check the box.

Yep, I'm one of those people. People who are candidates to purchase something like a book called List Yourself. I like to make lists. Not shopping lists or to-do lists (maybe I should), but lists that provide context to something, or help define my interests, or help me see the big or small picture, or just because they make me laugh. Technically I own List Yourself, but it was a gift and truth is, I prefer more organic, corner-of-a-napkin kind of list making (just sayin' in case you are thinking of buying me another book in this category for my birthday). My sister-in-law, with her heart and mind in the right place for sure, bought me Where Will You be in 5 Years? Crap, I don't even plan five weeks in advance, let alone five years. If this blog survives, we'll all know where I am.

Some of the lists I create end up being pretty funny, but always illuminating. I've done lists around reasons why someone is in my life, music that makes me happy or reminds me of something/someone, foods I can't live without, experiences I still want to have, experiences I will never do again, men I've dated, pet peeves (partially linked to why the word 'dated' is past-tense), favorite restaurants and why...and the lists go on (wah wah, bad joke). Sometimes I get really nerdy and challenge myself to use just verbs, just one word, or only stream-of-conscious adjectives.

Maybe I need more hobbies.

In the past couple of years, the catch phrase, "bucket list" has been thrown around a lot. I like the idea (even though I'm not a big planner and hopefully 'the bucket' is a long, long way off) but I'm wondering how grand the idea needs to be to qualify for a list of this magnitude. I mean, a list of things you want to see, experience or do BEFORE YOU DIE?! Damn. Am I supposed to be that ridiculously grand in my pursuits? What about things like: remember to put your garbage cans out on Sunday night for four consecutive weeks? Or, go to Costco and not spend $300 when you only went in for toilet paper? Or, try the GFI button before calling the handyman to fix your garbage disposal. Or, pay the parking ticket before you get assessed the late fees. Or, go out just one time in your white pants and not get something on them. (Or, stop so much parenthetical writing.) The "bucket list" is just a one-time thing, right? Ok, I can do this. I definitely have some boxes I want to check.

So here's a "bucket list," or at least a stream-of-consciousness one, penned on a waning day of summer in the 38th year of one woman's life:

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Do a somersault in the pool with my daughter, before she's tired of somersaults, without getting dizzy.

Ride the subway in New York City.

Ski a black diamond without wanting to kill whomever took me there.

Love to ski black diamonds.

Ski every day for at least a week.

Visit my daughter in college.

Visit my daughter while she studies abroad.

Help my daughter move into the first house that she owns.

Publish a book.

Take singing lessons then rock it out at karaoke for my 40th birthday (I had better hurry).

Boat from the city to the islands. CHECK! √

Finish A Man in Full.

Be a 4.0 tennis player.

Show up for an outdoor conditioning class at least eight consecutive times.

Write and deliver a speech celebrating someone I love, preferably not at their funeral.

Give my daughter the wedding she dreams about.

Hold healthy grand babies. A bunch of them.

Experience what it feels like to go over 100 miles an hour in a BMW on a road track. CHECK! √

Have a house big enough to have big, rowdy Sunday dinners. Or at least, a table big enough.

Bike in Italy. Bike in France. Bike in Greece.

Fly in a helicopter. CHECK! √

Learn to fly a helicopter (sorry mom).

See Madonna in concert.

See The Grateful Dead in concert before Jerry died. CHECK! √

Wake surf!

File my taxes on time (aka...don't file an extension).

Build a house just outside of my hometown, looking west towards the foothills, with a wall of windows.

Walk down a cobblestone street in Paris with someone I love.

Expand my family.

Be vital to at least two people. CHECK! √

Sit on the floor at Madison Square Garden.

Walk the Golden Gate Bridge. CHECK! √

Walk the Brooklyn Bridge.

Have a big island in my kitchen.

Celebrate at least a 20th anniversary.

Take a volunteer vacation with my daughter before she graduates from high school.

Celebrate at least one grandchild's college graduation.

Plant a (very small) garden and don't kill it.

Run a leg of a relay race, preferably under 10 miles.

Take my daughter and her friend on a (long!) road trip, just the three of us. CHECK! √

Bake a peach and raspberry pie (with fruit from down the hill) on a summer evening and serve it to a gaggle of my daughter and I's friends/family as we play cards, sitting in our swimsuits and not worrying that we didn't eat dinner first.

Check off at least 75% of this list.

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I guess I better start planning after all. As aptly said in a favorite song of mine, The Samples', "Feel Us Shaking," I have a lot I want to do. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOx055r77Rk

I will never grow so old again.

Recently I rented and watched the George Clooney Oscar-nominated movie, "Up in the Air." There are many great scenes that hit home, and they hit home in this elegant, compact way that kind of stuns you. There has been a lot of focus in reviews on the depth of the Clooney character and his romantic relationship. However for me, the character played by Anna Kendrick (also of the "Twilight" series fame, but don't hold that against her) hit closest to home. She plays a 23 year old girl, two years out of college. A smart, over-achiever type who is trying to make a big splash in her company. She has a severe hair style, wears conservative dark suits to not draw attention to herself, and she looks much older than her age, but ultimately she's still just 23. I know that girl all too well. In case my memory doesn't serve, I have photographic proof of the twenty-something me wearing horrible pant suits, boy-short hair, nylons (ick!) and glasses instead of contacts, all in an attempt to appear older and more experienced. In the movie, the character hits the road with her wiser, veteran colleague (Clooney) and of course many things ensue, one of which is that she is broken up with, via text message, by the boy she moved to Omaha for. A scene that, through a spot-on dialogue with the veterans, ultimately unveils her youth and idealism which starts her on the path that eventually sets her free.

I was such an idealist in a lot of ways. I suppose a lot of people are at that age, but I was trying to hide it. I wouldn't have wanted anyone to know that I was such an idealistic, romantic dreamer. I was (and am) the fixer. That's what I do, I fix things. Catch balls before they drop. Responsible, reliable, capable. I kept a big lid on the passionate, idealistic, dreamer girl. I kept the high-expectation gig for myself and was silently struggling with an identity crisis that lasted for at least a decade. What a drag. What a drain. However, I think I was destined to live the responsible, reliable, capable existence until my arms were too full and balls started to drop. The boyfriend in the movie did this girl a favor by texting her and letting her go.

I've been experiencing exponential self-evaluation and growth for probably about a year now and at times, it can be overwhelming, but I am learning to stop fighting myself. Letting myself be who I am and taking the lid off more often. I am a very passionate person. I am very open and transparent. I explore. I talk. I respectfully challenge and opine. Recently a newer friend of mine said, and I quote, "your openness is overwhelming." The slightly repressed version of myself would have quickly been defensive and clamped the lid down tight, considering the comment to be negative. The me that I don't want to fight any longer knows that the statement is more about him than me, and that is not a negative comment about him either. I realize (now) that I am often a catalyst for real emotion and deep conversation. That is who I am and that is what interests me. And I know that that kind of openness and exploration can be scary, and perhaps even overwhelming, but I think it's valuable for us as individuals, and of course for any kind of meaningful relationship, friendship or otherwise. It's real. It's, insert the highly overused word of...authentic, and it allows me to be more comfortable in my own skin, my relationships, my professional ventures, my age and my life.

One of my all-time favorite songs is "Sweet Thing" by Van Morrison and I am ready to admit that I am highly attracted to the romantic visions the song evokes. I love everything about it. I love the romantic idea of jumping hedges, drinking clear clean water to quench my thirst, heading out into the ocean against tomorrow's sky, walking and talking in gardens all wet with rain, being satisfied not to read between the lines and never growing so old again.I don't want to miss things from here on out. I want to take more of it in, explore more, and I want to be more present in my life and my age. I'm trying. I will always be that person that you can count on, but I think I want to take the lid off of the romantic dreamer girl too, and I have made a silent promise to myself that I will never grow so old again.

dream on.

Here are some of my answers to that quixotical question "what do you want to be when you grow up?" as answered when under the age of, oh, let's say 22 (in no particular order):

1. Attorney for the ACLU

2. Professional ballerina

3. Environmental attorney

4. Children's book author

5. Lead singer in a folk-rock band wearing a short flippy skirt

6. Self-help author's publicist

7. Architect (short-lived but made for incredibly in-depth Lego play times)

8. Essayist and published author

9. Fun, but demanding (and yet inspiring!), community college Political Science professor

10. The Boss.

If you are laughing (or scratching your head), know that I'm none of these things. As John Lennon prophetically said, "Life is what happens to you when you are busy making other plans." Along the way, the work in my life became more about satisfying objectives than realizing a dream. Paying the bills, meeting or exceeding work-specific expectations, developing a schedule that is compatible with being a wife and mother, taking on jobs that meet the needs of those I am responsible to and for, etc. I'm not terribly upset about this, but I am curious as to what happens to the ideal of those dreams and can you change or enhance your course? How do you realize your potential or direct that into the pursuit of your calling? How important is it to realize our potential? How powerful could it be to just pursue our potential?

The word potential intimidates me. A standard definition states something to the effect of: the inherent capacity for coming into being. And further: likely, expected to become or be. So our potential is there, right there (!), and it's likely to develop or is even expected to do so. That feels so optimistic! During my senior year in college, with dreams running through the pages of my journal and much-talked about over beers on Thursday nights, I dipped my toe in that discussion about potential and it led to an appearance on Oprah. Sadly, not by me, but a promotional coffee mug was provided. Again, sadly, not to me. Yet, I am the catalyst in that story line and it does have relevance.

Sometimes, in order to inspire my writings in the aforementioned journal, I would address the entries to someone. I wrote one to Oprah. It was mailed to Oprah (not by me, strangely enough) and Harpo Productions called me. They were doing a show on college grads giving up their degrees to pursue their calling, á la the movie, "Reality Bites" and they wanted me (ME?!) to be on the show. This was amazing! I envisioned a handful of my best friends and I lined up on Oprah's couch, smartly dressed and sounding like the hope of this new generation of grads. We would be flooded with fan mail and our return letters (we would write to every fan personally of course) would be poetic and inspired. We would have Fortune 500 companies sending us job offers and we would spend all of our vacations together in villas perched high above rocky international coastlines, starting with Italy.

WHOA! What did she just ask me? Ugh. Dream is evaporating. Typical me, I told her a story about another friend of mine who gave up his Princeton degree to pursue a career in professional tennis. They want him now, not me. I told her I couldn't get a hold of him (this is before mainstream use of cell phones) but, being the helpful person that I was, I had a back-up. I had another friend that was giving up a degree in accounting to play music full time. Would that suffice? It did. A few weeks later, I saw the episode. My friend (the would-be-accountant/musician) was not on the show. What happened? All that inspired dreaming for nothing? A recent grad-turned-kayak instructor was all that I remember. Come to find out (months later) that the featured kayak instructor was a friend of my friend. Figures. That friend of a friend got a trip to Chicago and a seat on the couch. My friend got an Oprah mug. Me? I guess I have the story.

Neither the musician nor the tennis player made a career out of those pursuits. That might make for a less-than-inspired turn of events in this story, yet it's a very real and common occurrence. That pesky thing called real life intervened. Can it be enough if you don't make a livelihood out of it? Is that truly realizing your potential if the mighty dollar doesn't come far behind? The tennis player is now an attorney and has a new baby. The musician and I are Facebook friends (figures, right?) He still plays, but not as a career. It left me wondering...are those examples of unrealized potential? I don't think so. Certainly they were, at the very least, in the pursuit of their potential and isn't there incredible value there?

Recently I had the immense pleasure of being introduced to a fantastic group of chorus opera singers. They sign on for an entire season, are paid and are card-carrying members of a local performers' union. This is a serious commitment of invested time and talent. They have accomplished day jobs too. There's the director of worldwide health initiatives for the largest software company in the world and a PhD candidate in neurobiology working on theories around the Circadian Rhythm and the eye, just to name two. This is a fascinating group of people who are realizing their potential, professionally and personally and, mulled wine aside, it set my brain afire once again.

Today, I am asking myself...At 37 years old, what is my potential? Are there things on that young dreamer's list above that I can still aspire to do? Do the endeavors have to make me money? Do I care at this age? I am ready to explore that. I am thinking about these things now. My life is no less complicated (and in some ways, it's even more complicated than ever before) but I am feeling awake. I am listening to myself and carving out windows of time to tap into that potential. Not just with writing, but with thinking, learning, exploring and being open to new ideas. It has been amazing. This pursuit of my potential is opening up fantastic opportunities and I feel like I am finally getting my shot on Oprah's couch. THIS is who I am. This is what I have to say and these are the kinds of things I am interested in exploring. Life may be what happens to you when you make other plans, but I've got Aerosmith blaring right now and I think I'm going to "Dream On!"