The Real Issues

Firstly, BP. You've probably heard a thousand people say a thousand things on the topic, but for me it's an important one. I'm a hippie at heart, people. I love myself the trees, the birds, and the butterflies, etc. And oddly enough, although a huge believer in living in th moment for myself, I do have standards on that count. One of them being that in living each day, I should do nothing that may compromise the day of another person - including the future days of another person ((Don't you throw that bottle out the window, sir)). I am obviously as upset as the next person on the topic, but stop BP bashing and start acting. Yah, the Gulf is in serious jeopardy with all the oil STILL spilling into it at 60 thousand gallons a day or whatever the estimate is now - but more importantly? YOU'RE STILL DRIVING TO WORK. Should BP be held accountable for the mess they've created? Most certainly. But that doesn't mean you are entirely off the hook by making outraged faces and slandering them verbally or even holding out on BP gas stations... you are still buying petrol. Now, I travel by air. Which also puts me in the limelight of hypocrisy, but I am looking more and more into petrol free options and airlines that aren't mainstreaming gasoline - and so should you. I suppose it isn't reasonable for everyone to just up and start walking or biking or even busing to work. But take another look at those tiny dorky hybrids, do you live close enough to work to bike? Get yourself in shape and save the environment! Heyoh!

Other, slightly related things? Lay off Obama for a minute, kids. He's giving his all and change takes time, you can't fix the economy over night or with a magic Presidency wand. Give it a minute.

Recently reading again about the 3 kids who were taken in by the Iranian military, I feel, as a traveler, that I must comment on this. It is fairly appalling, not just that they have not yet been returned to their homes but that they haven't really been allowed contact with the outside world. GREEN. Now, having been properly agog at that, what were these three kids thinking?! They were very clearly on the Iran Iraq border and knew it was unmarked. They should have had much more sense then to go wandering off the beaten path. It is sheer stupidity and gives young travelers everywhere a bad name. Now, I would love to do a walking tour of Northern Africa and the Middle East and even cross through Iran - but I would ensure I had a visa on me and would go nowhere near the border without one. I'm daring, not stupid. I seek adventure, not jailtime. End story, thanks.

Vermont? As picturesque as Tuscany - I tell no lies, kids. It's completely different, but the absolute raw beauty of it all is still there. It is overwhelming really. Late this morning I took the triplets out onto the fantastic and huge lawn that Boppy and Poppops have and just let them explore. They don't put as much grass in their mouths as they used to and love the simple stuff, to just wander. I would crawl after them occasionally and munch on their bare toes ((irresistable, just so you know)), but mostly I just soaked up sunshine and the quietness of it all. I was shocked at how quiet it was. Looking away from the house out towards the trees, with only the boys cooing and birds chirping, I felt more at home than I have in a long time. I don't think it was Vermont so much as just the quiet and the open space. So often we forget about the quiet and the open space. Think about it. How often do you hear a car go by or a telephone ring? The buzzing of electricity, doors opening and shutting, washing machines, dishwashers, the list goes on and on. Were we really made for this stuff?

I had a friend recently argue with me that they love all the noise and the stuff that the city and modern life have to offer. And I cannot deny that there is a certain appeal; modern medicine, the internet, and satellite cababilities being only a few of these things that have improved life for many people. I myself, as a professional vagabond, often partake in airtravel and facebook to keep in touch with all of you so very far from wherever it is that I am. This blog in itself is unecessary. But if I am being honest with myself? I'd give it all up if I thought I would accomplish something. I could start a magazine and send what is now an internet blog off to subscribers individually. The subscribtions could spread by word of mouth instead of advertising. Family members, friends, even strangers. All at a low cost. Having others send me letters instead of emails about how they feel about certain things. Could I do this? I don't know. I am tempted now that I have proposed the idea to myself. But how would I get started? Well, I would need a permanent address, my parents. And a way to contact them on a regular basis, phone. I could perhaps use public resources to type what I write by hand and print it off - that becomes complicated out of country... but not impossible. I would need a subscription rate, how much does it cost to print a page? Perhaps $0.15? Make it a simple 10-15 page magazine once a month and you are at a max of $2.00. There is, of course, shipping which may prove to be a bit more expensive. But then, a simple 15 page magazine will lightly fit into a simple 8"10" envelope which, when sent within the United States, shouldn't be much more than another $2.00? So perhaps a total of $5.00 per magazine? Of course, I would want to send some samples out all over for free first, get a general idea of what kind of response I could pull from the public. So for starters - What say you, public? Would you be interested if I stopped my online blogging efforts to send you something personally? Hey, I could even include a personal little letter to start out, seeing as my "fan base" is relatively small... heh. I am beginning to really love this idea - give me some feed back here!

With love,
Your Wandering Vagabond

As The Days Go By

First order of business? I'd like to apologize for my lack of posts in this past week! It's been a busy and internetless time, still there are no excuses! The 10 people or so that read this deserve better! And I am learning to be better all the time, just gotta give it time, kids.

Vermont is, spectacular. Breath taking, beautiful, awesome in the realest sense of the word. It is much like the San Juan islands in the PNW, I'm partial to the other side of the states but Vermont is just stunning as well. I am very excited to be spending the Summer here! Everyone is kind and interesting and have all been more than welcoming. It's wonderful to be back in the states for several reasons, although I bet you won't guess what they are. First and formost: Cellphone is back in commission! So I can text and call loved ones at will! Yay! And the very close second: COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF HEALTH FOOD!!! Good gracious I never realized how much I just want to suck down Odwalla juice, salad, fruit, sushi, granola, etc etc. I am disgustingly NorthWesternAmerican, I don't think I ever realized how much until I was never there anymore. If the store you're shopping at doesn't have a climbing wall in it? Not for me. If you can't pronounce the ingredients in your food? Not for me. If your day consists of being outside for 1 hour or less? Not. For. Me. I want something else. Thirdly: I have my own little cabin. It's not actually mine, but the space is. Am I going to hang out in there? No, probably not. But it's just the having my own space that's nice. Not that I don't love and adore Enzo and Eliza and the boysies! It's not the footsteps in the hall or the crying at night that I mind in Italy, it's actually kind of nice - cozy. It's the fact that the room isn't actually mine. The space isn't mine. I'm Hawaiian, but I'm also of Irish descent and those kids need lots of space. Just look at how spaced out they are over in Ireland! Anyway, those are the three main points of excitement being back in the US. English? Meh, overated. No strict Italian schedule? Meh, we have our own versions of that in the US. No Eda? I actually kind of like the old bird. Does she drive me nuts, yes. But so does my own grandmother - I think it's the Catholicism plus WWII plus generational gap. Overall it's just being able to be in constant contact with people, health food, and space. Gee I love health food... ha.

Back to Vermont!

Se7en

Ouch.

Achieving what you want takes time and effort and sweat an toil. It isn't just about the light at the end of the tunnel, it's also about the tunnel. Reach for the stars, and even if you don't get there? Make sure to take a good look at the view from so high up.
I have a new theory that truly beautiful people are unaware. Unaware of the fact they are beautiful, maybe. But more just unaware of themselves. They just don't think about it. Of course you have your super models and pressed suits, but that is superficial. Truly beautiful people are the ones who flop on the sofa in an awkward manner and are in a strange position but when you glance over at them you have to smile. They're the ones who have subconscious habits like playing with a strand of hair or curling their toes when they think. People who laugh freely and don't mind getting messy or disheveled. The ones who are just unaware of themselves. When you think you're not just beautiful, but superiorly so, then people tend to find you snobbish. And when your self esteem is low, people can sense that as well. But people who are just unaware of the modern ideas of beauty and see people for what and who they truly are, including themselves? Those are the people you want in your life.

I am turning into a pumpkin, so I bid you adieu.

Six

I am constantly amazed at how simple things can change our lives. Today my mindset was success. I tried my best not to let anything anyone said, any baby fussing, or anything get me down and every time I made a mistake ((I made several, if you ask Eda)) I just took a deep breath and told myself to remember to do it differently next time. Even just that rather than wishing I had done it differently the first time, let me keep my "brilliance" as Eda calls it.

I don't plan. Not 6 months, not 1 year, not 2 years, and certainly not more than that. I do not plan. Why? Partially because I believe in living the moment, partially because plans typically do not pan out for me, and partially because I enjoy not knowing. I like change and I like diversity. It has been pointed out by several people that I should be going to Uni, that I am wasting my potential. And I think somewhere in the back of my mind, I would love to go to Uni and really learn all that I can. But a separate part of me is realizing I have learned far more not going to Uni than I ever would have stuck on a campus or in a city for 4 years of my life. I am learning and growing and having real life experience. Plus I am teaching, helping others grow, and listening to the stories of so many other people. And their stories need to be heard. The people I have met along my journeys are the people many only ever hear about. This is what Uni prepares you for, life. What could a piece of paper possibly have to offer me that the world hasn't already given me in experience? Now, having made that point, I am not opposed to getting a degree. I just can't sit still for four years waiting to get back to the life I already had. I will get there, I will. But for right now, I love my life and the people in it and what I am doing an where I am going and all of it. I love the direction(s) I am headed, what could possibly be wrong with that. I am still challenging myself all the time and growing. What more could I want? This is life and I am living each moment.

"Everyone will tell you you're crazy, even yourself every once in awhile. You just have to look at them straight and say 'Probably.'"

Dia Tres

Today was harder. To say I had a rough day would be a lie. I had a fine day, boysies were good and we got in lots of snuggling and kisses and hugs and loves, etc etc. But I had a rough self image day. I was mad at myself for not going running and frustrated with the fact that I never complete goals for myself. What a joke I am making myself. This evening it accumulated and boysies were upset because it's humid and hot which lead to me attempting to get Deo to bed and failing. That was the cherry. Typically I can manage to settle Deo down in the evenings, but I think between him knowing his brothers weren't in bed and my obvious self doubt, he was upset and uncomfortable and probably hot and sticky. I'll go ahead and be honest, after Enzo came upstairs to help me with Deo? I went into my room, closed the shutters, curled into a ball on my bed and cried. It was a mixture of frustrations. Not being at home here in Italy, not having my own space, not being able to help Deo get to sleep, not feeling connected to friends from around the world, not feeling at home where I grew up, not having run in the morning - I was just full to the brim of reasons I was a complete failure and why I might as well just melt into the sheets.

I didn't. I stop crying for just a moment and looked around at the room in the dark. I never close my shutters. The room is different in the dark, unfriendly. Hollow. Empty. With the light from even the small window, it is alive. I am alive. And that's when it hit me, I'm an idiot. I can sit here and feel sorry for my stupid self or I can get up and go outside and run in the fading sunlight. I chose a run, light, life.

Maybe you don't know much about who I used to be, and I won't bore you with the tale, but that decisive moment is pretty damn impressive for me. I didn't even hesitate. I realized what a small minded fool I was being and immediately changed it. I could do something about the way I felt so I did. Self pity is overated. And only bugs lie in the dark.

Now, on the first part of my run I was still spouting anger, hostility, and self pity. And then... well, first I should explain my route. First we have the drive. There is a small amount of flat or slight incline, maybe a quarter mile. Then you have the rest of the drive which is maybe an 85 degree angle? For about 100 yards? It's fantastical, I swear ((by the way, the flat of the drive is also only about 100 yards - I had a misthought)). From there I run past the bar and horse boy's land, the church, and the sheep. It's flatish with only a couple small dips and ups for probably 2 miles. Probably a little less. I go past the pretty dog and the cute house with the dead cactus and the chickens Otto eats, then I descend for a little over 100 yards past the beautiful house and then right back up for another hundred yards to where the pavement ends. This is where I kind of lose track of how far the distance is. It's a beautiful road out on the ridge where you can see miles and miles of Tuscany. It is just breath taking. By far the most beautiful part of the run. This is where I let it all go. All the bad I had been feeling just melted with the sun. I took deep breaths and just let go and pounded myself into the dust. This was also the point I realized something about myself. That mile of my run is the most beautiful and calming and unbelievable part, but it's not the part I long for. Not the piece I get the most joy or reward from. From there I descend probably another mile ((once the pavement ends, my approximations are really just that, I have no idea how far it is really)). Then I turn left and follow the flat of the valley for maybe 3 miles? Then I reach the hill. It's about a mile up. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but it's insane. Then I have to continue on home for maybe another 1/2 mile. The top of the hill makes me smile, which probably means I'm clinically insane. But for me, the best part of the run is not the last quarter mile when I am sprinting in, despite sweat and pain and aches and exhaustion. The best part for me is when I get through the gate into our parking drive and know I did it. I ran that whole 7ish miles on Tuscan hills without stopping or water breaks or anyone cheering me on or cool weather - I did it. I accomplished exactly what I set out to do and I didn't hesitate or doubt. I did it. That's the real challenge, the real success.

I am reminded this evening how lucky I am to be surrounded by people who love and support me. By Eliza and Enzo, who love me as a friend and a daughter. By Eda who adores me even if she'll never admit it. By boysies who give me unconditional love and adoration, what more could a woman want? By my wonderful parents who love and support me even if they don't understand me. My grandparents who only ever believe in me. My aunts and uncles who think I'm crazy. My cousins who know I am. Kendall, KGeiger, Samijo, KPLegend, Maddy, Topher, Wesley, Yustin, Seanathan, Maryanne, Jo, Katiebelle, Kimberry, Jennifer, Margret, Deanne, Carol, ZP, Zach, Justin, CB, Jaders, Aaron, Jak, Becca, Cristian, RR, Jesus, Will, and everyone else who tell me to go for it, no matter what. Oh and BWat and JFray and Alayna and Maggie and Coco and Nik and Frank and AaronAaron and, oh gracious just everyone! I am honestly the luckiest lady there is.

With exhaustion and love.
Cheers,

0430

Four thirty AM and I have a love//hate relationship. I hit my alarm and can't seem to imagine anything worse than leaving my nice warm bed. I brush my teeth, stumble downstairs, gulp some water, and wish I was still seeeing the inside of my eyelids. I never hate 0430 more than in that first 10 minutes. But then, I fumble outthe laundry room door and stretch for 30 seconds just taking in the phenomenal Tuscan skyline, I push play on my itouch and start up the driveway. At that point, four thirty becomes my refuge. The sky is fading into a sunrise and even the birds haven't yet risen to greet the day. Everything smells fresh and I hardly remember anyone else even exists, it's just me and the rest of the world. Just the two of us, belonging soley to one another.

This morning I pushed myself up the drive. I am not so fond of hills, so I typically use them as recovery and take it easy then push myself on the flats or even downhill. But I wasn't exhausted yesterday. I hurt a little and I was tired, but that's not good enough. I'm not looking to bump my mile down a minute, I am trying to summit a mountain. The mountain. I want to feel aches in places I forgot hurt from running. So I pushed. I went up the drive, down the road, out onto the walk-ridge, and then I reached where we turn around on walk. I knew the road continued in and eventually down into the valley and then back up, but I wasn't sure how far it was. I decided for it. I followed the road out across the entire ridge which was maybe a half mile. Then down about a mile of hill at which point I turned left to loop back towards the hill I knew was going to be hell, but the road just kept going. One mile, two... My body knows well enough the 1mi, 3mi, and 5mile marks but anything above that just kind of blurs together. It's the reason I made such a good XC runner, I can't sprint for a dime but I will run you into the ground if you try to keep with me. By the time I reached the hil, my whole body ached with the numbness that comes from 5mi and up but I still pushed myself up that ridiculous hill. It's about a mile of maybe a 65+ degree incline. I killed it. I kept my speed and ran about 75% all the way up that sucker. I reached the top and continued to push the entire mile or so home. Including a solid spring the last quarter mile. I'd love to know exactly how far I went, maybe I'll dock it sometime. I did the whole loop in a little less than 1 1/2 hours, feels good. My legs are killing me and I am effectively exhausted. Think I'll do the whole thing again tomorrow.

Eliza mentioned getting a jogging stroller in Vermont to take Antonio out in the mornings so she can sleep. I don't know if that was a serious statement but I think that's a great idea. Combining pleasure with passion equals awesomeness.

Day One

I said it before and I'll say it again, I'm changing my life.

I've deleted my other blog and all the previous posts in this one and I am starting from scratch. Did I like what I wrote, for the most part yeah. But I'm starting over and I don't need the things I had before. What brought on this sudden violent change? I have to be the change and the honesty I want to see in the world, thank you Ghandi. No one else can do it for me.

To sum up! I am Malialani, world traveller not-so-extrordinaire. I'm 21 and I have most recently roadtripped the entire West Coast of the US, backpacked all over Peru from Pacific to Andes to Amazon, hung out in New York City, saw the backwards and forwards of DC, spent time in Southern Italy, artdrooled in Barcelona, and had my art displayed in Portugal. I currently reside in San Miniato, Italia and have seen much of the country with the amazing family I live with. I spend most of my time broke, living solely for that next flight to wherever I am headed, and I love it. I am headed towards Eastern Canada and the state of Vermont in just a week for work. My job? I currently take care of one year old triplets, the cutest triplets you've ever seen in your entire life, I might add. I live in a Monet of Tuscan hillside and each day is more beautiful than the next. But don't worry, this traveller isn't settled yet. There is still so much of the world to see and I am all about finding every single corner. To find out more, simply visit stalkmalia.com.

Along with my change of life, I am starting to do something that has never panned out for me in the past. I have a long term goal and a long term plan to go with it. Last time I had one of those? ... oh, wait. Never. I have just recently bounced the idea off my fantastic parents and several close friends and have decided that I am going through with it. What brought this all about is that I experienced disappointment this past week in that a person I thought I knew and absolutely adored turned out to not really exist. I mean, they exist physically, just not as the person they portrayed themselves as. Anyone can spout nonsense into beauty, it takes courage to make things happen. I don't want to be that way, I want to be exactly the way I portray myself. I want people to respect me because I follow through with action, not simply because of the philosophy I have. I want the words I write here in this blog or in emails, the words I speak, even what I think to have meaning. I want dignity. I want change. I want honesty.

I demand more from myself.

About Me

My name is Malialani, but most people call me Malia. I am a 23 year old self proclaimed vagabond house rose. Vagabond for my love of travel, culture, and peoples of every corner of this earth. House Rose for my devoted adoration of being a wife and mom.

I am married to Marko. We have a fantastic and wonderful love story I am still trying to wrap my head around. I have no idea why he puts up with me, but we happily exist in a state of love, sarcasm, and laughter. People call us M&M and we have a Mini M&M named Rory.

Rory was born the 11th August 2012. His middle name is Heleumau'ilanihekilikahiaualepo'i and he is beautiful. He talks more than Mark and I put together, even if we can't understand what he's saying. He has his daddy's eyes and his momma's smile. We are exhausted and blessed beyond our wildest dreams by him.

Me Then

I sucked my thumb until I was eight. I am devoid of any semblance of an attention span and lover of simple things. I have been to twenty-something countries, speak a smattering of languages, and have no intention of ever getting a degree from university. I love Criminal Minds and Hayao Miyazaki films. I believe in God and I do not believe that makes me better than anyone else. I am overly sarcastic and I like to create. Whether drawing, painting, writing, music, food - it doesn't matter. I hate money. I struggle with being patient and have a penchant for getting walked on by people I consider friends. But I love my life. And that's what's important.

Me Now

Loves of My Life:

Husband Mark. Critter Rory.

Green. Baby sloths. Fresh squeezed lemonade. Tattoos. Yoga. Local produce. Antarctica. Away We Go. Nose rings. Thrift stores. Africa. Film photography. Plaid. Criminal psychology. Homemade anything. History. Old fashioned doughnuts. Casablanca. Pearls. Australia. Mohawks. Jasmin Rice. The Big Year. Comics. God. Folk music. Books. Gardening. Dubstep. Home cooked meals. Central and South Americas. Art. Music that speaks. The Middle East. Brown sugar chai. Mission work.