Hawaii, Illness, and Burnout

I had a whole blogging thing planned for the trip to Hawaii. I even wrote a little in my notebook on the plane there and a few times while I was there so that I could record my experience for the posterity of all. A week has passed since I returned, however, and none of this delightful blogging has happened.

I caught the plague while in Hawaii, you see, because apparently I am allergic to paradise. My body rejects perfection. But really that’s no surprise to anyone.

And maybe it was deciding to attend a conference the first week of school; maybe it was getting sick and having to fly six hours to get home. Maybe it’s just the combination of last semester and this one, but I have embarked on a hermitage. Only recently have I willingly left my apartment for something other than required needs; only in the last two days have I felt like socializing, shopping, or...showering.

I could certainly blame part of it on being sick. I had a fever (which is always fun) and sinus issues and now currently still carry a really sexy cough. My voice sounds like I’m smoking two cartons a day of pure arsenic. But I think part of it is due to Hawaii itself.

I didn’t love Hawaii.

I feel like I’m betraying all that is good and holy in the world even typing such an admission, but living in Las Vegas has ruined me for tourism. I don’t like being on a beach surrounded by people. The conference was fine, but my experiences weren’t overwhelming. None of the souvenirs I saw were anything I couldn’t purchase on Fremont Street; all of the streets were lined with hotels, and ABC, the Hawaii equivalent of CVS.

We went to the North Shore one day and that was tremendous. On the North Shore we were away from the people and the tourism and the clearly presented “paradise” front. I saw twenty foot waves, I jumped up on a rock barely avoiding getting splashed (demonstrating dexterity to make a gazelle jealous I tell you) and I triumphed over the Dole Pineapple Plantation Maze. It’s possible that were I on a different island than Oahu I would be happier.

But because the conference fell on the first week of school (something I didn’t realize when I originally submitted) I was worried about classes and teaching and paperwork. Because I got sick I was acutely aware of needing to get home, and wanting to be home, and wishing I weren’t in a hotel room. There also wasn’t much in the way of restaurants and I was really looking forward to some tremendous food.

It was certainly beautiful, there is no denying that. And it felt really different to be off the continental U.S. But conferences the first week of school are a bad idea. As is getting sick. I have been sick more in the past seven months than I have for the past four years. Unacceptable.

So I’m sharing these gripes in an attempt to get myself back in the space of working, thinking, and studying. Hopefully if I can make myself sit down and type all of this I can make myself sit down and do some genuine work as well.

My failure to love Hawaii as I should is a sign, I believe, of Vegas finally eating away my soul. All that was good in me lasted here for two and half years--it was a decent run.