Hello? Aloha? Hola? Who am I? How did I end up here? What does it all mean?
The name’s Michael & I’ve spent 30 years on this plane. Truth be told, after about six years old, I’ve spent majority of my life on autopilot. The ups and downs of it all merely left me in a dream state. It wasn’t until 20 years later, at 26 years old, when my soul finally woke up. I looked around, blinked, and exclaimed, “Holy shit…I’m awake!” Till this day, I have no idea what happened…but whatever it was, I was left to be eternally grateful. This is my journey to create and discover meaning to this 3D concept, after aimlessly galivanting throughout majority of my life. Bear with me, I’m really only four years old.
And so, it goes…
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I’m the second born child to my parents. I have a sister, five years older than me, and eventually a brother, 12 years younger. I was the only planned one. The black sheep of my family. It was through my family dynamic when I first noticed something was…different about me. I wasn’t quite like them. I could never put my finger on it, but the feeling was blatantly obvious. I loved them with my whole heart…but I could never understand why I always felt as though I just didn’t belong.
I was born & raised in Hawai’i, on the east side of the island of Kaua’i. The Garden Island. The Stagnant Paradise.
Me: Have you ever seen the movie “Lilo & Stitch”?
Them: Yes
Me: It’s the island where Stitch crashes. Where Lilo lives.
Them: Ohhhhh, why would ever move from there?
Because I needed something different. I needed variety. I needed excitement. I needed to miss it. I needed to grow.
I think we all understand, being born & raised somewhere is the polar opposite of visiting somewhere.
I never felt like I belonged there. Something always felt missing. It was home, yet it wasn’t.
Them: I bet you did a lot of surfing
Me: No, not really (not at all actually)
My days were spent in front of the TV screen. Later, as a teenager, on Myspace.
Growing up, Disney was my life. I was convinced I’d be Maleficent or Cruella one day. Eventually, I decided I wanted to be as perfect as Marcia Brady. I’d run home after middle school to catch reruns of “The Brady Bunch” on TV Land, then on Myspace for hours on end, creating accounts for every single Brady kid – especially focusing on Marica. By the evening time, I was hanging out in my garage, sitting with my uncle, listening to The Byrds, The Mamas and the Papas, or Jefferson Airplane. If I wasn’t doing that then I was most likely watching Leatherface collect teenagers for his next barbecue, Carrie exact revenge on her bullies, or Freddy stalk innocent bystanders in their dreams. I devoted my life to preserving the memory of Sharon Tate, before becoming one of Lady Gaga’s devout Little Monsters, by the time I was in high school.
It was in these moments when I didn’t feel so out of place for once.