i am back in hawai'i. And exhausted. I love it here. The smells, the night air on my skin, the people--this is home for me. I can breathe here.

i should be packing. My clothes are strewn across the floor and I have piles representing what's going and staying. But I'm not putting those piles into the suitcases.

i pitched a documentary idea to Bill Kurtis yesterday morning. It was pretty incredible. We'll see where it goe.

Then I met with my pastor. I love him. He gave me a whole new look at my life, and new energy for returning home.

I'm packing. It sucks.

honolulu is the seventh fittest city in the US.

i have forgotten what to write. Over the last week, I've written in here in my head so many times, I've forgotten what has been said and what has yet to be said. Though, I have a feeling, Everything still needs to be said. It doesn't help that my laptop is in the shop. :(

I am listening to Bailero sung by Frederica Von Stade. It is one of those songs that deserves to be played loudly, but the house is sleeping, so her voice competes with the sound of the computer fan. Still, it is beautiful.

I finally got to see my good friend Ashley, in time to celebrate her birthday. We sat in her apartment and talked over wine and brie. She is another food-for-my-soul friend. With her, just being in proximity is enough; I miss her whenever she's not near. Which is often, since we are separated by 4 time zones.

Mae is another instant-soul-connection friend, even though we barely ever see each other. She is insightful, honest, beautiful, and has an Italian temper. We told each other things that we weren't able to talk about before. Since I only had a short time with both of these amazing women, I decided to move my ticket home back a little.

I drove to Iowa to see my friend Alice (who's pregnant!) and her husband Joel. I listened to audio books while looking at the vast, white plains, and sang "Cecilia" while crossing the Mississippi. They have a great old apartment, with the strangest construction ever (2-foot long hallways with misaligned doors, walls made with old unused gravestones, impossibly tall ceilings)--it's a house only the Midwest could've produced. I loved it. And, I get to be an Auntie!!!! (And yes, that sentence deserves all four of those exclamation points.)

It is cold. Incredibly, nosehair-freezing, hand-numbing, unhappy-making cold. -20 degrees without windchill. This makes me unhappy.

I miss home terribly. Not just because of the cold, but because it is home, and I can feel its absence. I'm itching to get back to my own life, but there are still more food-for-my-soul people to see.

Friday, we're going night tubing! Yay!

watching annie hall. Quietly, because my mom is sleeping.

In a dimly lit coffee shop, a man once told me that I need a love that awes me.

I've just, finally, let go of one that didn't.

queen of quiet

i've always been good at being alone. I'm not a woman who leaves the t.v. on for company. I enjoy it--nights to myself are delicacies like wine and chocolate.

But for the last year, things have changed. The quiet builds inside me. Uncomfortably. I don't like this new avoidance.

i like existing within the space of a movie after it's over. I'm not saying I watch the credits, per se, but I like being present while they're rolling.

the house is quiet enough i can hear my computer processing.

Sometimes all you need is a good friend--no deep conversation, no explanations, just to be with someone.

Thanks Cory. Love you.

good friends

i got to see my fantastic friend Mel yesterday. She's one of those friends that, when we met, we just knew we'd be friends. That immediate, soul-to-soul connection. And our conversations are always like food for my soul.

She said:
"When I think of you in Hawai'i, the main thing I think is: 'Dana doesn't have a place to live.'"

I've had a roof over my head every day, thank God, but I haven't really had a place to live over the last three years.

Thankfully, I do now. And I love it.

I can't wait to get back home.

Sitting with my spirit

i forgot how beautiful the falling snow is in the light from the streetlamps.

i am tired of my own story. I am tired of telling it, over and over again. And so I've stopped, recently. I think I need to hold it for a while, re-absorb it, make it mine again until I can feel its weight.

I need to realize what my story is, now. If I try to place myself in this life, to find myself in this skin, everything turns fuzzy. Things have gone in unexpected directions.

I believe that your life is your choice, even in light of events that may legitimately happen to you. But I've been letting life happen to me--er, choosing to let life happen--and I think I've lost myself in the mix. I am still the same woman, with some new attributes. Good and bad. I just have to remember who that woman is.

i believe i'm going to try practicing mindfulness again.

...and, I've realized how much the midwestern lifestyle simply doesn't suit me. All of the superficial, consumption-focused, lazy-drive-everywhere-park-as-close-as-you-can, think of nothing but yourself, your job, the new purse you want... it's just not for me. It'd be so easy to get consumed with the bubble of a life you can create out here, I can understand how people do, but I prefer where I'm at. Even if it means all ramen all the time, termite-eaten walls, and no new clothes for at least a year at a time. It suits me.

soon to be a week past new years... i should really write about newness and all that stuff i normally think about around this time.

But I'm tired. So, I will just recap a little. Went to Michigan to see my friend Bob and had a GREAT time. Played in snow, saw the upper Michigan pretty and the eerie desertion of downtown Flint. Had lunch with my wonderful old friend Pedro. He's one of the few people in my life that constantly inspire me. He makes me excited about being alive. And now, am at bff's boyfriend's house, freelancing while he plays Call of Duty and she plays with Meeblings. That's right, we're rock stars.