So after starting this blog in 2008, I think I posted twice. Maybe. One of which I deleted. I'm such a slacker.
Since then, a lot has changed. People were married, babies were born, flash fiction was written. Although I let it go for a while, I'm back.
TODAY'S PROMPT: This one's appropriate as I anticipate the dazzling display that will soon light up the Honolulu night sky: Independence Day.
Isn't that a great theme (not to mention, name) for a flash?
Wht immediately springs to mind is someone anticipating separation from his/her partner--either by divorce or murder....
Monday, July 4, 2011
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Firefly Has a Freak Flag
I live in Hawaii, which just might be the sunniest place on earth. What, you say? Paradise!
Well, yeah. Don't get me wrong, I am lucky, and wouldn't dream of complaining. Especially not to family living in New England. Especially not during their 6 months of winter. (Sorry, Mom.)
But here's my secret: I don't like the sun. It makes me sneeze, and blink like a hung-over vole; after 30 seconds of exposure I start to wilt. I spend a lot of time scurrying around in search of shade. Bet you didn't know that if you stand at the right angle at the right time of day, even a slim crosswalk light pole casts a fair amount of shadow. Pathetic, no?
So I've lived here for 12 years, avoiding the sun, and dreaming of the Pacific Northwest (rain, mist and clouds, oh my!). When I first got here I'd been living in Japan, so I actually had something called a "higasa" (sun umbrella) that I toted around with me. I was a grad student at UH at the time, and if that wasn't the best way to fly the freak flag, I'm not sure what else I could have done. Stripped off all of my clothing and smeared zinc oxide over me like war paint, perhaps? Plus, have you ever tried to carry multiple Japanese dictionaries, textbooks, and a higasa while commuting to and from campus on a bus? Let me tell you, it's not a pretty sight. My then-boyfriend refused to even walk next to me when I carried that sucker.
Anyway, I lost the higasa. Permanently. But every now and then I see a little old Japanese lady with one, and I get very tempted to run after her and cop some of that delicious shade. I'm controlling that impulse. For now. But all bets are off when I hit 55. (Isn't that when AARP starts sending you a free subscription to their magazine?)
Ah, there's a reason why fireflies light up in the dark. They can.
Well, yeah. Don't get me wrong, I am lucky, and wouldn't dream of complaining. Especially not to family living in New England. Especially not during their 6 months of winter. (Sorry, Mom.)
But here's my secret: I don't like the sun. It makes me sneeze, and blink like a hung-over vole; after 30 seconds of exposure I start to wilt. I spend a lot of time scurrying around in search of shade. Bet you didn't know that if you stand at the right angle at the right time of day, even a slim crosswalk light pole casts a fair amount of shadow. Pathetic, no?
So I've lived here for 12 years, avoiding the sun, and dreaming of the Pacific Northwest (rain, mist and clouds, oh my!). When I first got here I'd been living in Japan, so I actually had something called a "higasa" (sun umbrella) that I toted around with me. I was a grad student at UH at the time, and if that wasn't the best way to fly the freak flag, I'm not sure what else I could have done. Stripped off all of my clothing and smeared zinc oxide over me like war paint, perhaps? Plus, have you ever tried to carry multiple Japanese dictionaries, textbooks, and a higasa while commuting to and from campus on a bus? Let me tell you, it's not a pretty sight. My then-boyfriend refused to even walk next to me when I carried that sucker.
Anyway, I lost the higasa. Permanently. But every now and then I see a little old Japanese lady with one, and I get very tempted to run after her and cop some of that delicious shade. I'm controlling that impulse. For now. But all bets are off when I hit 55. (Isn't that when AARP starts sending you a free subscription to their magazine?)
Ah, there's a reason why fireflies light up in the dark. They can.
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