And found my old life list, dated November 21, 2006:
This is an incomplete list of dreams. Goals. From realistic to downright unlikely possibilities. But who knows? I’ll check back in a couple of years and see which ones I get to do.
( ) A clean catch on a trapeze,
( ) Make babies,
( ) Drive a truck across NLEx (with my babies!)
( ) See a ghost–a real ghost, none of that cold spot shit,
( ) Join Greenpeace so I can…
( ) …live on a boat and sail to the ends of the earth…
( ) Meet Aleksandar Hemon and make him touch my cheek so I can…
(XX) Faint (hey, I’ve never fainted. Gotta try that), FUCKING DYSMENNORHEA! Ended up fainting TWICE in the past 4 years.
( ) Bungee jump off of the Sagrada Familia cathedral,
( ) March with the penguins,
( ) March with the Morgan Freeman (hey, he black),
( ) Get drunk with my kids,
( ) Get drunk with my husband,
( ) Trek across what’s left of the Amazon,
( ) Meet a pygmy,
( ) Eat a pygmy…
( ) …Then ride a roller coaster 4 times straight (ever regurgitated a pygmy? Me neither.)
( ) Sit in Nigella’s kitchen so she can talk my ear off while she cooks,
( ) Appear on The Daily Show (that Greenpeace or pygmy eating business could get me somewhere…),
( ) Contribute to Granta,
( ) Contribute to The Paris Review,
( ) M.A. Anthropology,
( ) Board a plane bound for Palau, then it crashes in the middle of the ocean and I’ll find myself on a deserted island with someone whom I have serious, unresolved issues with,
( ) M.S. Ergonomics,
( ) Go underground long enough to be pronounced dead, so I can have one of those really ridiculous “AYZJUSTKEEDING!” moments
( ) Write for a tabloid,
( ) Die old and happy from something really unspectacular
Didn’t get a lot done, but I haven’t completely missed the boat on writing for a tabloid.
and “March with the Morgan Freeman”? What the fuck was that?