Definite

A lot has happened in the last month point five since I published a blog. Oh I’ve blogged, but just have not published any of my entries. I’m pretty open, but I don’t always care to put my emotions on blast. I’ll say that much about the unpublished.

Here I am on a Friday night at 11:45, having taught in the morning and worked all afternoon and night at the boarding house, staring at a weekend on duty followed by a week of school. If it sounds like constant work and a position you would not want to trade me for, you are absolutely, unequivocally correct. But… I’ve learned to be sort of a hustler at this boarding job. A hustler for time. As much as I’m on duty, I try as often as I can to make time for myself. Yes, that is my perpetual B-positive self talking, because when I’m on, I honestly can’t do all the things I want to do. Or half of them. In all fairness, I’ve grown fond of the boarding situation. The kids are great. The directors are great. The gig is great. It really boils down to the time. Being on duty so often and being a full time teacher is like working a 1.8. That’s 0.8 more job than I want. I’m sorry, but a room and bathroom (surrounded by teenagers, albeit lovely ones) and even meals aren’t worth working an extra 32 hours a week on average. That would be 72 hours a week. Add on teacher work I do outside of school and that amounts to, generously, 80 hours a week. A 2.0. That’s what I’m doing.

Life in Maui is as fantastic as it can be. Mauna Kahalawai and the rolling misty clouds and of course the Pacific Ocean make this an undeniably beautiful place to live. But Target is an hour away. So is the nearest hospital. And sometimes the one highway into Kahului shuts down (though I’ve driven Kahekili twice now). Plus, I’m a foodie in one of the biggest tourist traps in the world. That means limited selection, spotty quality, and high prices. Yall know I be going to Honolulu just for some dim sum. Why? Because it doesn’t exist on this island. I’ve asked just about every local I’ve come in contact with. None. No shumai, no shrimp ball, no bean curd roll, no red-vested bow-tied servers or pushy cart pushers. That’s a damn deal breaker in my book.

Then the real problem. People. It’s not that the people I’ve met are bad. They are wonderful. So much about this move has been spot on. The school is exactly what I wanted. The people are warm and welcoming. There are cool peeps who would probably make good friends (if I wasn’t working 80 hours a week). The people who are the problem are you people back home. I love you too damn much. I can’t stop thinking about you, and when I try, I fail. But really, I don’t try. I have an extra long dresser and night stand, both with glass tops. Beneath the glass, I’ve scattered 4×6 photos of miscellaneous people I love from back home. I love your faces. They remind me of my purpose.

Which brings me to my closing thought. What is my purpose here, and how long will it last? For me, I suppose it’s a matter of how will I know I’m successful with this move. My purpose here is not to detach from home. It never was. My purpose has always been to grow as a person, especially as a writer and educator (in that order). Both are happening monumentally. How long will it last? Well, I don’t know that the island life is for me. But that is October Jace talking. If you know me, you know I only go where my heart leads me and when it leads me. I try to imagine my life here without boarding, and I ask myself, would I be happier? The answer is, obviously yes. The real question is would I be happy enough? And I honestly feel, at this moment, that the answer is no.

When I was at O’Dea, I played three years of football. Freshmen through junior year. I did not like it. The program was excellent and I learned so much from it. But I was miserable. Besides discipline and commitment, I learned how important it was to not stick with something out of obligation, but to do what I love. After junior year, I quit the team and started a school newspaper. Lo and behold, I became an English teacher and a writer. Not a football player.

I’m not saying I’m as miserable as I was when I played football. I don’t think there was much I enjoyed about playing the sport (though I love being a spectator). Here, it’s different. There are parts of this move that I am genuinely passionate about. In fact, I think if I had one or two of my close family or friends move to Maui with me, I would probably stay indefinitely. But my tenure here is certainly definite. How definite remains to reveal itself.