Before I die, I want to . . .

First, look at this: http://www.creativereview.co.uk/cr-blog/2011/april/before-i-die-candy-chang

Now, look at this: http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/7669043/ns/today-live_for_today/


It seems that what we assume our lives should be full of fantastic adventure and erudite epiphanies. Our concept of a fulfilled life seems to bear little to the reality of what individual people want their lives to be. Maybe as we get older, our expectations diminish. We learn to revel in a bit of sunshine or a cold drink or any number of the small delights in life.

When I was little, I wanted to visit every country in the world. I was going to graduate from high school early, finish my B.A. in three years, and be rich by the time I was 25. I was going to have a string of broken hearts behind me. I was going to publish a cogent, revolutionary novel before I left high school. I was going to be one of a kind, so that those who passed me by on the street would pause and think to themselves, "Gee-golly, that Rosemary sure is one of a kind."

Needless to say, none of these things have happened.

And if these were still my goals, I would be a glum little thing.

I've changed. I've lived, and because of that, I have new aspirations, ones that actually have a slim chance of making me happy.

Before I die, I want to spend a whole day just writing.
Before I die, I want to sing by myself in a field.
Before I die, I want to see the Northern Lights.
Before I die, I want to have have a truly selfless moment.
Before I die, I want to fall in love with someone who love me back.
Before I die, I want to feel certain.
Before I die, I want to climb a tree.
Before I die, I want to dye my hair blue (all of it).
Before I die, I want to grow up.
Before I die, I want to do a lot of things, but I don't want to be boring!

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreat

Two months to the day since I last posted. During this time, I have gotten sick, seen many movies, witness heartbreak, reestablished friendships, experimented with J-Dawgs sauce, reignited passion for music, bought a few books, and wondered where the two months went.

Two months . . . what do I have to say for myself?

I say . . . I have great friends.

It sounds trite, I know, but I find it miraculous. I haven't always had great friends, you see, and I am constantly surprised when my friends don't disappoint me. Call me a cynic, a pessimist, a drama queen, or even a teddy bear full of needles, but it's true.

It's not that I choose bad friends. I just choose flawed friends, and while generally flaws are what make a person lovable, I have a history of choosing friends with destructive flaws. I've had friends just use me to cover up how much time they've spent with their boyfriends. I've had friends ignore me for weeks at a time until they face crisis and need to talk. I've had friends steal from me. I've had friends slowly tear me down until I have no confidence left. I've had friends abruptly stop talking to me.

I'm not trying to throw a pity party. I've had good friends, too! And I was no picnic for a few years there. I was plenty messed up, which is probably why I surrounded myself with companions even more screwed up than me.

I share these examples to punctuate my point: I have great friends.

I have friends who make me homemade soup when I'm sick. I have friends who get up and drive out to my house in the morning to give me a ride if I miss my bus. I have friends that feed me when I'm too broke to eat. I have friends that drive miles and miles to see me. I have friends who love my flaws. I have friends who listen to my emotional freak-outs and accept them.

Great friends, people. Great friends.

Penny Short of a Quarter

Happy birthday to me!

Yes, I have embarked into the merciless years known as the mid-twenties. These years should herald my true independence. Graduation, employment, and car payments eagerly await me. My hair is graying and my joints are aching, but I still refuse to grow up. I rebel against the idea that just because I am 2.4 decades old, I must now be this so-called "adult." Pffffffft. Who says?

I punctuated my point by snarfing a piece of cake for breakfast.

(No, it doesn't matter that my stomach is now trying to consume every happy, healthy cell in my body. Point proven.)

In celebration of my 24th birthday, I'm sharing once more the song that defines my life. Or will, when I get around to graduating.

http://listen.grooveshark.com/s/Twentysomething/2EozW7

Twentysomething
by Jamie Cullum

After years of expensive education,
A car full of books and anticipation,
I'm an expert on Shakespeare and that's a hell of a lot,
But the world don't need scholars as much as I thought.
Maybe I'll go traveling for a year,
Finding myself, or start a career.
I could work for the poor, though I'm hungry for fame.
We all seem so different but we're just the same.
Maybe I'll go to the gym, so I don't get fat--
Aren't things more easy, with a tight six-pack?
Who knows the answers, who do you trust?
I can't even separate love from lust...
Maybe I'll move back home and pay off my loans
Working nine to five, answering phones,
But don't make me live for Friday nights,
Drinking eight pints and getting in fights.
I don't want to get up, just let me lie in.
Leave me alone, I'm a twentysomethin'.
Maybe I'll just fall in love:
That could solve it all.
Philosophers say that that's enough,
There surely must be more.
Love ain't the answer, nor is work.
The truth eludes me so much it hurts,
But I'm still having fun and I guess that's the key.
I'm a twentysomething and I'll keep being me.