“Why Would You EVER Leave Hawaii?”

Aloha y’all!

Where does a pasty-white Michigander with Polish/Irish ancestry get off throwing around the term aloha?

If you’re an avid blog reader of mine, you’ve likely heard me dropping alohas like f-bombs. And if you follow me on social media, you’ve certainly witnessed my tired aloha gear. Annnd, if you’re in my physical space, you’re surely exhausted of the trite tales of Hawaiian grandeur.

Clearly, I’m not Hawaiian. Hell, I don’t even live in Hawaii anymore.

So what’s with the fascination?

Honestly, I’ve never really sorted this out for myself. Annnd I think— it’s about time we get to the bottom of this— together.

Ah yes, it’s Tuesday— my designated day for client coaching calls. First up on the agenda— fresh meat.

“Hello, Miss so-and-so, this is Coach Katie.”
“Hi Katie! I didn’t expect to receive a call from Hawaii. Do you live in Hawaii?!”
(And there’s my cue…) “Unfortunately, not anymore. I live in Florida now.”
“Why would you ever leave Hawaii?”
“I know, right? Foolish.”

That has become my narrative. And aside from sounding like a sad tale, it’s drenched in negative inflection and reinforced with low blows. Wow! Ya-bish.

Now, if any of you Florida folks are tuned in— I’m gonna give you an opportunity to make an exit, because it’s about to get really ugly.

Florida, the “Sunshine State.”

I’m told we live in paradise— and who could complain about 365 gloriously sunny days? Ya got me there. It’s not the weather (or the wildlife, or the oranges)— you’ll never hear me complaining about bugs, sunshine or hot, humid weather— I’m like a lizard.

For most, Naples Florida is absolute paradise— and the last thing I want to do is take that away from them— because if someone came at me, trying to take my paradise away, you better believe I’d be swinging fists. I just want to express my personal experience with the “Sunshine State.”

You know what comes to mind when I think about Florida?

Real estate
Botox
Sterile existence
Politics (Trump in particular)
Old drivers (love you Gramma)
Manicured
Flat, soggy land
Rednecks
Old pretentious money
Leaf blowers
Community regulations

Did you know, there are communities in Florida that won’t allow you to own a motorcycle? Even if you keep it in your own damn garage! So I assume my moped is off the table— God knows, we wouldn’t want to lower the property value with a ratchet knock-off Vespa doing wheelies out the entrance.

Going on 4 years of living in this shit state and I still don’t get it. What’s with the leaf-blowers? It’s not litter. Let them be— or at least let me get through my morning coffee before making all that ruckus.

See! I said ruckus! I’m getting whiter and moldier by the minute!

So I take that back, what I said before about Florida being a shit state. Florida is as it should be— very vanilla. I’m the shit-head that continues to live in a state that doesn’t speak to my soul.

So let me tell you what comes to mind when I think of my soul state.

Hawaii, the “Rainbow State”

Enchantment
Rainbows and G*d damn unicorns
Exposure
Raw experience
Unadulterated
Free
Daunting
Fearless
Playful
Adventurous
Primal
Magical

It’s hard to explain really. It’s a feeling, more than anything else— It feels connected, yet singular, vulnerable, yet powerful— it feels like coming home.

So why did I leave?

Why continue living an un-enchanted life, in un-enchanted space?