Monday, July 11, 2011

Why I'm In Lihue

Sooooooo, it has come to my attention that there's more than a few people who don't know I'm here and why I came. So I decided to put it on the blog so anyone with more energy than me can read it-this way I don't have to tell the story forty times. It isn't lazy, it's economical.
So there I was in Rexburg, looking for work and wondering if the pool was every going to get finished and opened so I'd actually have a job. I was hired, but because of the weather and flooding, they kept pushing the start date back. I wasn't about to wait around for a "We might open" but no where else would hire me.
In the meantime, my Aunt Sierra was getting ready to move and the idea was put in my head to move as well. I'm single, unattached, assetless-basically a hobo-so why not try somewhere else? I didn't take it seriously because...well...it was crazy and made no sense. But the thought wouldn't leave, so I decided to get advice from some friends. Then the thought really wouldn't leave, so I decided I better do some serious thinking. So one weekend I decided to do a whole lot of fasting and praying and pondering about whether this was something I should do. The ENTIRE weekend I felt really, really good about moving. It felt like the first time in months God was finally saying, "Ok, now it's time." Sunday I had my brother give me a blessing and that doubled how good I felt about the move. So I decided I would move.
Then Monday morning dawned and I kept thinking how crazy it was and how much it didn't make sense and I began to doubt that I had recieved my answer. On Tuesday, we were driving back from Walmart and drove past the construction area that would one day be the pool, and I felt sick to my stomach. A lump formed in my throat and I took a few deep breaths to keep from crying. This was strange. Usually driving by the pool made me feel excited and I didn't understand why I had such a sickening reaction to it now.
That night as I was praying and fussing over whether I had actually gotten an answer or whether I was over analyzing things and feeling for some inexplicable reason that this decision was a big one and I really needed an answer, I had a prompting to flip my journal open and read. So I opened it to an entry where I had written about how many times we get on our knees and whine about not getting answers and God's looking down at his watch thinking 'Can't you wait ten more hours? You'll get your answer tomorrow.' And all the emotions of the last two days, the ones that made me feel like crying at every moment, disappeared, and I knew I'd get my answer the next day.
Soooo, that next day I went to the temple and in the Celestial Room I pulled out the scriptures and opened to one that basically said, You already got your answer. "What greater witness can you have than from God?" Touche.
After that I knew I'd gotten my answer to go, but so did the adversary. He began working against me harder than he has in months. Every waking moment and most unconcious moments were filled with horrible thoughts and feelings designed to make me feel like the worst person on earth, completely unworthy of this move, and that if I do this, I am the most selfish brat and everyone will hate me. It scared me. I knew I was supposed to go, but I was so overwhelmed with fear (of the unknown, of everyone hating me) that I quibbled.
Until my aunt walked in and sat down. "Kim," she said in that mom voice that makes you feel guilty for everything you have ever done in your life and even for those things you haven't done. "Are you going?"
So I said yes.
My mom called a few minutes later and asked if I was going.
I said yes.
And immediately I was assaulted by a horrible guilty feeling, a feeling that I was the worst person in the world, a selfish spoiled brat, and that if I go horrible horrible things will happen and it would be much better to stay in Rexburg where it's safe. The feeling was unrelenting, so I knelt down to pray and asked that if I was doing the right thing, to please let me feel safe, calm, and not guilty. IMMEDIATELY all those horrible feelings went away and I felt so good, so happy. A few days later I bought my ticket.
Everytime I've prayed about it I've gotten the same confirmation that moving is the right thing to do. When I landed here, I felt so peaceful, it was like I was floating and I took it as another confirmation that I was doing the right thing. Absolutely no clue why I'm here, yet, and it may be that I won't figure it out for a while, maybe even after my time here is over and I've moved on, but I followed the promptings and I know I'm where I should be.
Ironically enough, as soon as I bought the ticket, the weather cleared up and the construction on the pool finished and it opened right before I left. Interesting, don't you think, that it kept getting pushed back until I made my decision, and then it suddenly opened?
So public opinion be hanged, I did what I knew was right. We'll see what happens.

Monday, July 4, 2011

Greetings from the Ghetto

So I lack the motivation to organize the following thoughts into a coherent flow, so instead, I'm going to take the easy way out and give you a few disjointed snapshots of my first few days. If you don't understand, tough coconuts.
Okay, so my first day in Kauai I accidently saw two birds doing something unseemly to the (apparently) romantic mood music of incessant rooster crowing. Awkward. Reminded me of the lizards in California I thought were "playing". And what, you are no doubt asking yourself, is with all the chickens? Well, first of all, about a decade ago (or more) there was a little storm called Hurricane Iniki that blew domesticated chickens all over the island and over time these little walking lunches became feral. This may sound like the plot to a cartoon, but I'm being very serious. So when you come to Kauai, part of the tropical fauna you'll encounter are farmyard cluckers. (Come to think of it, these babies are the ultimate free range livestock and if it wanders into your yard, a little work you got yourself a bucket of fried chicken. And no, that's not why there's only one KFC on the island.) Anyways, so the fact that all the neighbors around here have roosters sounding off in their backyards didn't really phase me. I just assumed they were taking advantage of the low cost food source.
However, I failed to add 2 and 2 and come up with 4.
You see, my aunt lives in Hanamaulu, aka Little Manila. And these Filipino neighbors aren't rasing hens, they're raising roosters.
The other day a great deal of short Filipino men were gathering across the street. I was trying to figure out why they'd chosed the gates of the so-called park (park my foot, it's just a field) as their official 'talk story' site, when a thin, short man pulled out two metal cases with holes. The cases were clucking. The men drifted to the back corner of the park and slowly others arrived as if some unseen signal had been sent. The onlookers included a pregnant woman pushing a stroller, followed by two little girls. Who the freak takes children to a cock fight?

Outside you can hear and see the helicopters fly in and out of the airport. In a way I find them a bit depressing. It almost seems like they're trying desperately to leave the island but are being pulled back by their inadequacies. On the other, funnier, hand, it's amusing to think about the tourists who spend countless hours flying over here so they can...fly some more. To be fair, I have been told that the views on the helicopter tours are spectacular and to my right is a narrow chain of mountains looking not unlike moss covered ridges on the back of a stegasaurous. They'd probably look cool from the air. But speaking of flying, it never ceases to amaze me that we can leave the coast of California and somehow, miraculously, land on a teeny, tiny island in the middle of the largest body of water in the galaxy. Navigational instruments aside, how is it that human beings, who can't ever seem to find their car keys, can find this?

I heard a rustling in my room the other night and was afraid a mouse had discovered my bag of carmels. I squeaked and slapped my hand on the bed hoping the noise would let the rodent know a panicking human was nearby. I clicked on a nearby lamp and found a mouse on the glue trap. I wanted to be sick. It took me a few to realize the only way of getting it out of my room so I didn't have to listen to it squeak all night was to pick up the trap and take it elsewhere. So after a great deal of squeaking on both sides, I moved the quivering thing outside. Put another trap down and a day later another one had committed suicide. There are absolutely no words to tell you how disgusting that is. Please tell me I don't have hauntavirus written in my future.