On Hula

The scorching lights burn my eyes as I walk toward the stage.  The thousands of volts cause beads of foundation-filled sweat to drip down my face.  The palapalai ferns I picked from the mountains and braided together are tied around my wrists and ankles like they were meant for cutting off circulation.  The sweet maile leaves twisted with pikake are draped around my neck; the strong, sweet scent filling my nostrils with a heady fragrance.  Voice strong, chin up, shoulders back, chest out, fingers together, strings tied, stomach sucked in, motions memorized, I'm ready.

O ka hula ka 'olelo o ka pu'uwai, no laila, 'o ia ka pana pu'uwai o ka po'e Hawai'i. "Hula is the language of the heart, therefore the heartbeat of the the Hawaiian people."

Hula is an ancient art form I fell completely in love with at the age of 8.  Being from a Japanese family, I was the black sheep who found my identity in Hawaiian dance and language.  I always had a deep love and respect for the beautiful island I call my home.  The Hawaiian people did not have a written language, so the only way to preserve their history and culture was through singing, chanting, and dancing.  It was their way of passing down the stories of their people.  The hundreds of beautiful Hawaiian songs and chants honor the beautiful places, people, events, and historical reigning monarchs of Hawai'i.  When I was very small, I saw a group of girls dancing hula on center stage at Ala Moana.  Their grace and confidence exuded off the stage, and I knew that was what I wanted to do.

On Spice Girls

The Spice Girls were one of the biggest musical fads of the '90s.  Their album sold 28 million copies worldwide and hit number one in over 30 countries, making them the best selling female group of all time.  Let's face it, most of us know the words to "Wannabe" and "Spice Up Your Life", whether we wanted to or not.

Whoever did the marketing for the Spice Girls was one helluva genius.  I mean come on; Sporty Spice, Scary Spice, Posh Spice, Ginger Spice, and Baby Spice? The athletic one, the outgoing wild one, the silent fashionista, the token ginger (don't worry I laughed too), and the girly leader.  All the little girls singing and dancing along to their songs had to relate to at least one of them (except maybe ginger? hah. I'm sorry. I don't mean to offend any gingers) My friends and I got together and entered the talent show in first grade.  We each picked a Spice Girl that best represented us, and we dressed up and sang and danced together just like they did.  I wonder how many other girls did the same.

Their careers skyrocketed in the mid '90s and exploded internationally.  They soon faded from the spotlight, and never really made it back to the center stage again.  There have been so many "one-hit wonders", and I guess in this case the Spice Girls were more of a "one-album wonder".  It was a fun fad to follow, and don't argue this one with me, especially girls.  Boys I know you secretly loved them on the inside and wanted to sing along with us, but didn't for fear of perpetual embarrassing teasing from the other guys until the end of time.  It was so much fun dressing up and dancing around, blasting their songs and screaming along with them in the car while your parents roll their eyes.  It was a part of history that made my childhood.

Fads are a bigger part of our lives than we may think.  When we look back on things, we are reminded of the lives we used to live and the people we used to be when those fads were popular.  Seeing how we've progressed in music, fashion, and whatever else only goes to show that we are always moving forward, for better or for worse.

On Pareaus

You're probably wondering, "what in the heck is a pareau?" It is a part of my daily wardrobe when I am back home in Hawai'i, but who would have thought it had so many uses?

Pareaus, also known as sarongs, are colorful dyed lengths of cloth using the methods of batik. The history cannot be traced back to a single place, since so many cultures use pareaus. There are many variations in many different cultures, some with tasseled edges, interchanging color patterns, and/or  tribal designs printed on them. I have a sort of demented addiction to them. When I see a pareau I am immediately drawn to it, and if I like the pattern and design enough, I'll buy it for sure. I have a red one with swirling yellow flowers, an orange one with fishes printed on it, a yellow one with tribal stingrays, and the list goes on. I have pareaus from Hawai'i, Tahiti, Samoa, and even Japan. Just as a girl can never have too many shoes, a girl can never have too many pareaus.

My everyday wardrobe at home consists of a bikini, salty tangles of hair, a surfboard under my arm, and a pareau tied around my hips. Walking around like this while shopping or eating in restaurants is perfectly fine and considered normal. Considering we live on an island surrounded by beaches, it is more unusual to see someone walking around in a coat or boots.

After a long day of surfing, I grab my pareau and dry myself off with it like a towel. I lay it down on the sand and used it as a mat to lie down and read. I shake the sand off and lay it on the seat of my car. It's a great substitute seat cover. I forgot my purse, so I wrapped my cell phone, wallet, book, water bottle, and shorts into a perfect little bundle topped off with a knot. It started to rain, so I grabbed my pareau and wrapped it around my head and shoulders like a blanket to fend off the wet drizzle. And I finally got to Tahitian dance practice, where I tie two knots in the cloth and hike it up to my knees as the yellow flowers bounce up and down, and the fish twist in circles, and the stingrays swing to the beat of the drums.