Honolulu, HI. Jan.19.2016
Social media is hard work. When I live my life, I live it to enjoy myself, enjoy my experiences, and I often like to share it with others. Mainly on my blog because you guys really don’t give a shit what I look like so long as I write somewhat decently.
But the thing about social media is, it’s hard to be yourself. People can complain about it all they want yet no change happens because in the end, human beings WANT other human beings to sell them a dream. Women want to be sold a physical look that can’t be achieved by the grace of God; a look that can only be achieved by shopping recklessly or by piling on a ton of makeup to look “natural”. People want to be shown luxurious travel photos but want to know how they, too, can do it on a budget. People want to be sold a gorgeous body, but don’t want to put in the hard physical labor or adhere to the diet changes it takes to get there.
Today I ignored my camera for the most part and got dressed at 6am on the search for breakfast at a 24 hour joint (disappointment) and accidentally ordered meat that I, of course, did not eat. Ok, so I knew it was called “Scottish Bangers” and I’m very educated on what bangers are, but it was 6am, I was tired, and the description only said eggs, hash browns, and toast. I was very disgusted when a pork sword showed up on my plate like a burnt baby penis. Not that eggs are any better, but still.
Afterward, I went back to the beach and baptized myself in the Polynesian waters. I felt blessed to be in another year of life, and mummified in a ton of salt afterwards. This morning was the first time I swam since the accident ruined my back.
I swam again. For the first time. In Hawaii. As the sun rose. And I swam for 3 hours.
Afterwards, I lay my salt-encrusted ashy ass on my beach towel and proceeded to take the dreaded selfie per request. And this is why I hate selfies… After all morning of my beach towel being in the same spot for four hours, the minute I went to snap a selfie, the ocean decided to send a tide to completely wipe me out in front of all of the tourists. My towel was drenched, I was drenched, everything was coated in sand, rocks, and salt. The selfie came out horrible, so I’ll post this one instead.
I read a lot of travel blogs by women because, duh. And I never seem to understand how these women manage to look so absolutely fabulous in every single photo they post on their journey. How can you travel the world wearing heels? Did you pack your own photographer? Did you factor in a hairstylist and makeup artist into your budget? How do they hike up all of these mountains and stairs with their makeup still intact and their heels unbroken? Like who the hell wears makeup everyday when they travel? How did they fit all of these wardrobe changes into their carry-ons? I have questions!! I don’t do any of that even when I am at home.
Its only a dream and false advertisement. I mean, the photo above is generally how I look. I kind of wear the same clothes everyday on the road, and I often do my laundry in a sink or bathtub with some Dawn dish soap.
Today at the beach, I came up for air after being at the bottom of the ocean right as a tour bus dropped off it’s typical hoard of Japanese photographic tourists that I seem to see in every major destination I visit.
I never know why exactly people like this travel; if it is for the actual experiences or to put their giant dslrs to use. A family walked to the beach and hovered over my towel and belongings for a bit. One was dressed in slight Harajuku fashion with a red wig and the other was in a giant pink hat, a fanny pac, leggings, and a jacket tied around her waist. Her husband had the giant dslr in hand and everyone took turns touching the water with their fingertips while smiling at the camera as he snapped photos. The youngest daughter took off her flip flops and touched her toes to the water. Once they had all of the photos they needed, they scurried back to the bus and off to the next stop for more picture perfect moments in a land they will never remember or take the time to get to know.