Never You Mind

(Just a couple of disclaimers, one: this entry is not for the faint of heart.  Two: many lines in this entry are inspired and paraphrased from a many of musical artists that a dear friend of mine recently burned for me as an encouragement for these hard times I’ve been facing.  Music, does have a many healing powers – at least I believe so.  And so, I cannot take complete credit for this entry.)

“Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean.” 

― Maya Angelou

It’s often said that anger is just anger. It’s neither good. It’s neither bad. It just is. What you do with it is what matters. It's like anything else. You can use it to build or to destroy. You just have to make the choice.  Well, it was brought to my attention through a friend that I might be projecting my anger of my current situations. 

Truth be told, I know I am.  And I’m not just angry, I’m pissed and enraged; I’m one or two mishaps (depending on the day or my time of the month) from blowing a fuse.  It’s not like me, and I know it.  Try as I may to shake it off though, this anger is proving to be a stubborn parasite.     

Well in the mist of this parasitical anger I was reminded of another dime a dozen self- help books my grandparents gifted me after I graduated from high school. Through reading page after page (years ago) I learned all kinds of “truths” that I have truthfully rejected about the idea of anger’s opposite – happiness.  Like, happiness is a choice.  In part sure, but in all circumstances you can’t help but feel angry or sad – it’s natural to feel that way, so excuse me if I’m not perky, cheerful and optimistic given my circumstances!  Or another “truth” like it’s my moral or social obligation to be happy around anyone and everyone.  Surly, I’m not going to be a hot mess throughout my day, but there is only so much of a façade I can paint. 

Through silent car rides and conversations gone ape shit, I’ve deduced that this parasitic anger is a result of my circumstances that are truly out of my control. Watching my dad face and battle a kind of terminal cancer – outta my control.  An unexpected diagnosis of amnesia had by my sister and all the implications that come with it – yup outta my control.  Knowing I need to be home and available to a certain degree to my family, but still living in the trenches of what that reality is – to an extent outta my control, but I know I can’t simply run away and abandon what that is.  Frustrating? Tiresome?  You can’t believe how much it is. 

Somewhere in between dealing with the cancer battles, and taking care of my sister, or feeling tired and unsatisfied from this hamster wheel, or craving a space of my own, I’ve lost my joy; I’ve lost who I am.  And I don’t know how to get back to where I once was.  That, and this, is what has made me so irate. 

Thus from where I sit, people (be it I ask or not) have felt the need to prescribe their philosophical therapy of wisdom.  Some of which is welcomed (you know who you are), but some of which is not.  And I’m tired of the unwelcomed “wisdom,” because if all it is, is cliché mantras, and fortune cookie advice, save your breath!  It’s not doing anything for me!  If anything it’s more insulting, that my struggles would be reduced to something so simplistic.   

I don’t wanna hear you say that this will all make sense some day!  Cuz it doesn’t help me today. 

I don’t wanna hear you say that I should unite my sufferings with Christ’s sufferings!  Cuz his suffering happened more than two millennia ago, and mine are today, right now. 

I don’t wanna hear you say that my anger and sadness is a choice! Cuz sometimes a silver lining isn’t enough to make the wrongs seem right. 

Spare me the tough love talk of starving and dying kids in Africa, and how they’re able to retain their happiness!  Cuz, what deep pain are you holding right now that you can begin to compare to mine, that would justify you pulling the Africa card on me?!

Surly, there’s that great God in the sky saying, “you got to come on up! You got to hold on. You got to wait.”  To which I say, very simply,” I don’t wanna wait.  I got so much to do, I ain’t got much time.”  If it’s always darkest before the dawn, I must insist and persist; how long is that darkest?

Can you tell there’s a lot of anger in me right now?  Good.  Now, as it were, all my ranting begs a certain question.  How can anyone truly comfort those who morn, weep, cry, or suffer from anger of a situation, such as myself? 

For starters, don’t feel obligated to “fix,” those who morn or suffer, at least not right away.  Just give me a bit of your time.  That does a world of good.  You can’t imagine how many people have told me, to my face no less, “oh, I’ve been meaning to call you, your mom, your dad; or go see them for that matter.”  Well then go and do it.  What’s stopping you?  And if you think telling me all your empty should’ve(s) would’ve(s) could’ve(s) make anything, any better, you’re mistaken.  For many it’s a thirty car pile-up.  And when I start to question, they throw their little hands up.  So just stop.  Actions versus empty broken record words, talk is cheap; ‘nuff said. 

Another thing, do me a favor: minimize the hard realities.  Tell me bad news comes, and say don’t you worry, even when it lands.  Cuz good news will work its way to all them plans.  We’ll float on; good news is on the way.  And we’ll all float on, okay?  Show me some kindness and remind me that we’ll always have each other; each other’s friendship – a real kind of friendship.  Say that the better part of me is lost, but only for now. 

And yes, I’ll be the first to admit I’m stuck in a moment, and I just can’t seem to get outta it.  And if only for a little while, I can just leave my worries in the corner, ignore them for a moment, leave then in a big pile and find a simple distraction, I’ll be okay.   Help me to just laugh it off, okay?

So in the meantime, or in between time I’ll simply fix my mind on that crystal day.  Hard times ain’t gonna rule my mind; or so I try.  So for now, I try to look to the positive, and work to look past my worries, and just tread water.   

And so it goes, if you are unfortunate enough to ask me that dreaded “comforting” question: how’s the family?; or your quick fix one liners slip their way to me; or your unwarranted philosophical wisdom comes my way, I might just reply, “never you mind!” 

“Anybody can become angry — that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way — that is not within everybody's power and is not easy.” ― Aristotle

Some parts of this entry inspired by the following musical artists:  LCD Soundsystem, Modest Mouse, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Alabama Shakes, Incubus, Florence + the Machine, De La Soul, Yo La Tengo, Gillian Welch, Creed.  

Teacher Meets Student

"One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feelings. The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child."  ~ Carl Jung

For myself there were many teachers that touched on my feelings; that gave warmth to my growing soul, but none quite like one teacher.  She was the first teacher growing up that inspired me, of whose class I loved, and always think fondly of.  For me, she preceded all my other teachers I think fondly of; when I think of my significant teachers, I think of her first and foremost. 

When I was a young girl, I pined over Ms. Johnson.  A teacher that was considered “that” teacher, everyone raved about her.  My first memory of her was a school rally of sorts, while I watched her so enthusiastically rally her class, into a cheer that their loud and voluminousness cheer jokingly gusted her over, as her class smiled and laughed in agreement and comradery.  So when I came to be a 5^th and 6^th grader, I yearned and crossed all my fingers and toes to be assigned to Ms. Johnson’s class.  Much to my delight I was! 

While in her class she was everything a teacher should be, and everything a young kid could want: she was young cool and hip, she had command over the class.  She taught with conviction and passion. The self-assurance and enthusiastic presence in the classroom was infectious.   If ever we didn't meet her expectations, or misbehaved for her or any substitute there was sure terror in our bodies.  She cared about her students and was involved in school activities, and we loved her for it – all of it!  Without a doubt Ms. Johnson rattled me when I slacked off; and because I was eager for her approval, I was eager to atone for my lack of work.  She poked fun at us – myself included – and let us do the same to her.  In fact, one of us did just that in their daily journals; Ms. Johnson would be the lead character on some epic, embarrassing, and elaborate story, that this student reveled in sharing with the class (every day), and Ms. J would grin over in amusement.  Truth be told, before Ms. Johnson I don’t quite remember enjoying school quite as much as being in her class.    

So as I’ve been reconnecting with friends from my youth while acclimating back home, my longest friend to date and I tried visiting Ms. Johnson, more than a decade after leaving her class.  Well, that reunion of sorts finally happened: what a treat is was! 

What turned into a failed attempt to visit her at her current school, turned into a thread of emails back and forth trying to find a day and time to meet up and catch up.  Wouldn't you know the only good time was a classic happy hour rondevu?   As that day approached, so did my anticipation to connect with my favorite grade school teacher.  After getting off work late, and rushing to meet Ms. Johnson, I finally made it to the restaurant, not before making it inside when I heard a familiar voice say, “so do you get a detention for being late?”  What a witty ambush greeting! 

Sitting across the table during happy hour with my former teacher that taught me when I was eleven and twelve was a delightful and unreal encounter!  Over the course of the night as we shared nachos, a quesadilla, sipped our booze, and shared highlights and low-lights with each other from the past ten plus years.  Much to my pleasant surprise, commonality of many things are surprisingly shared between former student and former teacher: a parent who battled, and is now battling cancer, similar travel experiences and aspirations, parallels in family roles we both have in common, and a similar outlook and attitude on many a things.    

As I sat there across the table from my former teacher, I thought: what an awesome moment!  For a teacher who once taught me as a shy and tubby girl, to now sharing how far I’ve come in all my endeavors thus far: unreal.  For a teacher who inspired, and delighted me as a child, to now be speaking on adult terms with, and all the swear words that come with it (and without the threat of a call home): amusing!  For a teacher who taught me more than just reading, writing, and arithmetic, but how to be confidant, bold and determined, to now be sharing more in common with her than the fact that I can now drink, but that we could exchange stories of teaching, of cancer battles, of family drama, of dating and life: sublime! 

At one point over the course of appetizers and conversation, I felt a full circle of sort of feeling.  Here sitting across from me was my former teacher, who I adored (and still do), and hearing her recall and remember all these traits that was me when I was a quite girl with big rimmed glasses, but also someone who she saw took care of people around me, to hear in so many words give me affirmation of who I was then, but to affirm how far I’ve come, and the growth she saw in me that night.  To put that feeling in a word: uplifting! And for that there is much gratitude!

Before this delightful rondevu of sorts I was invited over the thread of emails back and forth to address Ms. Johnson by means of her first name.  Suffice it to say, I couldn't quite bring myself to initially.  If memory serves me right, I said that was more surreal than the thought of having “adult beverages” with her.  Yet after a night of good food, drinks, conversation and a pleasant reunion, she referred to me as a friend, that she’d enjoy doing this again.  And so it goes, I could finally make that leap from looking at her as my fond teacher Ms. Johnson, to a new mentor and friend, Gloria!  

At a Loss with the Hard Truth.

Suffice it to say that the past two weeks have been an emotional roller-coaster! 

With the news via phone call that my dad was rushed to the ER one night for 14 and a half hours, and a week later learning that further chemotherapy treatment would be in vain, and in turn hearing three more months to live (at best), I’ve been a wave of delicate emotions. 

The first news came right after an amusing phone call from a dear Philly girl friend of mine.  We caught up like we always to, with our dear added friendly factitious commentary, and spoke of things that are ahead for both of us, that we’ll be eager to hear more of later for sure.  After getting off the phone, I noticed I had a missed call from my mother.  Naturally I called back, but alas, got the voicemail.  Being a dutiful daughter, I called the next person in line who might know something – Joey, my brother.  The words, Dad, and the emergency room came out of the same breath; and I stopped!  Now, as expected I started asking lots of questions, of why?  For anyone who knows my little brother, knows that those answers are sometimes difficult for him to articulate.  Worried, and scared of the reasons, I rushed home; not before sending a mass text to friends of what I just learned!  I didn’t know how else to cope at the time.  Rapid lane changes and many tears later, I got home to find only Joe home.  Getting voicemail after voicemail from my mother’s cell, I didn’t know what to do. 

Thank God for friends who stepped up to the plate, and who were able to think more rationally then I at the moment.  A dear friend, Amy, called right away, and after a very short conversation offered and insisted with the company of Ruwanka,(another friend), to take me to the ER with my younger sister; of whom walked in the door moments after I got in. 

As we drove the 7 minute drive to Kaiser’s ER, I didn’t say a word.  It was all I could do, to hold back my tears.  After, getting in to a crowded and distraught ER (not that I’ve ever been to a chipper one), the four of us sat down and waited for my mom to come out, so we could take turns visiting with my frail and weak dad.   As I walked into my father’s ER cubical defined by a curtain, what struck me the most was how fragile he looked as he laid there on a narrow ER bed; hooked up to I.V.’s and monitors, beeping and flashing like a quite metronome.  At this moment, I thought: is this the beginning of the end?  What’s the next defining moment in this awful battle with cancer? How much more will this hurt? 

As I sat next to my dad, and listed to him speak of this ER visit, it took everything I had to stay composed.  He spoke of his doctor receiving CAT scan test results back, and noticing that his four cancer lumps had grown, and that there were even more lumps that formed as well.  Yet what alarmed the doctor the most was a blood clot in his lung.  As I sat there listening to my dad; gazing at my dad, all I thought was, how much I love him, and how much more time I wanted with him under different circumstances.  Now, as I sat in this ER cubical with my dad with a terminal illness, that is slowly taking his life, I finally – since the rapid lane change car ride back to the house – began to shed tears. 

After my time with him, I walked back to the waiting room, so as to let my younger sister have her turn with our dad.  Many moments later, she too came out, in tears, probably thinking similar things as me.  It wasn’t until the next afternoon (14 and a half hours later, and my mom staying every minuet), that my dad was finally released. 

Now, a week’s time later, both my parents come home from a doctors meeting, with grim news.  As both sisters and I sat and stood on the back porch, we listened to an update that revealed to us that the cost of further chemotherapy would outweigh the benefit – in other words live out the rest of your life.  And the rest of that life is three more months at best.  I watched my little sister shut down and break down inside, and my older sister seem confused as she struggles with being detached, and having a sense of emotional implications.  And as for myself; I pushed the emotion down, walked away from the conversation with a simple statement: “well I’ve gotta get ready for work.”  And work I went to that day, and all was fine, until I was off the clock, and I sat in my car, about to put the key in the ignition, when the grim news from the morning finally hit me.  Three months at best to live, after all the chemo, after all the hope, at best: three months.  The tears came rushing down… 

In that week, I remember breaking down and balling over the phone to a friend, as he gave me words of comfort.  In that week, I remember emotions being high, and tensions being higher as my members of my family (and I) continued with the week.  In that week I remember spending time in morning Mass and breakfast at I Hop as my friend embraced, comforted and consoled me in word and hug.  In that week I remember it finally affecting me at work, and feeling embarrassed about it too, (as I pride myself being able to detach from any stress or drama once I’m in the work place).   In that week, I remember getting chocked up about it as girl friends and I cracked open two bottles of wine. 

As I look at my dad now, he’s impressively kept a constant calm over the whole situation and illness.  He’s not afraid of death.  Talk to him about it, he’ll say he’s lived a full life: went to and graduated from college, raised a family, and did a fare about traveling.  On top of that, he calls himself a cat with nine lives, as he recounts facing death a number of times throughout his life, and lived to tell the tale.  Once as a young boy; where some rough housing went wrong, an injury was inches away from a deadly injury.  A number of times, he tells of his time when he enlisted in the U.S. Air Force, and dodged bullets while serving in the Vietnam War.  Even during his time in and after college while living in Chicago, he tells the story of when he missed a flight, and subsequently that plane crashed, and killed everyone on board.  Even a time when I can remember – while I was in high school – he suffered a massive heart attack and went into cardiac arrest, before emergency crew people revived him. 

And so it goes now, as he lives out the remainder of his life; as he looks back one his life, he’s acknowledged his some regrets or demands he’s battled, but also treasures the triumphs.  As he says: “I’ve lived a full life, I’ve made right with God, and am doing my best to make right with my children and family.”  Truly, I’m very happy for my dad – that he’s at peace with his fate.  Honestly, I don’t know if I would be as calm. 

At this point, I’d conclude with some words of wisdom; a reflection of sorts; a moral of the story if you will.  To be quite frank though, I got nothing!  The fact that I’m watching cancer take my father’s life, has me beside myself.  The emotions are real and raw, and I’m powerless to stop it.  There is anger, as I feel as though I'm being robbed of time with my dad.  There is sadness, as I watch my dad suffer, and knowing I'm losing someone I love.  And there is fear, as I wonder what will happen after he passes.  At twenty-six there’s so much that I want to do and share with my dad; things that only come at a certain point in my life; and I the fact that my father won’t be around for all those life moments breaks my heart.  It’s not fare!  So once more, if everything happens for a reason, there’s no reasoning I can find out of this thing.  

Nothing Quite Like the Present

“Knowing, may be a blessing, but it’s a difficult blessing to bare at times.”

This was the phrase I said to a acquaintance of mine in the a car ride to smuggle greenery for a certain wedding, as I expressed to her my dad’s cancer diagnosis, and the reason I had returned to Southern California in the first place.  Inevitably I gave her a reader’s digest update on his treatment… 

Nearly a month ago I braced myself for a new update of how chemotherapy was favoring my dad.  Since then, I feel more stable than I did after hearing how six rounds of chemo have favored my dad.  Initially, I was in a fog, and admittedly suppressed the disappointment of the reality of the uncertainty.  It’s not looking promising.    

Back story: when my dad received news of his final diagnosis there were three cancer lumps on his lung; after the first three chemo sessions, doctors determined that the three had indeed gone down in size, but that unexpectedly a new (larger and faster growing) one had developed.  So for chemo sessions 4, 5, and 6 doctors adjusted the chemo according.  Well, much to our dismay, adjusted chemo hadn’t reaped the results any of us had hoped for.

Even though I felt the possibility of the worst on a grim July rainy evening when I heard on a cross country phone call, stage 4; lung cancer; terminal; and 12 months to live, all in the same breath before collapsing in a sorrowful agony, I’m finding there’s really not all that much I can do to prepare myself for this roller coaster of fateful cancer updates.  It still fazes me – deeply.       

With so much at stake at this point my dad asked the doctor, “You told me in July my life expectancy was 12 months at best.  Given the treatment that I’ve gone through, can you reassess the expectancy?”  With so many factors in play, (including the risk of his cancer spreading to other parts of his body, and the fact that cancer is dangerously close to his heart) the the doctor simply shrugged his shoulders.  Not the kind of response to help calm nerves. 

At this point, my dad and mom were given the option to participate in a cancer treatment study.  The risk is, out of the three treatment groups he runs the risk of being in the placebo group; which would effectively do nothing to treat him.  The other option was to continue chemotherapy, which would be more aggressive, and in turn make him increasingly fatigued, in more in pain and extra nauseous; not something any of have an easy time with.  In truth, neither option, nor any option for that matter comes without a weighed emotional effect. 

As it turns out my folks decided in December to continue chemotherapy for my dad at the end of this month.  With time off of treatment that deems my dad exhausted much of the time, he now has a bit more energy to do things he’s always wanted to do.  So him and my mom jetted out for Europe for two weeks, with destinations including Paris, and Rome.  It’s a valuable lesson, as you look at the end of your life, what haven’t you done that you’ve always wanted to. 

Indeed as I’ve confided this roller coaster of sorts to some valued friends they have said to me all the while, but more so since the last update, “take this time to really spend with your dad; you have that time that so many others don’t,” or “clear the air, or talk about things that need closure from your relationship with your dad,” or “write heartfelt letters to your dad – anything that you’ve ever wanted to tell him, but for whatever reason haven’t,” and “get to know your dad better; find out things about his life that you don’t know yet”

Which brings me back to my first statement of this post, “Knowing, may be a blessing, but it’s a difficult blessing to bare at times.”  Am I grateful for this time to spend quality time with my dad; yes.  Does it make the fateful and very possible fate easier; no.  Am I eager to clear the air with my dad on certain issues; sure.  Does it make it watching him suffer under treatment to stretch his life a bit longer easier; not at all.  Do I want to write a heartfelt something to him; definitely!  Do I appreciate seeing my dad overly fatigued and in pain as treatment side effects lingers; hell no!  Nonetheless, I am blessed to have this time to make right with my dad, because the truth is so many others loose someone they love suddenly, without warning, and the grief of should’a would’a could’a often haunts.   

As the continuation of treatment lumes ahead, there’s nothing that is more important than this time, right now.  

Feeling Nostalgic

It’s not often I’m provoked to think of my days since, from a recent flick.  Typically a song might conjure emotions from a significant moment; a picture will incite reminiscing memories from times past; or a long lost friend will rouse me to think of “the good old days.”  But a movie?  Never!   

Some time ago I went to see “The Silver linings Playbook,” starring Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence.  Admittingly, the factor that drew me in was the hunky and charming, blue eyed babe Mr. Cooper – and yes that it appeared to be a classic chick flick!  But after watching the plot I left with a number of thoughts. 

One being Cooper and Lawrence are far too far apart in age to be stage mates.  Two being that I was pleased to see REAL struggle and tragedy in a main stream movie I wasn’t expecting; and to see the personal fight of the two lead roles.  It wasn’t a typical chick flick – yes the guy got the girl in the end – but for the better part there was real ups and downs, and hard struggle, and it wasn’t pretty.  Isn’t that the reality most of us live in too?  Real life struggle!  Then again thou, aside from all that, I felt nostalgic for my once Philadelphia home – as it’s set in the city of brotherly love! 

At the start of the movie there are classic shots of freeway signs and familiar street exits; spans and shots of the center city skyline with its iconic buildings that I often walked by, and all I found myself doing was thinking of my experiences there in the East Coast, in Philly. Riding down 95 to the Sports Complex for a boisterous Phillys game; an iconic Philadelphia pastime!  Taking the El (subway/elevated train that runs east and west through the city) through center city and walking through and past the iconic sky scrapers as I meet friends and go about my appointed rounds, run my errands or seek some clarity as I walk the coble stoned streets. Feeling the chill of the autumn and winter air as the seasons change, as I walk or run the lovely Kelly Drive, or quaint sub neighborhoods was always held promise of a picturesque seasonal site.  It all was coming back to me: the moments, the memories; the people and the places. 

Above all the sites and hot spots of that city, and as I was watching and listening to the actors portray this Philadelphia, I found myself missing the personality of people in Philadelphia the most.

I often will tell people of my time in Philly, and remark how hard edged Philadelphians are; how they’ll just tell it like it is; they’re often and sometimes guarded and difficult to get to know; and sarcasm is common place in conversation.  As I was first being aquatinted to this east coast town, I can recall having somewhat of time adjusting to the sense of people.  People would often tell me, "you’re so Californian; you’re so easy going and friendly."   And I’d intern say, "yea, well how come everyone else around seems so hard to warm up to??"  Into and after my second year living my life in Philly, I found myself establishing some more friends and roots; I hadn’t really stopped to think how these hard edge people had decided that I was alright; I hadn't fully acknowledged this till recently. 

The truth is Philadelphians are real salt of the earth kind of folk; down to earth, loyal and authentic kind of people.  They aren't fake – if they don’t like you, they’re not afraid to make it clear.  They’re honest – sometimes to a fault.  They’re tough to get to know, (real guarded) but if one befriends you, they got your back!  It’s evident they've accepted you when they sarcastically poked fun at you; friendly sarcasm is common place in conversation.     

In many ways – as difficult as it was to get use to initially – it did me a world of good!  Friends in my home turf at times will say I come off abruptly upfront, or abrasive.  Or situations or people don’t get under my skin as much – I’m tougher skinned. 

Besides or despite the fact I know I have some pretty loyal friends back East.  Like my friend Seth mentioned to me over the phone as I was expressing how much I missed my Philadelphian folks, “even though friends move geographically, really, we aren't going anywhere.”  It gives me comfort.  I know it to be true too when another close friend – Chris – and I can be real with each other with how things are – on a day to day basis.  Or when yet another close friend – Colleen – and I can chit chat, gab, and make light heart of life’s tough situations for close to two hours – I know I’m not going very far from their lives & hearts. 

All these memories; all these sites; the people and thoughts cause me to stop and think of what a colorful and exiting life I've lived thus far.  In all, I am appreciative.  And so, as I think of "the good old days," I also think of the good old days before the Philly old days: my time in San Francisco, abroad, and before that even.  The cliché saying rains true: appreciate the moment.  And so, even though I miss my former life elsewhere, I have been welcomed with open arms by many a friends and family alike to this new phase of my life; this new chapter in my life.  In some time, I’m sure I’ll likely look back and reminisce on this time as well.  

A Bucket List of Sorts

Since being home, and witnessing my dad under the affects of cancer and chemotherapy, it has inevitably forced me to think of my own life, and my mortality.  So I felt compelled to write up a bucket list for myself.  Much of my bucket list is traveling, as I do have the "bug," but much of it also reveals a sort of purpose filled desire.  It should be a fun read, and hopefully my sharing might inspire others to do the same.

(Listed in no particular significance or order)

1.  Sky diving 

2.    Create a photo scrapbook of all the stages in my life

3.  Be part a campaign of sorts

4.  Run a marathon (done and check - twice over baby!)

San Francisco Marathon, August 2010!  

Philadelphia Marathon November 2011!  

5.     Befriend a once thought of enemy

6.     Teach overseas

7.     Give a motivational/inspiring talk

8.     Help start an organization

9.     Save a life

10. Have my 15 minutes of fame on T.V. 

11. Complete a triatholon (of any length)

12. Write a book

13. Climb one of the 7 highest points in the world

14. Learn how to Tango & Salsa dance....well!

15. Pick up on Modern Jazz dance - again

16. Learn one other language 

17. Go para-sailing

18. Water ski

19. Witness a miracle 

20. Meet someone famous (who I actually like)

21. Get a Masters Degree

22. Go on a hot air balloon ride

23. Go to an Olympic game

24. Fall in love

25. Teach someone how to empower himself or herself  

26. Conquer all my demons

27. Furnish one room (at least) of all recycled material; with my own pizzazz too of course. 

28. Bungee Jumping (done and check)

29. Be part of a relief effort 

30. Hop on a boat through the Panama Canal 

31. Tour Lima

32. Zip line through the Canopy in Costa Rica 

33. Take a picture with a Lama at Machu Picchu 

34. Go to the southernmost tip of South America - Cape Horn

35. Explore Cape Point

36. Go quad biking in the Egyptian Desert from Sharm el Sheikh 

37. Go on an African Safari

38. Ride a camel while visiting the Ancient Egyptian pyramids

39. Dine on the Nile 

40. Sightsee in Israel

41. Float in the Dead Sea - and live to tell the tale

42. Experience Moroccan food and culture

43. Search for Africa's "Big Five"

44. Tour Dubai 

45. Tour Jordan's famous landmarks

46. Experience a Tea Ceremony in Asia

47. Walk the Great Wall of China (not the whole length of course) 

48. Tour picturesque Chinese towns and villages

49. River boat cruise to see the Ayutthaya Temples in Thailand 

50. Tour the Hong Kong Island 

51. Sightsee in Tokyo

52. Travel around Japan by train

53. Ride an elephant in Bangkok

54. See the Giant Buddha on Lantau Island

55. Visit the Elephant Orphanage Sanctuary in Kuala Lumpur 

56. Take a bullet train to Mt. Fuji 

57. Stand on Istanbul soil while looking across the Sea of Marmara into the Asian Continent

58. Explore Spain’s medieval capital, Toledo

59. Tip-toe through tulips from Amsterdam

60. Visit Stone Hedge

61. Sightsee in Barcelona

62. Go to Switzerland's High Alps 

63. Visit the Royal Castles of Neuschwanstein and Linderhof

64. Go on a day trip to Capri (done and check)

Study Abroad Housemates 2006!  

65. Take a gondola ride in Venice (done and check)

I think I was the one taking the picture.  =) 

After the gondola ride, we took a bike ride on one of the smaller islands right off of Venice.   

66. Visit Normandy

67. See Michelangelo’s David (done and check)

Waist up; keeping it PG rated!  Look at those abs...

68. Explore Paris’ top museums and attractions

69. Take a Day Trip to Pompeii (done and check)

Study Abroad 2006 group.  Day trip to Pompeii.  Entering a theater.

Streets of Pompeii.  

On top of Mt. Vesuvius! 

70. Tour Tuscany & the Leaning Tower of Pisa (done and check)

Amalfi Coast, Italy.  

A small village in Italy - during mardi gras! 

Hadrian's Villa

More of Hadrian's Villa!

71. Explore Ancient Rome and the Colosseum (done and check)

Last night Abroad at the Trevi Fountain.  Housemates!! 

A night out in Trastevere - a local spot in Rome!

Late night at the Spanish Steps!

The Colosseum! 

The Colosseum on Good Friday - stations of the cross!

72. Skip the Lines in Vatican City (done and check)

The Vatican!

Peekaboo!

Inside St. Peter's Basilica - breathtaking! 

Laying out on St. Peter's Square - yup that's me.  

On top of St. Peter's Dome. 

73. Explore the Giant Redwoods at Muir Woods (done and check)

SFSU Newman, hiking retreat 2009! 

SFSU reunion of sorts - 2011

Me!

74. See a Luau in Hawaii (done and check)...sadly no pictures, as these are all on conventional film and prints; and just haven't gotten around to scanning 'em.  ***waawaa***

75. Day Trip from Vancouver to Whistler

76. Party on the Strip in Vegas

77. See a Broadway Show

78. Day Trip to Quebec City from Montreal

79. Day Trip to Victoria from Vancouver

80. See the Aurora Borealis (Northern Lights)

81. Climb Half Dome in Yosemite

82. Go Wine Tasting in Napa and Sonoma

83. See a Cirque du Soleil Show (done and check)...nada pics of this either, BUT twas spectacular!!!

84. Go Sightseeing in Washington DC (done and check)

Capitol Hill - Spring 2011.

Lincoln Monument - SSJ Mission Corps Volunteers.  Spring 2011

Zee White House. 

The Washington Monument.  

85. Niagara Falls

86. Go Sightseeing in New York City (done and check)

Central Park - winter 2012. 

Times Square - October 2010

Statue of Liberty - October 2010

Liberty Island, looking at the Manhattan Skyline - October 2010 

Times Square at night with some Jesuit friends of mine - Winter 2012

Brooklyn Bridge, - Feb 2012 

87. Visit Kangaroo Island

88. See an Opera at the Sydney Opera House

89. Cruise Sydney Harbour

90. Ride the Kuranda Scenic Railway

91. Ride the Puffing Billy Steam Train

92. Explore Green Island along the Great Barrier Reef 

93. See the Penguin Parade in Australia

94. Sightsee in Sydney

95. Tour the Great Ocean Road in Melbourne 

96. Experience Waitomo Caves & Rotorua in New Zealand

97. Tour the Central Australian Desert

98. Tour the Sights of New Zealand 

99. See the Australian Outback, and learn how to throw a boomerang

100.  Scooba Dive or Snorkel in the Great Barrier Reef 

Yes, I know I put items on my bucket list that I’ve already done or accomplished – so what?!  Besides, I’m sure some of those I’ve done, others’ would put it on their bucket list, so I wanna give myself credit knowing that I’d put them on regardless.  Don’t judge!  =)

( 14 down, 86 items to go! )

Here’s to living!