Life Unraveled

I haven't been sure what to write since returning home to Oahu some twenty-three days ago. I actually haven't been very sure of anything, to be honest. Coherent thoughts have not been my forte. Neither has staying focused, motivated, or even remotely interested in anything for very long. At first I blamed it on the jetlag. Perfect scapegoat, that jetlag. It is scientific, hard to debate, and besides, it just made sense to everyone (including me). For several days after arriving home, I would need a power nap around 4pm. Sometimes those power naps turned into three or four hour extravaganzas. Oh well. It's just jetlag. Don't worry. No other explanation necessary. See how easy that was? Eventually I realized that my body was back on Hawaii time. However, things were still not quite right. I wasn't feeling anything. For me, that is the ultimate warning sign of trouble. I had my moments, but for some reason or another, I could never quite sustain any m...

Those black marks on the soles of my feet tell the story. It is not dirt, but the dark rubber remnants from the singular pair of flip flops that has accompanied me through twelve separate countries in just over three months. They look like a permanent fixture, these dark stains, as if a part of my cellular makeup, but they aren't. On the last day of a truly epic and thoroughly fascinating trip across Europe, I feel kind of proud of them. I will eventually scrub it all off, probably when I have access to a shower for more than a few minutes once I return home (hostels aren't conducive to long, luxurious fits of bathing, in case you wondered). Yes, these slippers were made for walking alright, and have certainly accumulated some mileage while endlessly pounding pavements, trudging through hot sand, dodging puddles, and occasionally trekking up a few steep hills in the blazing summer sun. They performed their job function admirably. They owe nothing to anyone. Yet I feel a s...