Successfully Avoiding Anything Planned
Archives: Hawaii
Recording the HaHa
For the past month my behavior has been odd. I’ve been mumbling words to myself. Missing exits while driving. Spacing out while spacing out. Pacing like an Umpa Lumpa in skinny jeans. Visualizing each beat of a story about being at a party where a tiny bread crumb projected from my mouth and landed directly into the tear duct of the woman I was talking too. A tragic tale of dating dreams crushed by rogue bruschetta.
Why relive such a mortifying moment (over and over and over)? This is a question everyone who performs comedy must answer and it’s not an easy one. While I’m still seeking why I’m compelled to stand in front of friends and strangers and share these bits and pieces of my life for their entertainment, one thing was certain: I was recording a comedy album on October 23rd and I needed to mumble my way into cohesiveness.
Camping @ Bellows Beach
I’m not what one would call an outdoorsman. I mean sure I could grow out my beard, wear flannel and carry an ax with the best of them but I’d probably fall over backwards trying to chop down a tree. I’ll leave the wood chopping’ to the pros. Can’t say I’ve ever been much of a camper. Camping reminds me of poison ivy. Poison ivy reminds me of the time I thought I had acne on my nose and used an oxy pad all over only to wake up the next day with my eyes swollen shut and entire face enflamed in itch. It wasn’t acne. Spent the next two weeks of that summer soaking my head in oatmeal baths and yelling at that Quaker guy on the label. What are you smiling at with your big hat!? To this day I can’t look him in the eyes without scratching my cheeks.
Navigate
I’ve heard stories of Native Hawaiians who navigated their canoes by the stars. They found direction by studying the sun, ocean swells, and the flight patterns of seabirds. I’m lucky if I can find the Big Dipper. It’s incredible they learned to use elements in nature to map specific destinations. I’ll try to remember this next time I yell at my GPS for re-calculating when I miss a turn. Continue reading
St. Baldrick’s
Walking into my first St. Baldrick’s fundraising event for childhood cancer research I didn’t know what to expect. I just knew by the end of it I’d be bald. It’s one of those things that sounds awesome until you realize, oh wait, I’m actually doing this. This is happening. This was a great idea about a month ago when it was WAY in the future. Now I’m about to go all Uncle Fester upstairs and there’s nothing I can do to stop this shave train. Then I walked into the St. Baldrick’s registration room at Dave and Buster’s and everything changed. Continue reading
Kalaupapa
When I first heard the word “Kalaupapa” I wondered why someone was telling me to call my father. I never could have imagined the depth of history, torment, heroism, and bravery this place encompasses. Kalaupapa, meaning “Flat Plain,” is on the island of Moloka‘i and beginning in 1866 under King Kamehameha V, was the site where people with leprosy were forced to relocate. Separated from the rest of Moloka’i by magnific cliffs and once only accessible by boat, this peninsula became home to those with what’s now called Hansen’s Disease. They were sent away to be quarantined from the rest of society. For over a century, men, women, and children were permanently torn from their families and friends and sent to live in isolation. Continue reading
Solitude on the North Shore
I used to only associate the word solitude with monks and monasteries. Silent retreats where you sleep in a small room with nothing more than a bible and a view of deer sipping from a babbling brook. And that somewhat depressing painting of a white-bearded man praying over soup. Solitude sounded more like getting punished for staying out after curfew than a spiritual practice.
I’ve come to understand solitude as simply time set aside to recharge. An observance that promotes rest, peace, and renewal. It sounds so easy, yet I often neglect my need for it. It doesn’t have to be quiet or involve wearing a brown hooded tunic, as nice as it’d be not to have to choose your clothes everyday. Continue reading
Stand-Up to Cancer
I’ll never forget seeing a newspaper article several years ago about a group of fifth-grade boys who shaved their heads so their friend with cancer wouldn’t feel out of place. One of their 11-year old classmates went through chemotherapy and lost all his hair so the kids rallied together to ensure no one could tell who was sick. How cool is that. I remember being pretty obsessed with my hair at that age, meticulously shaping my jr. mullet with neon green Dep hair gel. I used Aqua Net if it was windy. #Confession is good for the soul. This was the 80’s man, it could of been worse, I knew guys with perms. Continue reading
Hawaii Sketch Fest
“Hey, I’d like to pretend to have a heart attack while a room full of friends and strangers watch for their entertainment,” said no one ever. Well, that’s exactly what I did this weekend and I have to say it was quite liberating. Most everyone’s biggest fear is dying on stage and now that I’ve gotten that out of the way I can move forward. Continue reading
How Improv Makes Me a Better Chaplain
In November of 2009, I became a full-time hospital chaplain and it’s no accident that by January 2010 I was enrolled in improv comedy classes. I think it was about week two…or hour two…that I realized I was going to need a healthy outlet to bring life balance to the intensity of the job. I was going to need a good dose of self-care as they encourage in the healthcare biz. I’m not sure being on an improv team called The Homewreckers is what they had in mind. Continue reading
Meanwhile, Back in Manoa…
Eight and half years ago I moved from Chicago to Honolulu and I’m still discovering new things about the island. I’ve been married the same amount of time and I’m still learning how to be a husband. The moment I start to think I’m an expert is when I’m reminded that no, indeed I’m not. These are mostly verbal reminders from my wife that contain the words, “you are not” and “an expert” for clarity purposes.
It’s amazing the conversations you get into as a married couple. The other night Christi and I got into a passionate discussion about who was better at journaling: Doogie Howser or Mr. Belvedere.