You Weren’t Invited.
by Dori Nicole
Honolulu, Hawai’i Jan.20.2016
I looked up today and noticed that I have been living the life I claimed as a child. Although our lives never unfold in the ways we expect, I saw that I am among the few that is doing everything she ever said she would. I hope this lasts, and I also hope I never have a job to go to again.
I wish I could write some deep meaningful post of how Hawai’i changed my life; of how I am a whole new person but I’d be lying. This is who I have always been and if anything I have only been inspired to seek out more of myself.
I lay on the beach and watched my skin turn from a light-bright yellow to a Kit-Kat within minutes. A massive storm cloud then appeared along with some wind and some showers and after laying under it for awhile, patiently waiting for it to pass, I decided to pack it up, grab a hot-pocket from the corner store and get back in my bed.
There’s so much about this place that induces laziness and because being lazy is my favorite thing to do, I’m surprised at my own willingness to return to Los Angeles. Granted, if it wasn’t for the legal stuff and things I had to sign for lawyers I would stay longer and island hop instead.
A flurry of text messages from family, friends and people I haven’t heard from in years have come in since being here (funny how people become strangers until you post something they want on the internet). People want to know if I have gone to a Luau yet, if I am walking around in a grass skirt and coconut bra, or if I went hula dancing.
Maybe everyone thinks I am a complete idiot and will really spend my vacation in that kind of an outfit or maybe they truly believe that that is what people wear and what people do down here. I just said, “No. I’m not a tourist.”
I was told that because I don’t live here then I am automatically a tourist. I could be confused, but I thought tourists booked tours, wore those outfits and went to Luaus. Not the people who still get hot pockets and beer from the corner store for dinner. Or goes to the small and ignored Vietnamese restaurant that is tucked behind a 7-Eleven for a giant bowl of Pho Bien when she’s feeling fancy (every day at 2).
When you throw yourself into the world alone, you see who you are and who you can be. People from the outside may project what they would do in your position, instead of realizing that the experience was always meant for you, and you alone.
They were not invited.
Hawai’i has felt like a second home to me, so I’ve been doing the things I would do at home ie. be a complete introvert who wants nothing to do with other human beings.