Hawaii taught me the importance of safety, family ancestry, native lands, and spirituality. I learned how to release expectations to avoid heartbreak.
Hawaiian cultural practices inspired me to move back to Northern California, my family's native area. The volcano Mauna Loa erupted right after I left the island. Maybe Pele got pissed that I moved away.
My grandparents owned a cabin in Lake Tahoe when I was young. For some reason I felt a strong urge to go back to those beautiful mountains. Paradise doesn’t have to be tropical.
When I arrived in South Lake Tahoe I got a call from my aunt, asking me to go to the hospital in Sacramento immediately. My grandma was dying. I got a rental car and booked it down the mountain as fast as possible.
Even though I hadn’t talked to my mom in six months I decided to call her to tell her that her mom was dying. It’s kinda crazy that’s how and why we started talking again. Death brings people together.
By the time I got to the hospital my grandma had a stroke and couldn’t even speak. She was naturally a comedic storyteller, so it was hard to see her go nonverbal. Unable to use her voice, humor, and opinions. She died the next morning.
My mom arrived after she passed. By that time I was already back up in the mountains, because I didn’t want to see that bitch. She sat there alone with her dead corpse in the hospital. My mom was pissed she was the last to find out about how sick my grandma was. For some reason she expected to get one of the first calls, even though she wasn’t close to any of us in the family. My mom never got along with me, my aunt, or my grandma. She should’ve been grateful we even called her!
I loved spending time with my grandma in Lake Tahoe, she was so excited to hear that I was moving there. It’s like I was spiritually drawn back to her to say goodbye. The timing was wild. She died right after I arrived!
My grandma was the center of attention wherever she went. She was a star who had the natural gift of gab and popularity. It’s rare to know someone so funny, smart, and attractive. Her nails and lips were perfectly painted red when she was younger. She had bright blonde hair and only wore the colors black, white, or red.
My grandma was raised on a small chicken farm and started working hard at a very young age. Her tough upbringing inspired her to live a fabulous life. All of her travel experiences gave her an incredible eye for art, beauty, and fashion.
Sometimes she would suck down a cigarette in one long drag, for dramatic effect, to emphasize part of whatever story she was telling. When she first got sick she screamed and cried for her eyebrow pencil while being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. She didn’t want any of the doctors, nurses, or neighbors to see her without eyebrows. It’s safe to say that drama runs in our veins.
Even though she could be a total diva at times, she was extremely giving towards others. My grandma was always there to help all of us out with whatever we needed. Our age gap was annoying, because we could’ve been besties. We loved drinking margs and watching comedy together. Whenever I asked her how old she was she would say “twenty nine” with a smirk. She was truly an unforgettable legendary character. I miss her so much!
My grandparents were creative, funny, smart, and adventurous characters. Their homes always looked like modern art museums in magazines. They owned fabulous cars and airplanes that took them all over the world. When they were home there were always cats in their laps. I remember them showing me stars and planets through their telescope in Lake Tahoe.
My grandpa was always looking up into the sky because he loved to fly. He enjoyed walking around nature while taking pictures of birds. I thought of him when I saw Blue Jays by the lake. If my grandpa could choose how to be reincarnated he would return as some sort of flying creature for sure.
Both of my grandparents came from humble beginnings, but changed their lives to be full of art, travel, and luxury. So iconic. I’m lucky I got to have them in my life!
Even though I was extremely close to my grandma, I seemed to handle her death better than the rest of our family. Probably because we shared some morbid discussions about life, death, suicide, and murder. She outlived all of her friends, lived a full life, and felt ready to go. Of course I missed talking to her and wished she was still around, but so it goes.
My mom accused my aunt of killing my grandma because she accidentally gave her COVID. It was so wrong. My aunt was the person taking care of her. She would never intentionally hurt anyone!
After my grandma was cremated my mom took her ashes back to her house in Huntington Beach. My aunt still lived in my grandma’s house and worked at the cemetery burying people for a living. The ashes should have been left with her in Sacramento, where she was supposed to be buried. My psycho control freak mother took them and refused to meet up with us to bury her! It was so selfish.
My grandma wasn’t even invited to my mom’s house while she was alive, because they hated each other. It pissed me off that her ashes were held hostage in my toxic childhood home. She would be rolling in her grave, if she had a grave to roll in. Actually she’d probably think it was funny. She’d roll her eyes, scoff, and laugh while muttering something like “Good Lord.”
Since my aunt worked in a cemetery for years, I asked her if she had any ghost stories. She told me about a young man who died from a Fentanyl overdose. Hundreds of people showed up for his burial, so he must have been pretty popular. During the funeral a big Native American chief gave a memorial speech that turned into a ritualistic chant. A hawk circled over the grave and landed on a branch next to everyone. The bird watched the entire burial while making eye contact with all the family members. My aunt totally thought that the bird was the chief’s pet, but it was a wild animal. Everyone talked about the hawk after the ceremony. They agreed that the bird had to be their dead loved one. It made all of them believe in reincarnation.
Blue Jays are known for being funny, bold, bright, smart, creative, and powerful. They know how to face adversity and help others in need, just like my grandparents. I couldn’t help but think of them when I watched the Blue Jays fly around the lake.
If reincarnation is real how does that explain ghosts and mediumship? How could a psychic communicate with the spirits of the dead if they’ve gone on to live a completely different life? Many spiritual people believe in ghosts and reincarnation, but how could both those options exist simultaneously?
Of course I had to look up all the local Tahoe myths and legends. One native tribe believed there were newborn babies with tadpole tails swimming in the lake. People said that the babies cry to lure people towards the lake so they can drown them. I also heard tales of an eagle with the face of a man who ate people. There were also rumors of a long necked nessy living in the lake. I heard that the mob disposed of their murder victims there too. Despite all the horror stories I still wanted to jump in the water.
South Lake Tahoe had such a chill laid back stoner vibe. It suited me better than most other places I lived. Mountain people enjoy outdoor activities like skiing, snowboarding, hiking, biking, swimming, paddle boarding, and scuba diving. It was easy to meet fun like minded people that appreciate nature.
I got a seasonal gig working as a liftie and rented a cozy little cabin nearby. Of course I needed all new clothes to match my new snow bunny aesthetic. It felt good to have a temp job with a month to month rental. Where you are does not dictate where you will go. Everything is temporary.
When I walked into my liftie training group I couldn’t help but ask “AM I THE ONLY FUCKING GIRL?!?” The room was filled with stoner snowboarder bros. Luckily they laughed and accepted me as one of their homies, even though I was an elderly female skier. Hot boxing the ganjala before hitting the slopes brought us all closer together.
Working as a liftie was a strange mix of being bored and stressed out. It’s kinda like being a lifeguard. You do nothing most of the time, but when shit goes down, you better be ready! I wanted that job for the ski pass and ride breaks. It was nice to be up on the mountain away from it all. That was a pretty chill job as long as there weren’t too many Jerrys or Karens around.
I got paired up with a Hawaiian boy named Makoa for training. We shivered in the lift shacks while reminiscing about the tropics. Moving from summer in Hawaii to winter in Lake Tahoe was sure a shock to our systems. We needed all the water, lotion, and chapped sticks in town. It took us both a while to acclimate to the high altitudes and low temperatures. We missed knowing our neighbors and talking to strangers.
When Makoa moved to Tahoe he knocked on his neighbors door to introduce himself and they acted like he was insane. On the mainland families seemed like strangers. In Hawaii strangers seemed like family (sista, brotha, auntie, uncle).
In Hawaii there was no night life, so it was exciting to live near the stateline casinos. My tropical friends got such bad fomo. They wanted to follow along or meet me on the ninth island. Vegas Baby!
My snarky black cat hated the snow. He missed playing with the cockroaches and geckos back in the jungle. Moving Lando to Hawaii was such a tedious paperwork process, but he loved it out there. We both got a little seasonal depression when we moved into our snowy log cabin.
Over time I began to notice how I remembered things differently at different times. I romanticize island life, even though that chapter was gnarly to say the least. Even though I had a hard time in Hawaii, it was harder to adjust back to life on the mainland. I’m just grateful I survived living in the fucking hood of a psychedelic volcanic jungle.
Some of my coworkers were surfer bros from San Clemente. I couldn’t keep up with them on the slopes but we had fun hotboxing their cars after work. They taught me that bongs can explode in cold cars at high elevations. It was refreshing to work with nice funny men. They said I love you to each other when hanging up phones and walkie talkies.
Most of the daytime lifties smoked hella weed and most of the night time snow makers snorted lines of ketamine. Driving snowcats and snowmobiles through the dark mountains while fucked up at night sounded like a great plot for a horror movie.
I loved when we got to smoke joints and take ride breaks with our friends. Some days we spent all day shoveling snow instead. Hawaii didn’t seem that bad during the brutal avalanche storms. The grass literally wasn’t greener.
My first real winter was like the most brutal winter of all time. There were record breaking levels of snowfall. It was a difficult adjustment to say the least.
I missed seeing stars and hearing jungle noises at night. Hawaii is such a incredible place with some weird ass fucking people. Guess I could say the same about most of America.
Experiencing different seasons is magical if you have the right supplies. Lake Tahoe California was much safer than Pahoa Hawaii, but of course I still kept getting myself into dangerous situations.
Part of being a girl liftie was being hit on all fucking day. Of course I loved it when the hot funny guys flirted with me but there were too many old creeps.
Since I still didn’t have my own car I ended up hitchhiking and catching rides during desperate times. Everyone knew where I lived and worked. Privacy is a luxury.
One day it was dumping snow and the power was out. A guy in a hummer pulled over and offered me a ride. Since we were in the same work uniform I hopped in his car. We drove about a block away and picked up more girls in the same ski uniform. Both girls were from Costa Rica and they assumed I knew that guy personally. They flipped out when I told them he was a total stranger and that we hitchhiked. For some reason they thought he was my boyfriend.
I ended up becoming great friends with one of those girls, it’s crazy that’s how we met. I told her about strange American traditions like Groundhogs Day. I loved hearing all her stories from back home.
Hawaii and Costa Rica are both known for having happy chill vibes. Aloha! Pura Vida! Unfortunately paradise isn’t always safe. There are way too many dangerous men EVERYWHERE.
My friend Aria and her family took me on a fabulous trip to Costa Rica when we were teenagers. It was epic! The margs were strong, the plants were lush, and the sloths were adorable. We went jet skiing, surfing, snorkeling, atving, rafting, and zip lining through jungles. I can’t wait to go back! Costa Rica has amazing biodiversity. I could totally see myself ditching the states to live there someday.
The ski job was such a sausage fest and most of the dudes were thirsty as fuck. One of my coworkers straight up told me that his new year's resolution was to get laid more often. Cool story bro!
There was a cowboy liftie who gave me rides regularly. He was missing his front tooth and drove around town in a truck with a hound dog. We kinda bonded over weed and our past farm life chapters. He also had a Hollywood show biz phase filled with douchebag narcissistic egomaniacs. I liked him as a friend, but he wanted more from the relationship. I just wanted to get to and from work in one fucking piece.
There was also an old former firefighter liftie who gave me a few rides. Whenever men offered to drive me around it seemed like they wanted to turn the ride into a date. Luckily I was able to make real friends with cars.
The ski resort was in the mountains above the casinos. I got to meet snobby rich people and broke ass ski bums from all over the world. Tahoe tourists usually go there to party. Some people would try skiing or snowboarding for the first time while coked up and wasted. They never let their inebriation or the weather get in their way. Total fuckin bombers.
There’s nothing scarier than watching a fucked up beginner adult barrel down the mountain at full speed. We often had to call ski patrol for the party people. One of my coworkers said he saw more dead bodies at ski resorts than in the military.
When I first moved to Lake Tahoe I kept eating shit. I told a British coworker that and she looked at me in disgust as if I literally ate shit for breakfast.
One of my coworkers got chased by a bear while walking down the street with carnitas fries. He just ran into his cabin and shut the door to escape. That same dude drunkenly fell asleep while making snow angels and his neighbor reported him as a dead body.
Another one of my friends kept falling asleep in nature while tripping. One time he fell asleep on a surfboard in Hawaii while shrooming and woke up in the middle of the ocean. Another time he passed out mid rafting on shrooms and woke up when he hit white water rapids. He was also reported as a dead body after falling asleep in the woods during a little snowboarding weed and shroom break. One day he called out of work to ski around the resort, but our manager caught him trippin while doing tricks on the slopes. They didn’t fire him, but they begged him to be less of a fuck up.
Nature always wins. Weather can destroy even the strongest people. One of the most advanced skiers on the patrol team died while cutting through the forest post storm. If you ski or snowboard, watch out for tree wells.
It’s crazy how many people bought lift tickets without buying or renting gear. They would walk up to the lifts ready to hop on with no skis or snowboards. How the fuck did they expect to get down the mountain? Common sense is uncommon.
Snowboarders often broke their arms or collarbones, while skiers were more prone to knee injuries. Lots of people got head injuries from falling on rocks without helmets. Most of my coworkers rode through ungroomed woods, but I stuck to the blues and greens.
One time a girl got fucked up at her bachelorette party down at the casinos. She ditched all her friends to hit the slopes with her snow and snowboard. After doing lines in the bathroom all day she finally emerged ready to shred. We told her we were closing, so she had to get back down the mountain. She refused to leave the ski resort and gave her number out to most of the male lifties. They eventually had to shove her onto a gondola. While it was leaving the station she attempted to prey her way out of the doors and her arm got stuck in the process. She got arrested and banned from the resort when she reached the bottom. Later she texted some of my coworkers to let them know that she was newly single because her wedding got called off. She ruined her friendships with all the bridesmaids and groomsmen too.
Another time a lady wanted her own chair lift. Instead of simply asking for what she wanted, she jumped off the lift while it was leaving the loading station. She landed in the middle splits and got dragged by the next chair. The liftie hit the stop button and popped off her skis to help. She cried, screamed, and accused him of assaulting her before she got arrested.
There were some horrible storms that prevented us from working. Plus there were still gnarly viruses going around. All of us were financially fucked and scrambling to find work. I needed to break back out of the rat race corporate day job scene for my spiritual and creative sanity.
My coworker Jack talked about how God wasn’t in charge of our finances, but then he got paid double! He returned the money back to the company, but I totally would’ve pocketed it.
He asked me if I thought my black cat brought me bad luck over the years. I couldn’t blame my precious kitty boy for our misfortunes! It was time for me to take accountability for my actions and decisions. Sometimes karma has to balance shit out.
Jack’s brother Terry told me stories about seeing ghosts around Lake Tahoe. One time he was waiting to order at the Burger Spa. He turned around and saw a bunch of dark shadow figures waiting in the line behind him. After he ordered he looked back again and they were all gone.
Jack and I ended up dating for a couple months. I’ve always had a thing for hot snowboarder surfer dudes. That was my first time being a total cougar. I had to look up what his texts and slang words meant, because I don’t speak young or snowboarder. He never got any of my “old” references. We actually took things slow which was refreshing. It felt good to have a crush and open up to someone again.
Jack often talked to his friends and family on speaker phone. It was hard to get him to open up to me, but I overheard his friends asking him about his manic bipolar mental health problems. He was prescribed some antipsychotic medications. Since I struggled with similar symptoms and I was dating him I wanted to hear more about his issues.
Whatever led up to his diagnosis embarrassed him. I couldn’t get Jack to open up to me, so I knew our relationship wouldn’t work out. Who was I even dating? What did he do in the past? Maybe I could have understood him better if he gave me a chance to. He had no desire to communicate. I overshared while he under-shared.
On the night of my birthday we ate some magic mushrooms with friends. We climbed up Cave Rock and watched the sunset with some blunts and beers. There were baby bunnies in the snow, which is a sign of good luck in most cultures. Once again the mushrooms eased my problems and inspired me to dramatically change my life for the better.
Isolating myself in the woods, jungles, and mountains made me kinda socially awkward. I got comfortable with my solitude and forgot how to interact with people.
The Lake Tahoe ski crowds gave me major anxiety. I felt claustrophobic working with hoards of tourists. Maybe anxiety and stress are our body’s ways of telling us that how we are living is wrong. It’s natural to want and need space, but maybe I dramatically isolated myself away from people for too long.
I knew the liftie job wasn’t the right fit for me, even though I loved my ski bum friends. My purpose is to explore, create, and help others!
I need to explore more of our beautiful planet.
I need to create art and keep trying new mediums.
I need to help as many animals and insects as humanly possible.
My adventures showed me that I’m naturally a nomadic creative person. I could always keep moving or traveling to seek better alignment elsewhere.
After a huge storm we had to shovel out all the chair lifts and magic carpets. I was bitching about the cold hard work when my coworker yelled “IF YOU DON’T WANT TO WORK THEN FUCKING QUIT!”
I quit and walked out on the spot. Fuck that place. Impulsively leaving jobs and places while PMSing has been such a trend throughout my life. I kept repeating history, but at least I was self aware?
Or was I? Maybe my PMS problems were the real problem! I needed to get my hormones checked out before officially getting diagnosed with autistic manic bipolar schizophrenic borderline personality depression disorders. It seemed like I couldn’t keep a fucking job no matter what it was.
I didn’t have the money or health insurance needed to deal with any of my issues at that time, but that’s exactly why I needed that help! If I could get a diagnosis then maybe I could qualify to get financial or medical help, since I couldn’t hold a fucking job. I just kept boppin around while raw doggin my mental illnesses. The resources needed to help me weren’t readily available, so I kept putting off dealing with my problems.
The storms in Tahoe were gnarly to say the least. Some locals told me it was the worst winter in over thirty five years. I got mad cabin fever and chopped off all my hair. It was down to my ass and damaged from all my adventurous traumas.
My short natural brunette hair didn’t feel right to me. My soul is blonde! My personality is blonde! But I had to get rid of that dead old hair to make room for some natural healthy growth. I’ve officially mastered the art of letting go.
I told Jack that I wanted to ditch Lake Tahoe to explore more. It didn’t make sense for us to be in a romantic relationship since I was planning on leaving. He asked if we could work something out and thankfully I agreed.
Since I couldn’t afford rent I found a van with a great loan. I got everything all lined up, but there was a problem with the license plates. The company wanted to send them to the address I listed, but I was moving out of my cabin and into the van. When the car company found out that I planned on living in the vehicle they revoked all their loan offers.
I was homeless, jobless, carless, and fucked. Jack invited me to move in with him for as long as I wanted, so I stayed with him for a couple months.
Lake Tahoe taught me the importance of having people. Jack was my best friend there and if I didn’t have him I would have been out on the streets in a fucking blizzard with my cat. Donner Party Vibes. I was so over the gnarly winter storms and eager to bail on mountain life. Independence is important, but so are friendships and relationships. I held onto some good people and we all helped each other out!
I stayed outrageously optimistic about my goals. I switched gears, got shit done, and made moves. It was time to take control of my fucking life.
The day the van plans fell through was surreal. Every store would only take cash or was closed. I kept seeing 555 and 1010 everywhere. It felt like the universe hit the brakes on my plans. Maybe I was unintentionally rushing her. For some reason I was trying to force things to move faster. Guess I wasn’t quite done there yet. I kept thinking about Big Sur and Santa Cruz, so I felt like I needed to visit the coast next for some reason. I hadn’t seen the ocean in so long.
My intuition told me to finish up creative projects and move forward. The synchronicities encouraged me to deepen my spiritual practices and share them with others. It felt like the right time to write down more stories.
I wanted to make the worst shit that has happened to me the best shit that has ever happened to me. Maybe our problems are super powers.
A few days later I was hanging out at Tahoe Bagel, stressing over what I should do, and where I should go next. I was totally zoning out, but then I realized that I was staring at Big Sur & Santa Cruz bumper stickers. Next to them was a smaller sticker that said “Don’t worry. It’s going to be ok.” I wasn’t sure if I was going through another spiritual awakening or losing my fucking mind.
Divine guidance is psychotic, if you’re a muggle. You have to believe in the magic of the universe for it to be real. Muggles think that Harry Potter is a weirdo freak orphan, because they don’t have the abilities to recognize his powers or perspectives. Thankfully he escaped and found a magical place filled with like minded characters who loved or hated him for who he really is! Only magical people can experience magic. Of course it all sounds crazy to people who can’t see it. That’s why they call it “SPIRITUAL PSYCHOSIS.”
I was so fucking broke. I walked around town wondering if I should really be focused on writing. When I looked up I saw paintings of deer all around me. The art felt like confirmation that I was on the right path. I trusted myself and the universe. I assumed my creative endeavors would eventually pull through. Some breakdowns lead towards breakthroughs.
I couldn't help but think about Maggie from my Chelsea Lately days. She trusted in the powers of the universe and her manifestations which led to her being homeless. I wondered if I was making the same mistake, but did it anyway. She eventually got back on her feet, so I knew that I could too.
Did I reach a whole new level of enlightenment or psychosis? Was I about to receive real substantial positive change? Or was I about to get thrown into a loony bin for a fucking lobotomy?
Even though I liked Jack I knew we wouldn’t last. He always had a screen in front of his face. I noticed that most people adventure through video games and movies instead of exploring in real life. Once again I realized that I need a vehicle and my own clean private creative space near nature to thrive.
Traveling around felt way more fulfilling than artificial fantasy media. That stuff can be fun sometimes, but I didn’t want to get sucked back into that broke ass couch potato lifestyle. NorCal was known for natural hippy vibes. Maybe I could find a nice tribe of spiritual vegan nature yoga freaks nearby.
Jack preferred fishing over drag shows. His love for hunting and lack of hygiene bothered me. Jack confessed that he put fish through trauma from catch and release, but “AT LEAST THE FISH HAD A GOOD STORY TO TELL!”
Maybe that’s how God sees me! A creature to traumatize for the sake of a good story with lessons to share. God would totally do something like that.
My friends and family encouraged me to speak to a professional, but that shit’s expensive! Going to therapy could ruin my artwork. Working through trauma creatively was therapeutic. Plus western medical professionals kinda scared me. What if I’m too honest and they throw me into a psych ward for a grippy sock vacay! What if their drugs suppress my spiritual superpowers!
I wondered if I subconsciously kept putting myself through shit for my art. For the sake of a story or cathartic creative release! It’s healthy to use art to heal, but it’s toxic to keep going through bad things on purpose in hopes of creating better art. I had so many photos and stories to share. I just needed to get over my crippling imposter syndrome and put my work out there already.
If I wanted to be an artist, I would need to create art. If I wanted to be a writer, I would need to write. If I wanted to be a photographer, I would need to take photos.
That sounds so simple, but self sabotage was my daily routine. Having a manic identity crisis was very on brand for me. Chaos became addicting.
My lack mindset kept me stuck, borderline homeless, jobless, and unable to level up. Obsessing over the past and my mental health made things worse.
Mountain life was magical, but the storms were way too intense. I missed being around creatives in my favorite cities. Ditching my mountain flannels for blue hair and red lipstick was such a move. I edged up my image to look more like a “real artist.” Bye clean mountain girl aesthetic, hello angsty emo bitch.
I ended up leaving Jack the same way Levi left me. I planned on traveling before we hooked up or lived together which made things complicated. He was so kind, welcoming, and generous towards me. I didn’t want to hurt him after everything he did for me, but I needed to be single and free to roam.
Levi’s past actions made way more sense to me after I was put in a similar situation. I was so heartbroken over him back in the day, but I legit forgot that he existed. Part of me wondered if I blocked him out of my mind due to trauma, but I think I just naturally healed over time. Moving is a great way to move on.
Looking back I wondered why I let his words hurt me so much. Every person I have dated provided valuable lessons for the future. I don’t need to be in a relationship to be happy. I’ve taken an independent path that doesn’t make sense to most other people and that’s okay. I’ll accept more love into my life when I meet the right person in my own time.
My experiences in Hawaii and Lake Tahoe were completely different from what I expected. Paradise was not calming or relaxing. Running from hot lava and avalanches left me in panicked survival mode. Now I understand why people go to those types of places for vacation, instead of living there.
The winter storms in Lake Tahoe were so bad, I barely made any money up there. Most of the town closed down. All the smart rich people got the fuck out of there before the roofs collapsed.
Just before leaving I saw a wild bobcat roaming through the neighborhood. Bobcats are curious, stealth, independent, and self reliant. They enjoy being alone and know when to leave a situation.
I drove down the mountain in a moving truck with my kitty boy and bags. We escaped the winter storms and survived! I was able to get a car before our next chapter. It was such a relief to be able to drive around freely again. BYE BYE BUS LIFE!