  So along with having already fallen madly in love with one very handsome and kind Mr. Monster – I’m falling in love with the southern half of Virginia.  So I can add loving being in the south to 101 things I never thought I would say or do, but isn’t that exactly how life works out most of the time?

<end – nothing else to read – go buy me shoes!>

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It’s been a long summer!!!

Hello – blah blah blah – too long – excuses – etc.. etc.. Now we are done with the long preamble check out this blog post from two of the coolest ladies ever!  My Vagina Has Legitimate Concerns About Electing Republicans!  I don’t even need to write about Aikin and his asshattery – these ladies did it for me!

Back to me me me me!

I’ve been from Hawaii to California to Washington DC to Virginia and I’m still not back in Hawaii yet..  Here’s the highlights!

  • Best Birthday Ever!  (except for the whole drinking so much I couldn’t eat my own cake part – apparently that’s what you get when AuntieMame puts Coca-Liquor in the Sangria…it’s the devil….it made me bite my friend…sorry Adora…) 
  • Chemistry – 1 year of learning smushed into 8 weeks – epic fail….total, fantastic, firey death fail..but I did make aspirin and that was seriously cool..
  • International AIDS Conference – best thing to have happened to me in 10 years.
  • Falling in love and moving to Virginia?  Yeap – more details to come.
  • NEW BLOG!!  Mr.Monster and I started a new blog.  There is nothing on it for now because we were too busy eating what we made, but yeah you guessed it – it’s a blog about food!

Yay!  Now you are up to date on me me me, you can read something funny and wonderful and TRUE about butch fashion...  Ohhh how I can relate….   I once was picked up at the airport by a butch wearing the most god awful jeans I have ever encountered.  So bad kissing was impossible – I was too terrified the bad fashion would leap onto me and eat my fab sweater..  There is no where on earth or in the known or unknow universe that colored – tapered – tight in all the wrong places (not that this horrific example of jeans has right places…) jeans should ever be worn.   This was a handsome butch who I have seen in some fashionable clothing – so wtf?  This wasn’t the wrong season it was the wrong clothing all together.

<nothing more to read – go buy shoes!> 


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