Out with the Old…

Below is the list of 50 Things I Want(ed) to Do Before I Die, about four years old. Things have changed, but not everything,

Bold are those that I accomplished.

Italics I’m still working on.

Strikethrough are the no longer desireds.

1. Bear testimony completely by the Spirit.
2. Spend a summer in Ireland.
3. Publish a book.
4. Get married in the Temple.
5. Go waterskiing.
6. Climb a mountain.
7. Get my MBA.
8. Buy a house.
9. Understand the Book of Mormon.
10. Have a two-way conversation with God.
11. Watch my children get married.
12. Get out of debt.
13. Feel comfortable in my own skin.
14. Own my own business.
15. Read thousands of books.
16. Recieve my Edowments.
17. Speak another language.
18. Learn to cook well.
19. Eat lots of chocolate.
20. Serve a mission.
21. Learn to ski.
22. Beat Bret at Pinochle.
23. Become completely interdependent.
24. Do what I love for a living.
25. Say what I mean.
26. Get my degree.
27. Visit a monastery.
28. Live where no one knows my name.
29. Stop hunger.
30. Adopt a child.
31. Watch a World Cup Game live.
32. Love without fear.
33. Have confidence in myself.
34. Watch the Red Sox with ANOTHER World Series.
35. Sleep under the stars.
36. Go on a cruise.
37. Be someone’s hero.
38. Rock my baby to sleep.
39. Travel in Europe.
40. Embrace my inner geek.
41. Win an argument with Justin.
42. Be in soccer shape.
43. Read Catch-22.
44. Treat my body like a temple.
45. Walk up the stairs without getting winded.
46. Decorate my house.
47. Learn to act on promptings.
48. Get a Hobby.
49. Kiss in the rain.
50. See a Broadway show.

I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same. 

How terribly cliche.

Sick and Spoiled

So, for the second time in three weeks, I have been felled by bronchitis. Enough really is enough. I’ve used all my sick days this year, and I am completely miserable. 

I thought I had handily dispensed of the sickness the first time, with the might of a fully finished round of anti-biotics–which is quite the feat for me, but it is back with a vengence. For the first time ever, I have to use an inhaler to breathe. 

So, this is why the writing has been sparse. I just have noooooo energy. 

I’m glad Gramma is here to spoil me with dinner and sandwiches and nagging reminders to take my medication.

The love is felt.

Before I Die

I check the stats like a crazy person, so I know that nobody reads here anymore. But because I am a crazy person, I’ll continue to post here. Which suits me fine, because I get plenty of attention whore fulfillment on my more private/public blog. Talk about the irony!

Anyway, while I was moving, I found a list from a few years ago of 100 things to do before I die, which was really only 50 items long. It was interesting to read, because I could cross a few off the list because I had accomplished them: 

• Beat Bret at Pinochle
• Embrace my Inner Geek
• Be Comfortable in my own Skin (hey, almost there!)

And some I could cross off because I just don’t want them anymore:

• Serve a Mission
• Recieve my Endowments

I guess it’s time for a new list. 

Heck, I love adding new pages, even if no one reads them but me.

Moving On

I’m really moving on in so many ways these days, that my head is almost spinning.

There’s the literal moving of home, which is now 95% complete, and will be finished before close of business today. And while this moving is the most immediate and phyisically demanding, it’s not the hardest.

I’m a clinger. I hate change of any kind. but I love growth, and growth demands change.

I’m learning that it’s okay for some people not to be in my life, even if their influence is mostly positive, and especially when their influence is mostly negative. Time may be infinite in the long term, but in the short term, there is a distinct shortage. It reminds me of that joke that in the long run, the market will fix itself, but as Keynes says, ‘in the long run, we are all dead.’

Letting go of fanciful notions is a tough process, too, and it’s one that pushes me into cynicism, as if I am not jaded enough. My One True Love is not my one true love. Heck, even my crushes are no longer my crushes. This aspect of moving on is one that is so healthy, but not so healthy, too, because it makes me build walls every time. I still have some growing to do in this department.

Instead of letting go and letting God, I am simply letting go of God. If he is really all-knowing, he will know why, and perhaps if he can see the future, he can see my eventual return, or maybe I won’t return. The universe I envision does not include a God who needs or wants worship. He seems far too laissez faire for that.

That post is still coming, but the boxes are beckoning.

Why So Silent?

There’s nothing like moving to demonstrate to oneself how much of a consumer one is. 

I am tempted to just light a match to everything and start over.

But then, I would have to walk around naked. 

And that is good for no one.

Sweaters and Leaves

 Fall is my favorite season. It’s cold enough for sweaters, but not cold enough for snow. The leaves turn countless shades of beautiful–my favorite being that deep red that almost looks purple, and the streets become lined with the leaves that have floated down in farewell until the spring comes and they cling to branches once again. 

And did I mention the extra hour of sleep?

 

But of course, no sleep in happening here, because my brain won’t shut off. My life has become much more complicated, now that I am being all open to new ideas and trying to grow emotionally.

Deciding to be a big girl about life doesn’t mean that I don’t still get my feelings hurt; it just means that my emotional response should be more proportional to the stressor. And I think so far, so good. Most of the time. I’m still going to be very emotionally sensitive. Whether that is a result of the abandonment or the abuse, or just a perfectly healthy character trait, I’m not sure. 

I do know that I am much better at coming down from my irrationality rather quickly, after some time to think things through. This is progress for a girl who usually reacts to any small emotional wound as if the world were truly ending.

Somewhere out there, is my happiness. 

Maybe it will come dressed in a deep red sweater.