After living in Missouri for two and a half years, there are still a lot of things here I catch myself wondering.

Like, why the Sperrys? What's up with casserole? And how can you all SERIOUSLY choose to put up with god-awful weather for over half of the calendar year when there are warmer, clearer skies just beyond the horizon a little west of here?

These are some things I don't know. But what I DO know - and have known - about the mainland since the move is the typical and widespread aversion to spam.



I said it, spam. The weird, slimy, mystery mincemeat. If there's anything I do know, it's that people here don't like it. They equate it to practically dogfood. If you're eating spam, you're struggling and you clearly need help - is the gist I pick up, anyway.

Well, what if I told you people in Hawaii LOVED it? So much so that's it's sort of a local staple?

It's true. Spam in Hawaii is so commonplace that if you move there and say you don't like it, it's likely you'll have a pretty hard time fitting in. It's everywhere. A favorite is a snack called spam musubi, which is a local twist on traditional Japanese musubis made with nori (dried seaweed), furikake (garnish) and rice - just with spam on top. It's a great example of how cultures truly converge on the islands to make new products unique to Hawaii and the people there.

Japanese musubi

Hawaii spam musubi

 They're so common, in fact, that they're sold in virtually every street-corner 7-11 I've ever seen on O'ahu. I used to pick them up for breakfast or lunch on my way to school in the mornings.

Spam musubis sold in 7-11

On top of that, spam is even on the local Mcdonald's menu, typically sold in a plate lunch with other island favorites: portuguese sausage, japanese white rice, scrambled eggs and shoyu (soy sauce).

On the night of my 12th birthday, I remember my mom taking me to a McDonalds' drive-thru.

She had the whole day planned - along with my two best friends at the time, we played glow putt at the mall, had cake (probably chocolate), and had just had the BEST dinner of our lives at my favorite sushi restaurant. But what crystallized this particular birthday in memory for me wasn't exactly the fish.

It was the trip to Mcdonald's soon after that.

We wanted vanilla soft-serve, but my mom was afraid that giving ice cream in cones to three hyper 12-year-olds, way past our bedtimes, I should add, would be a bad deal. So she drove up to the monitor and asked for ice cream in cups, but was having trouble explaining what she wanted.

"In cups...so you want a sundae then," the employee at the other end asserted. "No," my mom repeated. All she wanted was plain vanilla ice cream in cups, but after a few minutes of back-and-forth, the employee, clearly agitated at this point, wasn't having it. He requested we drive up to the window and talk to him face to face.

We rolled our window down and it was then he asked: "Is there anyone in the car who can actually speak English here?"

My friends in the back seat looked at each other. I was speechless. And my mother burst out in tears.

To put things into context, my mom is an immigrant from Okinawa, Japan. She moved to the United States after meeting my California-born dad, and even after their subsequent divorce, has continued to live here ever since. For the sake of raising her three American kids - the youngest of which is now a senior in high school - she learned English in a country that was not her home. To me, she's superwoman. She's the strongest, bravest, hardest-working, most ambitious woman I have ever had the pleasure to know. But many people in this country don't see that. To them, she's just a heavy accent and fragmented sentences - a burden to speak to and too much work to get to know.

From an early age, I saw this. But it wasn't until that night at McDonald's that I really saw the scope of how difficult things were, and would continue to be, for her, living and raising her kids in a country of intolerant people. Surrounded by people too frustrated and closed-minded to take the time to communicate, empathize, and understand.

Similarly, it feels like - for whatever reason at all - many people in this country tend to equate the quality of someone's english to the level of their intelligence, and make snap judgments accordingly. My mom has spent decades, quite frankly, taking shit from people who just don't get it.

So now that we're here, I'll take the opportunity to make a few things clear:

Contrary to popular belief, english proficiency ≠ intelligence. 
Immigrants are people too - with kids, with taxes, with jobs, just like everyone else.
And they deserve to be here and be treated with patience and respect, just like everyone else.

I write this right after my 22nd birthday. On deadline for (likely) the most complicated story my teammates and I have ever had our hands on, I didn't have much time to celebrate it this year, and it was easy to get caught up in the stress of everything. But my mom, being the person she is, sent flowers for delivery, and all I can really think about is how lucky I am to have a woman like her in my life.



My mom is beautiful. She's funny. She's independent. She's an immigrant. And she's undeniably, incomprehensibly, 100% the smartest person I know.

Self care is important.

It's really, really important. Almost as important as not forgetting to fill in your brows during your morning makeup routine. Or remembering not to leave the house without at least a little mascara and a swipe of lipstick. And remembering never, never, never to wear white after Labor Day. That, my friends, is a big one.

Haha, kidding. But really though, all jokes aside, let's be real here - self care is SO important, and this is something so many young, hard working people in today's fast-paced world tend to forget. I'm definitely not an exception. If anything, I exemplify everything that happens when - for the sake of work, school, and more work - you ignore self-care completely. This isn't something I've been able to particularly hide very easily, if at all, especially when the culmination of everything I stress out about tends to reach it's breaking point in (and I mean this in terms of myself and everyone unfortunate enough to be around me) awkwardly public spaces.

It doesn't help my case that I've always been one to wear my heart on my sleeve. Once I reach a certain zone of comfort with you, I'll tell you everything about myself, past, present and future, whether you're interested or not. This blog itself is HIGHLY personal, and there's a reason why. I have never been the type to run away from anything, to hide anything, or to give up. I have always seen life as a constant progression rife with hidden opportunities to expand and grow, and because of that, sometimes it feels like I'm a different person every day, and it's difficult to summarize myself to others when they ask. Sometimes I feel like a person who's lives a thousand shallow mini-lives, each so unique from the last, with so many others left to go. Does that make sense? Hopefully that makes sense.

But given that, there are a few things I DO know. When I mess up, I always own up to it. Because honey, you know I don't know everything. I know I don't know everything. So why would I act like I know everything, especially when life exists to afford us the opportunity to make mistakes and grow?
Life is hard, shit happens. But you get up and learn (albeit sometimes slowly).
And never, under any circumstance, do I take the "easy way" toward anything in my life. This, I know, is something about myself that's never changed.

To put things into context, as always, I feel the need to mention my upbringing in Hawaii. First of all, anyone who's anyone knows that public education in Hawaii is atrocious. I haven't looked at the statistics, but I feel like it's somehow safe to assert just through personal experience that Hawaii's public education system, if ranked among others nationally, would tank somewhere in the bottom five.

Anyway, the point is, public schools there suck - so much so, in fact, that anyone serious about making something out of their lives (that DOESN'T include working at 7-11 for 20 years and pitching a tent on the beach and pretending dreadlocks are suddenly cool) leaves. We get the hell out of there. The system sucks SO much, actually, that instead of choosing to go to a public high school for four years 30 minutes away (which would have been easy), I chose to commute three hours by bus - three transfers - every morning to attend a small, private high school across the island. I woke up at 4 am every single day for four years. For the sake of an education I was proud of and believed in. And honestly, if you ask me, I think it was worth it.

This might explain why even under extremely inconvenient and difficult circumstances, I made the choice to come to Missouri and pursue my dream career in journalism - flabbergasting to some, I know. I traded an ocean view and palm tree silhouettes for Sperry's and cornfields (also, since we're on the subject- Sperry's are ugly. Everyone knows that. I'm convinced everyone in Missouri is in on some sort of conspiracy to make them look super trendy and cool, but anyway, there's that). And honestly, if you ask me, I think it's worth it.

In the end, however, I think it's still possible to prioritize my career and schoolwork while also maintaining some level of self-care. This is something, I'll admit, I've lost sight of. For me, that's a really easy thing to do. But from here on out, I'm making it a goal for self care to be something I prioritize, at least some of the time. Because whether I like it or not, self-care is important. Almost as important as remembering not to wear white after Labor Day.
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In other news, I've already started my journey to a healthier, happier me. I ordered coldstone delivery while pumping out an essay at midnight last night, and took the opportunity I had covering a KBIA story this sunny Saturday afternoon to actually stop and smell the flowers for once. Who knew this campus was so pretty!

This week, we're talking about Hawaiian pizza. Well not JUST Hawaiian pizza so much as Hawaiian food in general, but Hawaiian pizza just so happens to really grind my gears.

It's always flabbergasted me. 'What makes Hawaiian pizza, 'Hawaiian'?" I always ask.
Is it the pineapple? For whatever reason, I know the fruit has come to symbolize the state from places near and far - so much so that I had someone call me "Pineapple" for my entire first year at Mizzou - but surely people know it grows in other places. It isn't even a fruit native to the islands. Surely, by now, someone would have pointed that out.

Maybe people are getting "luau" undertones with the pineapple-and-pork combo. That's always a possibility. Well, my friends, if that's the case - let me tell you now. If you think Hawaiian pizza comes anything close to a luau just because of some measly chunks of ham and cold fruit scattered here and there, you really need to get out of town and book a trip to Hawaii Nei. Slapping pineapple on a dish doesn't magically whip it up into something exotic, tropical, OR Hawaiian. And don't even get me started on "Hawaiian" punch!

That being said, I get it. Meeting someone from Hawaii in this part of the country is rare, so it might be hard to know the difference between "Hawaiian" food and Hawaiian food. Today, let me take a second to list off a few of my favorite local dishes - and surprise! They're all sans pineapple.

I could talk about Hawaiian food all day, so for the sake of time (and my stomach), let's start with the traditional Hawaiian plate lunch.


Clockwise, from the top left:

1. Ahi Poke
Ahh, poke. A sushi lover's dream, and stuff I wish I could bring back to Missouri with me every time I leave home. Essentially, it's raw tuna (ahi) cut up into bite-sized chunks, typically served either in a bowl on top of white rice, as shown above, or as an appetizer. There are many variations of the dish, some with limu (seaweed), Hawaiian salt and sesame seeds, but my favorite has to be plain poke with shoyu (soy sauce) and maui onions to taste.

2. Haupia 

Haupia is basically coconut pudding. Sometimes garnished with crushed macadamia nuts, it's usually served as a side dish and makes for a nice, fluffy dessert after a huge plate lunch. Walking around the islands, you'll see it baked into cakes and pies - McDonald's even has their own variation! (I'll talk more about the beauty of McDonald's in Hawaii next week).

3. Lomi Lomi Salmon


Another delicious side dish - pretty straightforward and super easy to make! It consists of freshly chopped tomatoes, chopped raw salmon, green onion, maui onion, and Hawaiian salt to taste. A personal favorite of mine, of course, but when it comes to Hawaiian food, I'm pretty non-discriminatory. :-)

4. Laulau


It might not look appetizing to many tourists, but it sure is good. Laulau is a classic Hawaiian dish where fish or meat is wrapped in taro leaves and steamed to fall-off-the-bone perfection. The protein in the center can be anything from chicken and pork to butterfish, and is typically served with a side of white rice and other yummy appetizers.

5. White Rice


I guess you could say this doesn't necessarily count because it isn't Hawaiian per say, but steamed white rice is such a staple in Hawaii, I thought I'd add it anyway. Locals will eat it nearly every single day. "Add rice and anything's a meal," my mom always said - and she hasn't been wrong yet!

So, there you go! Real Hawaiian food. Next time you host a luau or a Hawaiian-themed party, add a little authenticity and throw in a few of these fun dishes. No pineapple necessary!