it’s how we breathe

I’ve been working on, what I consider, a big project lately.  I can’t tell you about it wordpress because you be tellin all my secrets.  The only reason I be sittin whitchoo at lunch anyway is cause blogger chews with her mouf open.  So mind yo bidness.

And I don’t care what anyone says.  The new-ish Oasis album is fucking rad and I can’t stop listening to it.  I even sing it in the shower — which I neva, eva do.  And I don’t even care if I’ve typed this out to you before because I think it’s worth repeating.  But maybe not so good that it warrants a 6th sentence…

Probably one of the funniest things I’ve ever done at 3am had to have happened the other morning.  My friend from work sends me a lot of forwards and pictures and stuff.  Surprisingly a lot of them are really funny and cute.  But one of them was one of those bucket list e-mails.  So I had this brilliant idea that I should make a list of all the things I wanted to do before I died.  Here’s 3 pieces of it, but only because my entry would be weak without providing evidence from said bucket list.

1. Hang glide from that cliff in the Mexico tourism commercial (yeah, I’ll just wander around Mexico until I find that cliff.  And I’ll disregard the fact that I’m terrified of heights)
2. Watch the ball drop one New Year’s Eve in NYC (hmmmm… this one might work if I can stay awake past 9pm and not freak out when there’s more than 20 people in a 50 foot radius of me)
3. Read all the books on Modern Library’s Top 100 Novels (I tried this and I’ve actually read a lot of these books, but I eventually gave up on, say, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and opted for something horrible like American Psycho)

Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s awesome to have goals.  I think it’s paramount in your life, it definitely gives you something to work towards and keeps you on track, but I find that when I make lists like that I start thinking that I need to become more exciting than I actually am or have more adventures than I really want to. 

But.

What’s the worst that could come of hang gliding?  They give you a helmet right?