Thursday, December 31, 2009
Kiss Bethani at Midnight 12/31/09-1/1/10, Item #6
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Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Item #5: Do Something Nice For Someone
This particular item was intentionally vague. I could not forsee the particular circumstances of checking this item off. It could not be nice by my standards, because they are simply too low. If I did something nice for someone, it would have to be acknowledged by the individual that I did it for.
I left work early today because I was feeling a little sick. I figured the best way to get better is to start working out. I decided to work out for an additional reason. On my list, I have "Run 1/2 Marathon" and "Run Marathon". Running 13 miles is not something one just jumps into. You need to be in a shape that is better than bad. Today was day in one in that long treck.
Just down the street from my house, there is a wash that doubles as a park, of sorts. It has a winding sidewalk that goes up and down, and goes along the wash for 3 miles. I simply walked to the end of the walkway and came back. I was wearing shorts, with jeans over them, and my old army boots. I had on a tank top, two long sleeve shirts, and a hoodie. Plus a back pack with a ten pound weight in it. Excellent workout.
While on the return half of this walk/run/hike, I was passing by an individual's house, whose backyard is against the wash. A gentleman was in the backyard with his kids, teaching them some soccer drills. One of the kids managed to kick the soccerball into the wash. Not even thinking about anything, I told the guy I would go ahead and get the ball for them, which I did. Twice. The first time, I grabbed the ball and chucked it like I did back when I was a kid playing goalkeeper in my soccer days. Well, I did not quite get the ball into the backyard. It hit the fence and rolled back into the wash. So, I grabbed the ball again, and just walked it up to the fence and then tossed it over. The guy, who I believe lived in the house, said, "Thank you, that was very nice of you". After the guy said that what I did was nice, I realized I could now check off Item #5.
Not all that far from finishing my workout, I came across a group of kids that were impeding my path, though not intentionally. I do not even think they knew I was behind them. These kids were trying to push their bikes up a portion of the washway that I was trying to run through. One of the kids, however, did not know what he was doing. This little boy was straddling a girls mountain bike that he was shorter than and could not even push on level ground, let alone up this hill. I told the kid to hop off, and I took the bike to the top for him. All the other kids thanked me and said that what I did was nice. The only one that did not say this was the kid I helped. The little dude was completely out of breath from walking to the top of the hill. I think helping a couple of kids out counts as doing something nice.
I left work early today because I was feeling a little sick. I figured the best way to get better is to start working out. I decided to work out for an additional reason. On my list, I have "Run 1/2 Marathon" and "Run Marathon". Running 13 miles is not something one just jumps into. You need to be in a shape that is better than bad. Today was day in one in that long treck.
Just down the street from my house, there is a wash that doubles as a park, of sorts. It has a winding sidewalk that goes up and down, and goes along the wash for 3 miles. I simply walked to the end of the walkway and came back. I was wearing shorts, with jeans over them, and my old army boots. I had on a tank top, two long sleeve shirts, and a hoodie. Plus a back pack with a ten pound weight in it. Excellent workout.
While on the return half of this walk/run/hike, I was passing by an individual's house, whose backyard is against the wash. A gentleman was in the backyard with his kids, teaching them some soccer drills. One of the kids managed to kick the soccerball into the wash. Not even thinking about anything, I told the guy I would go ahead and get the ball for them, which I did. Twice. The first time, I grabbed the ball and chucked it like I did back when I was a kid playing goalkeeper in my soccer days. Well, I did not quite get the ball into the backyard. It hit the fence and rolled back into the wash. So, I grabbed the ball again, and just walked it up to the fence and then tossed it over. The guy, who I believe lived in the house, said, "Thank you, that was very nice of you". After the guy said that what I did was nice, I realized I could now check off Item #5.
Not all that far from finishing my workout, I came across a group of kids that were impeding my path, though not intentionally. I do not even think they knew I was behind them. These kids were trying to push their bikes up a portion of the washway that I was trying to run through. One of the kids, however, did not know what he was doing. This little boy was straddling a girls mountain bike that he was shorter than and could not even push on level ground, let alone up this hill. I told the kid to hop off, and I took the bike to the top for him. All the other kids thanked me and said that what I did was nice. The only one that did not say this was the kid I helped. The little dude was completely out of breath from walking to the top of the hill. I think helping a couple of kids out counts as doing something nice.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Item #3: Do a Beer Run
The thing about this list is that not everything on it is good. Most of them are. One item is questionable. And one is simply not good, "Do a beer run", which I took care of tonight, December 26th, 2009. For those that do not know what a beer run is, here is a brief explanaition. An individual goes into a gas station, or grocery store, grabs some beer, and leaves. Quickly. Stealing beer and hanging out do not exactly go together.
A few people that were privy to a view of my list were surprised to find this on there. From the surprise my friends expressed, doing a beer run seems like part of the American teenager experience. Prior to this moment, I have never stolen anything from anywhere. I have always been on the other side of this event.
While attending ASU, I did work at a Circle K for quite a few months, graveyard being the majority of that time. I had people do beer runs, on average, once a week. Sometimes I laughed, but I usually never cared. It was only when people talked to me that I got mad. One individual was walking out carrying a 24-pack of Bud Light bottles. He looked me in the eyes and said, "I gotta feed my kids, man," and kept on going. What he said does not make sense to the situation, and I do not even know what else to say about it.
Tonight, I hit up a gas station. I walked straight to the beer, grabbed an 18-pack of Bud Light cans, went straight out the door, and left. As I was jumping on my bike, the woman who was working followed me into the parking lot and asked me, "Sir, are you going to pay for that?" I feel this is an incredibly dumb question at this point of the process. I simply said, "No" and went about my life. If one thinks I am a total asshole for doing this, I do not disagree. Another thing one should pay attention to, never follow someone outside the store. Just call the cops.
It is interesting to have experienced this. I do not feel good about it in anyway shape or form. I feel bad for having done it at a gas station, because I know exactly what that woman is feeling right now. I feel bad for having done it the day after Christmas. But mostly, I feel bad because it is just piss-poor behavior. My arms are feeling weird, my gut does not feel right, and I am disappointed in myself for having done this. I instantly thought about going back and paying for it, whether it be tonight or another time. Then I realized that doing so would negate the act itself, as would not drinking the beer. So, bottoms up!
A few people that were privy to a view of my list were surprised to find this on there. From the surprise my friends expressed, doing a beer run seems like part of the American teenager experience. Prior to this moment, I have never stolen anything from anywhere. I have always been on the other side of this event.
While attending ASU, I did work at a Circle K for quite a few months, graveyard being the majority of that time. I had people do beer runs, on average, once a week. Sometimes I laughed, but I usually never cared. It was only when people talked to me that I got mad. One individual was walking out carrying a 24-pack of Bud Light bottles. He looked me in the eyes and said, "I gotta feed my kids, man," and kept on going. What he said does not make sense to the situation, and I do not even know what else to say about it.
Tonight, I hit up a gas station. I walked straight to the beer, grabbed an 18-pack of Bud Light cans, went straight out the door, and left. As I was jumping on my bike, the woman who was working followed me into the parking lot and asked me, "Sir, are you going to pay for that?" I feel this is an incredibly dumb question at this point of the process. I simply said, "No" and went about my life. If one thinks I am a total asshole for doing this, I do not disagree. Another thing one should pay attention to, never follow someone outside the store. Just call the cops.
It is interesting to have experienced this. I do not feel good about it in anyway shape or form. I feel bad for having done it at a gas station, because I know exactly what that woman is feeling right now. I feel bad for having done it the day after Christmas. But mostly, I feel bad because it is just piss-poor behavior. My arms are feeling weird, my gut does not feel right, and I am disappointed in myself for having done this. I instantly thought about going back and paying for it, whether it be tonight or another time. Then I realized that doing so would negate the act itself, as would not drinking the beer. So, bottoms up!
Item #2: Be D.D. For My Friends
This story winds up explaining why I did not take care of Item #1. The words here really can not do justice to what happened on December 12th, and, as usual, certain things are intentionally being withheld. This day did bring to my attention what this list could actually do for me, and, hopefully, other people.
My deadline for telling Bethani that I liked her was not arbitrary. She had originally asked me to join her at her father's Christmas party on this date. After saying yes, the Christmas party turned into a Christmas Bar Crawl in Tempe, AZ, followed up by another person's Thirtieth birthday party. The Tempe Bar Crawl actually turned into a Bar Sit. There were five of us, myself, Bethani, two others who will remain nameless, and (codename) Stacey. This group only made it to two bars. Two. Only two. And this is where everything becomes about Stacey.
I only know this girl in a very minor capacity. I have no room to say anything about her as a person. What I can say, and what I will say, is that I have seen my fair share of drunks, and I have been that emotional drunk my fair share of times. I assume Stacey was just having one of those days. At bar #2, Stacey started sliding from the happy-go-lucky drunk frame of mind to the drunk, psychotic wreck. Her friendship drama with Bethani, no matter how many years in the past it was, started to show itself immediately.
Driving the Arizona freeways with two totally trashed ladies in the car, I navigated my way to the Monastary out in Mesa, as Bethani promised to meet up with her friend who was celebrating her Thirtieth birthday. En route, things got decidely worse with Stacey. She was ramping up the crying, emotional jibber-jabber, hugs, and "I Love You's".
We reached the Monastary safely, and I will say, it is a cool f'ing place to have a B-day party. Here, Stacey turned into the drunk wanderer, hugger, and, probably, moocher and smoocher. She was doing whatever she was doing, and then "it" happened. The moment a drunk person completely flips into the negative realm of being stupid, hammered drunk. This is also the moment that makes the night change. Stacey came walking out of the bathroom with her right hand covered in blood, while being chased down by a bouncer and a waitress. I pointed this out to Bethani, who, being who she is, went running to Stacey to see what was going on.
Skipping through the stuff that I don't know, it had basically become time for us to leave. I intercepted Stacey while she was in the parking lot, talking to a cop. I just gave the cursory, "I'm the D.D. and I'm taking her home" schpiel, with Bethani only steps behind me. Bethani and I got Stacey into the car and headed to Bethani's place. And shit got weird.
Stacey's crying ramped up a ton, then came the yelling. Not words, mind you. But deep, gutteral howls that come from a woman who just saw her child murdered and could not do anything about it. These painful howls came inbetween more "I Love You's" and hugs and singing along with songs and "Thank You's", and it was just a wreck. Beautiful in it's human element, but a total wreck none the less. Stacey did say all sorts of things about what was going on with her, but that information is not for this forum. And if it were, I seriously doubt she would want me to share it.
What really strikes me is the "what if" factor. If I wasn't being DD this day, would all of this still have happened? Yeah, probably. Had this all gone down the exact same way, without me being there, Stacey may have very well hugged Bethani to death, in one form or another. That's just not good for anyone. Back at Bethani's house, Stacey was put to bed, then Bethani and I continued our night. I busted out the whiskey and weed (it was my turn to get messed up) and, as usual, Bethani and I talked about everything. The focus of this talk was obviously about what had gone down. Bethani had even remarked upon the fortunate nature of me being DD on this very night. I believe I did a small amount of good on this night. Should the rest of my list go half as well as this item, I will have a very good, fullfilling life.
My deadline for telling Bethani that I liked her was not arbitrary. She had originally asked me to join her at her father's Christmas party on this date. After saying yes, the Christmas party turned into a Christmas Bar Crawl in Tempe, AZ, followed up by another person's Thirtieth birthday party. The Tempe Bar Crawl actually turned into a Bar Sit. There were five of us, myself, Bethani, two others who will remain nameless, and (codename) Stacey. This group only made it to two bars. Two. Only two. And this is where everything becomes about Stacey.
I only know this girl in a very minor capacity. I have no room to say anything about her as a person. What I can say, and what I will say, is that I have seen my fair share of drunks, and I have been that emotional drunk my fair share of times. I assume Stacey was just having one of those days. At bar #2, Stacey started sliding from the happy-go-lucky drunk frame of mind to the drunk, psychotic wreck. Her friendship drama with Bethani, no matter how many years in the past it was, started to show itself immediately.
Driving the Arizona freeways with two totally trashed ladies in the car, I navigated my way to the Monastary out in Mesa, as Bethani promised to meet up with her friend who was celebrating her Thirtieth birthday. En route, things got decidely worse with Stacey. She was ramping up the crying, emotional jibber-jabber, hugs, and "I Love You's".
We reached the Monastary safely, and I will say, it is a cool f'ing place to have a B-day party. Here, Stacey turned into the drunk wanderer, hugger, and, probably, moocher and smoocher. She was doing whatever she was doing, and then "it" happened. The moment a drunk person completely flips into the negative realm of being stupid, hammered drunk. This is also the moment that makes the night change. Stacey came walking out of the bathroom with her right hand covered in blood, while being chased down by a bouncer and a waitress. I pointed this out to Bethani, who, being who she is, went running to Stacey to see what was going on.
Skipping through the stuff that I don't know, it had basically become time for us to leave. I intercepted Stacey while she was in the parking lot, talking to a cop. I just gave the cursory, "I'm the D.D. and I'm taking her home" schpiel, with Bethani only steps behind me. Bethani and I got Stacey into the car and headed to Bethani's place. And shit got weird.
Stacey's crying ramped up a ton, then came the yelling. Not words, mind you. But deep, gutteral howls that come from a woman who just saw her child murdered and could not do anything about it. These painful howls came inbetween more "I Love You's" and hugs and singing along with songs and "Thank You's", and it was just a wreck. Beautiful in it's human element, but a total wreck none the less. Stacey did say all sorts of things about what was going on with her, but that information is not for this forum. And if it were, I seriously doubt she would want me to share it.
What really strikes me is the "what if" factor. If I wasn't being DD this day, would all of this still have happened? Yeah, probably. Had this all gone down the exact same way, without me being there, Stacey may have very well hugged Bethani to death, in one form or another. That's just not good for anyone. Back at Bethani's house, Stacey was put to bed, then Bethani and I continued our night. I busted out the whiskey and weed (it was my turn to get messed up) and, as usual, Bethani and I talked about everything. The focus of this talk was obviously about what had gone down. Bethani had even remarked upon the fortunate nature of me being DD on this very night. I believe I did a small amount of good on this night. Should the rest of my list go half as well as this item, I will have a very good, fullfilling life.
Item #1, Part 2: Tell Bethani That I Like Her
Life Starts at Thirty
a.k.a
My Bucket List
As with all plans, whether laid by mice and men, or a total idiot, mine fell apart. My self-imposed deadline of December 12th came and went, quickly. The moment I was hoping for never presented itself, so I had to go with the last moment I had available. After being the designated driver on the target date, the next day was riddled with rain, which does not mesh well with motorcycles. Then came Monday morning, and I had to go for it. I couldn't wait any longer.
Very early that morning, I folded up a printed copy of Part 1 of this story and placed it on her kitchen counter. On top of that, I had placed a note saying, "I'm sorry if this freaks you out, but I like you. A Lot." I was sleeping on her sofa when she came down stairs. I heard her open the door to the garage, and I made a B-line for her. I made sure she saw my notes. I admitted to her face that I liked her. It was a weird state of sleepiness and awkwardness on both our parts, but I made sure she took the paper about the first part of the story with her to work. What I got was a, "Thank you," and an, "I'm glad you told me." This immediately made me thankful she was leaving for work. I had my escape route.
Before leaving, I pushed my bike out of her garage and into the driveway. I then made sure all the doors of her house were locked. I slipped out of the garage, electronically shut the garage door, stepped over the sensor, and looked forward to the rest of my day. When I sat on my bike, I noticed the time and how early it was, 7:15 a.m. I then started up my bike, or tried to. The battery on my bike was dead. I was embarrassed by the "Thank you" and horrified by my circumstances. I was now trapped at the house of the girl who thanked me for my honesty, while locked out of that very same house, and dreaded seeing that girl later in the day. I began thinking I had reached a new level of embarassment, one previously unknown to mankind.
I jumped the wall into her backyard and was lucky enough to find a door open. I went through the house, opened the garage door, again, and pulled my bike back in. I went to the gas station around the corner and made some phone calls. I called into work. Then I called Bethani. I made that call as brief as possible. I told her what happened and that I would need a ride home.
I spent the next 9 hours shaking my head, wondering who else on the planet this could possibly happen to, why it happened to me, taking a nap, and then resuming my paranoid embarassament. When Bethani got home from work, I was sitting on her sofa, flipping my lucky coin, watching a movie, and hoping for the right thing to say. What came out of my mouth was aproximately, "Had I known I'd be stuck here, this morning would have been totally different." A few moments passed and she offered to take me somewhere to take care of my bike. I told her I had everything I needed at my house.
Not knowing what she was thinking, or feeling, I offered two options. First, I could take the battery back to my place, charge it for a few days, find my way back to her place, and pick up my bike then. Secondly, we could just go back to my place, I would grab what I needed, go back to her place, and charge my battery there. I did warn her of a 2% chance that my bike would not start and that I could be stuck there another day. Bethani left this choice up to me.
We headed off to my place, with my battery, and belongings, in tow. On the way there, we discussed what needed to be talked about. After telling her how stupid and embarrassed I felt, she showed me all the grace in the world, and put me at ease. This wound up being one of our easiest talks. I told her I would decide what I would do by the time we reached my house. On the way, she had mentioned her friends might be getting together for Monday Night Football: Arizona Cardinals versus the San Francisco 49'ers. She had also mentioned that our joint group of friends were meeting up to watch the game as well. I opted for the long way home, meaning Monday Night Football, and it did not matter who we were spending it with.
As far as football goes, the Cardinals were spectacular failures that night. After the game, and all the goodbye hugs and kisses, Bethani and I went back to her place. I got my bike up and running. And, with all the details intentionally excluded, Bethani and I had another minor talk. After this, I summoned my courage to kiss her. I did ask for permission. Before she could answer, I went for it. I could not hold back any longer. I will say one thing, kissing Bethani was, and is, awesome.
After all of that, I found myself in a precarious situation. I have never developed feelings for someone that was my friend, and a line was definitely crossed here. I automatically recognized that I would have to make decisions based on what will positively advance our friendship, and whatever it is we have now. The trasition from friends to something more is an uncertain path. I hope that we both make the sort of decisions that allow us to remain excellent friends, regardless of what happens at this new level. I do not know if Bethani actually likes me, or if it is my words, how I think about her, or if she was so completely flattered by me that she decided to give me a chance. Despite which of those options it may be, she is a total class act and I just have to keep going for it. What else is there to do?
a.k.a
My Bucket List
As with all plans, whether laid by mice and men, or a total idiot, mine fell apart. My self-imposed deadline of December 12th came and went, quickly. The moment I was hoping for never presented itself, so I had to go with the last moment I had available. After being the designated driver on the target date, the next day was riddled with rain, which does not mesh well with motorcycles. Then came Monday morning, and I had to go for it. I couldn't wait any longer.
Very early that morning, I folded up a printed copy of Part 1 of this story and placed it on her kitchen counter. On top of that, I had placed a note saying, "I'm sorry if this freaks you out, but I like you. A Lot." I was sleeping on her sofa when she came down stairs. I heard her open the door to the garage, and I made a B-line for her. I made sure she saw my notes. I admitted to her face that I liked her. It was a weird state of sleepiness and awkwardness on both our parts, but I made sure she took the paper about the first part of the story with her to work. What I got was a, "Thank you," and an, "I'm glad you told me." This immediately made me thankful she was leaving for work. I had my escape route.
Before leaving, I pushed my bike out of her garage and into the driveway. I then made sure all the doors of her house were locked. I slipped out of the garage, electronically shut the garage door, stepped over the sensor, and looked forward to the rest of my day. When I sat on my bike, I noticed the time and how early it was, 7:15 a.m. I then started up my bike, or tried to. The battery on my bike was dead. I was embarrassed by the "Thank you" and horrified by my circumstances. I was now trapped at the house of the girl who thanked me for my honesty, while locked out of that very same house, and dreaded seeing that girl later in the day. I began thinking I had reached a new level of embarassment, one previously unknown to mankind.
I jumped the wall into her backyard and was lucky enough to find a door open. I went through the house, opened the garage door, again, and pulled my bike back in. I went to the gas station around the corner and made some phone calls. I called into work. Then I called Bethani. I made that call as brief as possible. I told her what happened and that I would need a ride home.
I spent the next 9 hours shaking my head, wondering who else on the planet this could possibly happen to, why it happened to me, taking a nap, and then resuming my paranoid embarassament. When Bethani got home from work, I was sitting on her sofa, flipping my lucky coin, watching a movie, and hoping for the right thing to say. What came out of my mouth was aproximately, "Had I known I'd be stuck here, this morning would have been totally different." A few moments passed and she offered to take me somewhere to take care of my bike. I told her I had everything I needed at my house.
Not knowing what she was thinking, or feeling, I offered two options. First, I could take the battery back to my place, charge it for a few days, find my way back to her place, and pick up my bike then. Secondly, we could just go back to my place, I would grab what I needed, go back to her place, and charge my battery there. I did warn her of a 2% chance that my bike would not start and that I could be stuck there another day. Bethani left this choice up to me.
We headed off to my place, with my battery, and belongings, in tow. On the way there, we discussed what needed to be talked about. After telling her how stupid and embarrassed I felt, she showed me all the grace in the world, and put me at ease. This wound up being one of our easiest talks. I told her I would decide what I would do by the time we reached my house. On the way, she had mentioned her friends might be getting together for Monday Night Football: Arizona Cardinals versus the San Francisco 49'ers. She had also mentioned that our joint group of friends were meeting up to watch the game as well. I opted for the long way home, meaning Monday Night Football, and it did not matter who we were spending it with.
As far as football goes, the Cardinals were spectacular failures that night. After the game, and all the goodbye hugs and kisses, Bethani and I went back to her place. I got my bike up and running. And, with all the details intentionally excluded, Bethani and I had another minor talk. After this, I summoned my courage to kiss her. I did ask for permission. Before she could answer, I went for it. I could not hold back any longer. I will say one thing, kissing Bethani was, and is, awesome.
After all of that, I found myself in a precarious situation. I have never developed feelings for someone that was my friend, and a line was definitely crossed here. I automatically recognized that I would have to make decisions based on what will positively advance our friendship, and whatever it is we have now. The trasition from friends to something more is an uncertain path. I hope that we both make the sort of decisions that allow us to remain excellent friends, regardless of what happens at this new level. I do not know if Bethani actually likes me, or if it is my words, how I think about her, or if she was so completely flattered by me that she decided to give me a chance. Despite which of those options it may be, she is a total class act and I just have to keep going for it. What else is there to do?
Item #1: Tell Bethani That I Like Her
Life Starts at Thirty
a.k.a.
My Bucket List Item #1
To say that this list starts with a girl is 100% true, but partially beside the point. I hit the doomsday age of thirty on December 4th, 2009. A few days prior to this, I began writing letters to several of my friends, thanking them for being in my life and being my friend. These letters were not for them, but for myself. I wanted to remember what, and who, I was thankful for. During the course of writing these letters, I could not help but take stock of my life, and the things I have done. I graduated high school, served four years in the United States Army, graduated from Arizona State University with my B.A. in English Literature. I’ve done stand up comedy, amateur mixed martial arts fights, published a couple of poems in student magazines, and a few other things. It may seem like a lot, but I also remember all the days and money wasted on drinking and smoking weed. This is not to say such things are bad. I just want to spend the rest of my life doing something more than doing nothing.This list, within two days, came to 55 items. The final tally is something I cannot possibly know at this moment. However, this is where the girl comes in. The list does start with her. “Tell Bethani I like her” is item number one.
Bethani and I have been friends for several years. We met at work. We were both dating other people. Relationships ended, new ones began, and we kept in touch. As time went on, we became better and better friends. Doing things everyone does, and a few that one probably should not do. The more time we spent with each other, the more amazing she became to me. At first, I thought she was a shallow girl with no self-confidence. Today, she is beyond words. Her kindness and generosity are second to none. She can talk intensely about the big things, bs the small things, tell a joke and be completely sincere simultaneously. But that is a big thing, being able to honestly talk with one another. There is more to her, and this, than what’s been put down here. That will stay with me.
However, this is the story of Item #1. Bethani hosted my Thirtieth birthday party. She went above and beyond what I expected. I wound up staying the weekend with her, as the keg was not finished until Saturday, the 5th, and then we still had some rum to enjoy. During one of our talks that weekend, I happened to mention that one of the scariest things a guy can do is tell a girl he likes her. As I was saying these words to her, I had a full body urge to tell her how I felt. I chickened out. Big time. In my gut, I believe that I did not tell her because it is something that should be done with a sober mind, an open heart, and an escape route, should the “just a friend” response be uttered.
I have set my deadline for this Saturday, the 12th, as we will be hanging out all day. If things go well, I may very well end up spending the weekend at her house again. If it doesn’t go well at all, at least I did not waste her day and I will have plenty of time to lick my wounds and write the rest of this. So, here’s to courage, hope, and moving on with my life.
a.k.a.
My Bucket List Item #1
To say that this list starts with a girl is 100% true, but partially beside the point. I hit the doomsday age of thirty on December 4th, 2009. A few days prior to this, I began writing letters to several of my friends, thanking them for being in my life and being my friend. These letters were not for them, but for myself. I wanted to remember what, and who, I was thankful for. During the course of writing these letters, I could not help but take stock of my life, and the things I have done. I graduated high school, served four years in the United States Army, graduated from Arizona State University with my B.A. in English Literature. I’ve done stand up comedy, amateur mixed martial arts fights, published a couple of poems in student magazines, and a few other things. It may seem like a lot, but I also remember all the days and money wasted on drinking and smoking weed. This is not to say such things are bad. I just want to spend the rest of my life doing something more than doing nothing.This list, within two days, came to 55 items. The final tally is something I cannot possibly know at this moment. However, this is where the girl comes in. The list does start with her. “Tell Bethani I like her” is item number one.
Bethani and I have been friends for several years. We met at work. We were both dating other people. Relationships ended, new ones began, and we kept in touch. As time went on, we became better and better friends. Doing things everyone does, and a few that one probably should not do. The more time we spent with each other, the more amazing she became to me. At first, I thought she was a shallow girl with no self-confidence. Today, she is beyond words. Her kindness and generosity are second to none. She can talk intensely about the big things, bs the small things, tell a joke and be completely sincere simultaneously. But that is a big thing, being able to honestly talk with one another. There is more to her, and this, than what’s been put down here. That will stay with me.
However, this is the story of Item #1. Bethani hosted my Thirtieth birthday party. She went above and beyond what I expected. I wound up staying the weekend with her, as the keg was not finished until Saturday, the 5th, and then we still had some rum to enjoy. During one of our talks that weekend, I happened to mention that one of the scariest things a guy can do is tell a girl he likes her. As I was saying these words to her, I had a full body urge to tell her how I felt. I chickened out. Big time. In my gut, I believe that I did not tell her because it is something that should be done with a sober mind, an open heart, and an escape route, should the “just a friend” response be uttered.
I have set my deadline for this Saturday, the 12th, as we will be hanging out all day. If things go well, I may very well end up spending the weekend at her house again. If it doesn’t go well at all, at least I did not waste her day and I will have plenty of time to lick my wounds and write the rest of this. So, here’s to courage, hope, and moving on with my life.
My Bucket List, Item #4
More stories will immediately follow. However, I am going to kick this off by saying I am a 30 year old dude, with a list of shit to do before I die. Hence, My Bucket List. Everything that appears on this page, from here on out, will be a story about an item on my bucket list. Those individual events will be labeled numerically, in the order that they are checked off. What is put here may be a story about why a particular item is on the list. It may be the story of how I checked that item off. But it's all me, and it's all my life.
I would say that the following names and faces have been changed to protect the innocent, but that's just not the case. I did receive permission from a few people to post things as they are, that really is for the "innocent". By innocent, I mean everyone I talk about (by the by, a few names really have been changed). Just as a side note, this blog / website is item #4. Now that this is taken care of, on with everything.
I would say that the following names and faces have been changed to protect the innocent, but that's just not the case. I did receive permission from a few people to post things as they are, that really is for the "innocent". By innocent, I mean everyone I talk about (by the by, a few names really have been changed). Just as a side note, this blog / website is item #4. Now that this is taken care of, on with everything.
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