It's 9:04 A.M. HAST, which means that I am approximately two days and 4 minutes behind on my workout schedule: two days because it was the weekend (family time, yo) and 4 minutes because I got stuck reading out on the front porch, browsing the classifieds (in search of a job), and reading blog posts. Now, I'm in the mood to blog, and every blogger knows that when such a mood strikes, one must act, lest is eludes you once again, never to return until the next task worth procrastinating is nigh.
I felt a particular need to blog because I want to bottle up this current emotion of "done feeling sorry for myself", "ready for the next challenge", and "surrender to God and the universe, because all will be alright with life" before I succumb to another sorry state of self-pity.
What self-pity? Huh, who, what, why?
Yes, I was feeling very sorry for myself because I did not live up to my own expectations in various ways. But my dad says to let the recent past go because there is nothing that can be done about it anymore. The kids will be OK and I will be OK. Life moves on, I gotta move on with it.
Sounds good, Dad. OK, I'll try. I mean, I will.
I still kind of can't believe that I actually live here in Hawaii. What was a wistful fantasy only two months ago -- one week before quitting my job -- is now a reality. I've already met some (OK, one... or two) pretty cool locals, one of whom is an educator (is it I who is drawn to educators, or vice versa?). I eat a lot. I bask in the hot weather (I think I've mentioned before how miserably hot weather pleases me more than miserably cold weather). I exercise, read, and write. It really is everything that I thought living in Hawaii would be.
I moved in with my parents -- a move which, a few months ago, I thought signified some sort of failure. But then again, I also thought that quitting a job signified failure. I'm finally overcoming my closed-mindedness in that arena. Sh*t happens in life. You can't control it all, no matter how much you try. I'm accepting my circumstances for what they are rather than looking upon them (or myself) with an overly-critical eye.
I'm also learning that when I am separated from my loved ones, I tend to imagine that they are leading the same lives that they were leading when I last saw them; this is not the case with my family. My parents have rediscovered some sort of youth and happiness (or maybe they were always this way, but I was too much of an emo teenager to notice) and have picked up new hobbies. All family members in my household are grown up, with their own interests and priorities. Learning to adjust at home has not meant learning how to grow "backwards" and become the girl that I was when I last lived with my parents. Rather, I am adjusting to a brand new lifestyle -- how to live with new kinds of roommates, how to commute about a new neighborhood, finding new forms of entertainment in an environment where not everyone is a hip, young professional... It's new, and God knows I love new. I can't believe that I ever thought that moving home would be a bad thing -- I love my family, I cherish the fact that I have an opportunity to get to know my parents better while they are still young (they're not even 50 years old!), I'm living rent-free... and I live in freaking Hawaii. Like a boss, yo.
Alright, time to get down with Shaun T. I'm eager to log not only one half marathon, one full marathon, and one bike ride across the Embarcadero and Golden Gate Bridge with my beloved running shoes, but 60 days of Insanity, as well. Operation: 6-pack and Strong Arms for Rock Climbing is in full swing (pardon the double meaning; unless the double meaning was too subtle for notice, in which case, carry on).