In Search Of Rural Spaces
I wanted rural and I got rural. I’m in the jungle of the Big Island (also known as “rural Hawaii”). That phrase; isn’t all of Hawaii, by geographic objectivity, rural? Hawaii is like the lost child of the map.
It almost seems sad, the way it stands so remote from the rest of the world, so isolated from all the activity of the mainlands. Just this silent little crater of volcanic rock.
When you’re in rural New York; you’re really not in a rural area. You’re just a few hours by car from various metropolitan cities. But when you take a five hour flight across the ocean to a little rock in the Pacific, then you drive four more hours on oneway roads, you are actually somewhere rural. Though, when you think about it, the Earth itself is rather rural in the universe. So maybe everywhere is rural.
This loneliness is good.
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Meeting the right person on a double date, where your shared sense of humor and maybe-a-little-obsessed love of social media brings you together instantly, sounds pretty ideal. Unless, of course, it’s the other person’s date you’re falling for.
My childhood world was a fraternity house gone adolescent — compounded by the death of my mom when I was 14. And while I knew love in abundance, I didn’t know a thing about girls.
I had fallen into a deep sleep and entered into a realm that transcended dreams or realities. I found myself in a room surrounded by four white walls.
4. I would rather listen to an entire album by Rebecca Black than hear your voice.