Meet God - Adding to THE LIST

About once every two weeks, I think seriously about death. Don’t take this the wrong way – I am not depressed, as Health Services seems to think every college student is, nor do I have a morbid obsession with dying. But I do think it’s fair that if I actually plan on completing everything on this Bucket List (as I most definitely do), then it’s probably a good idea for me to get comfortable with the idea.

I have so many questions: Is there life after death? Is it going to happen to me? Am I going to come back as an ugly mosquito?

Since none of my friends seem to be able to provide me with any useful information on the subject, I’ve come up with a better solution – I am going to ask God, assuming that He exists (I’m referring to God as a male for now, but don’t worry feminists, half the time He is a She in my head). I’m imagining the convo will go a little like this:

Audrey: Hey God! It’s about time we met. Where have you been hiding?

God: My little lamb Audrey, I am with you all the time.

A: Dude, it’s just you and me now. You can cut the quotes, I know the Book.

G: Whew! It gets boring repeating these things.

A: Okay, let’s cut to the chase. What is up with this dying thing? I mean, the mystery around it – is it really necessary? It’s like the suspense in a horror film. Honestly, I think it’s getting too much hype.

G: …

A: What? Now that you can’t quote from the Book, you don’t have anything insightful to say?

Okay, so when this much-anticipated encounter does happen, I hope that I’ll realize that God has a bit more power than I’m giving him credit for, so I should probably cut the sass down just a bit.

[Dear God, I know you know I am joking, so please play along and don’t strike me with lightning tonight. Love, your humble servant, Audrey.]

Be a YouTube sensation - Adding to THE LIST

Usher found Justin Bieber on YouTube, I have a feeling he’s going to discover me next. I’m shooting for at least one million views. Let’s throw in 500 facebook “likes” while we’re at it. So what if I don’t know what short film I’m going to star in yet? If this kid can do it, so can I. (Guess his age. Hint: he's older than me. Then check your answer HERE.)

Really, though. Doesn’t everyone just want to be famous? I’ll help my friends out here, and give them a headstart to Hollywood. (Film cred: yours truly.)

Moral of the story: don’t be mean to me, because if you are, I won’t introduce you to my co-YouTube-famous stars like Math Girl and doglover199709.

Hunting - Adding to THE LIST

In honor of No-Shave November (don’t worry –my male housemate is taking part in this ritual, not me), I want to go hunting (also inspired by said male housemate). Something about these scruffy-faced college boys inspires getting down in the dirt with a rifle.

First, I’m going to set the record straight – yeah, I do feel kind of bad killing innocent animals, but I also eat non-free-range chicken, arguably just as bad. I’d like to stay away from shooting the bunnies and the Bambis and start instead with ducks, or maybe cardboard cutouts leaning on hay stacks.

Most importantly, though, it has to be real. A day with nature, albeit screwing with the circle of life. Being in the country (preferably somewhere in Texas), staying still for hours (okay, let’s be real here – a few minutes will be challenge enough), and crawling through mud and ticks to find the perfect spot. Let’s just hope I don’t go on my first hunting expedition during No-Shower September.

Crowd-Surfing - Adding to THE LIST

Passion Pit concert tonight – it was pretty rave (that’s a new word I’m trying out, to replace “sick” because.. no reason). Surprisingly, I knew more than their one famous song Sleepyhead, and that’s not including their rendition of some random 90s song.

So halfway through the show, we see a girl crowd-surfing. And as usual, she gets tossed around for a while before she eventually ends up surfing face-down and everyone’s touching her goods. I mean, I guess that’s mildy better than in Mean Girls, when Dumb Chick #1 jumps into the crowd, and Dumb Chick #2 is the only one trying to catch her, and they both splat.

Not this kind of crowd-surfing, but hey, look - Tufts has school spirit!

Regardless, I’d like to get the guts to crowd-surf. How cool would it be to literally be at the hands of strangers, and have zero control over where you’re headed, all while jamming to your favorite band? I can see it now – the crowd will pass me straight up to the stage. I tell Rihanna, “Girlfriend, I can take it from here,” and Eminem and I perform Love the Way You Lie together.

Paranormal Activity - Adding to THE LIST

Scary movies are like flu shots. Once a year, uncomfortable, and something I avoid at all costs. I scream to drone out the sounds, cover my eyes, and somehow still can’t sleep for weeks. Sure I’ll jump off that 60 foot bridge, but watching other people run away from ghosts on TV? Hell no. On the way home from watching The Exorcist one year, I swear I saw a demon in my passenger seat, and nearly drove into a mailbox trying to kill the evil spirit.

This year is different. It’s going to be all or nothing, back to back, balls to the walls. Here’s the game plan: Paranormal Activity 1 on Thursday and, optimistically assuming I am still alive, Paranormal Activity 2 on Friday afternoon (in broad daylight, obviously). And if they had come out with Paranormal Activity 3D, I’d totally be there Saturday.

So in other words, I’m not planning on sleeping until maybe Thanksgiving. Don’t even think about pulling a prank. I’ll be keeping a baseball bat by my bed and mace in my pocket for the next month.

SkyMall magazine - Adding to THE LIST

Seemingly useless but in fact the smartest inventions ever. Every time I open that SkyMall magazine up, one of three thoughts go in my head:

1. Wow, that would make [insert here - watering my nonexistent plants, charging my phone, showing off my Harry Potter collection] so much easier!

2. I could've invented that.

3. That lucky dog/cat/hamster/bird gets a bed bigger than mine.

100% edges brownie pan? Best invention ever, and I don't even like brownie edges.

So that leaves me with two goals:

Buy something off of SkyMall.

Invent something that is sold in SkyMall.

Photographic Memory - Adding to THE LIST

In my quest to become Lisbeth Salander (an asocial, overtattooed, boxing, computer genius freak in Stieg Larsson’s dragon tattoo books. This is definitely not the last you’ll hear of her from me), I will develop a photographic memory.

It might sound difficult – I can’t even remember what I ate for breakfast this morning – but my deep research in the field (googling it 30 seconds ago) has convinced me that I am an excellent candidate for the job. It’s all about word association.

Exhibit A:

-Yesterday, I met a guy named Dan.

-I called him Stan by accident, which is the name of a chiropractor I went to years ago for shoulder problems.

-Apparently I still have those shoulder problems.

-Our trainer at school is helping me fix it.

-Oh hey, his name is Dan too!

∴ Dan à Stan à shoulder à Dan.

That was a little too convenient. Let’s try again.

Exhibit B:

-Taylor Swift’s new CD Speak Now is coming out October 25^th.

-Some group at my school changed its name this year to ‘Speac,’ which stands for something mysterious about anti-bias.

-I know this crazy redheaded chick; maybe people are biased about her red hair or something :).

-She’s born on Halloween.

-My cousin’s birthday is on Halloween too.

-He’s older than me, by 6 years I think.

-Halloween minus 6 = October 25^th = Speak Now Taylor Swift!

∴ Taylor Swift Speak Now à Speac à bias à redhead à Halloween à Cousin à 6 à Taylor on October 25^th!

You follow? Good. So next time you see me staring at nothing, talking to myself, and waving my finger around an invisible chalkboard… let’s be real here – don’t assume I’m practicing my memory.

Be a Nomad - Adding to THE LIST

I’ve always thought it was bizarre that we humans return to the same place (almost) every night. I suppose it’s natural for all mobile creatures to want a constant home, even if it is only for a few months; birds make nests, outdoor cats return to their owners’ garages, my dog won’t leave my driveway without a leash.

I'll use any excuse to brag about my puppy.

But I’m not sure this is the best way to live. Not only does a permanent residence carry a lot of baggage (affectionately called junk. Sidenote: it's taken me five months to finally get settled into my new house), it makes a person easier to track.

Suppose you’ve just committed a nasty crime, like triple homicide (you claim it was in self-defense - they were threatening to starve you of your nightly ice cream sundae!). You’re on the run, and you obviously can’t go home because the police will find you there. You're torn between the proverbial rock (going back but getting caught at your home) and the hard place (needing to clean out the evidence that would undoubtedly lead the police to learn everything about you, including your hiding place). Sorry dude, it's over.

Cavewoman Audrey (and step-twin Rachel) in our natural habitat.

As a nomad, you would have none of those problems. The po would have no address to search and no clues as to where your hideout may be. They probably wouldn't even know you existed (don't get emo on me, that's supposed to be a good thing).

In my perfect world, I would be a hunter-gatherer (you can call me Pocahontas), following the bison as they roam and chasing the seasons as the berries ripen around the world. Maybe I threw my sharpest spear at a fellow hunter, but how will you ever find me? I sleep in a different cave every night.

Pocahontas (and the Queen of Hearts). Now where is that John Smith?

Translate that into the 21^st century. Not so easy. Nonetheless, I want to attempt living a nomadic life just to try it out. (I might add here that I would prefer doing this non-permanent home thing voluntarily, rather than being forced into it by national security.) Timing may be difficult – college is probably not the ideal – but when the opportunity arises, I will be ready with my bow and arrow.

Parkour - Adding to THE LIST

I confess that until yesterday, I thought it was called “hardcore.” I mean, it makes a lot more sense – hardcore is hardcore, what is “parkour”? I’ll let Michael, Andy, and Dwight explain it to you, in honor of The Office premiere tomorrow night.

It’s all about location. A giant soccer field wouldn’t quite make the cut. I’m thinking I’ll set a final goal of parkour along the top of the Golden Gate Bridge. Until then, I’m going to perfect scaling walls and climbing fences with grace (that means not ripping a hole in my pants in an inconvenient location or getting a gash in my head that needs stitches).

Answer to last time’s Name That Movie: Noah Calhoun in The Notebook.

The Birdmen - Adding to THE LIST

They’re called the birdmen. Don’t you worry, feminists, because after I’m done with them, it’ll be called the birdwomen, if not the birdAudrey, or maybe just birdrey. It gets better - when I get the birdsuit, I'm going to double as a flying squirrel this Halloween.

Fast forward to the good stuff at 1:30.

Kudos to Charissa and her fam for discovering my new #1 freefall.

We’ll conclude with a little game called Name That Movie.

“If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.”

I’ll give you a hint. I’ve basically only ever seen 7 movies (on average, 12 times each) in my life. That’s counting each of the Twilights and High School Musicals as separate movies. Tune in next time for the answer!

The National Anthem - Adding to THE LIST

If you’ve ever heard me do Taylor Swift a capella, you might wonder why I haven’t been recruited by American Idol yet. Okay, so maybe I’m not that good (I’d say I fall somewhere between a whine and a yodel), but T-Swizz wasn’t that good at the VMA’s either. At least I wear shoes.

Anyway, I want to sing the national anthem, in front of an audience. Not just in the shower, but at a public event, preferably in a sold-out stadium. Why should my housemates be the only ones allowed to enjoy the purity of my voice? :)

Run the Boston Marathon - Adding to THE LIST

Boston 5k x 5. But don't worry, I'll still come in first.

This is how it will go:

Start line: Alright Audrey, this is it. Jump around, stretch your legs, make it look like you know what you're doing here. Oh hey look, a cute boy! Bring it on, handsome, I bet I can run faster than you!

Mile 2: If this were a normal run, I would be within eyesight of BerryLine Yogurt by now...

Mile 10: Damn, where'd that boy go? All I can see is a sea of old, sweaty men.

Mile 20 (heartbreak hill): Look at... all... those... people... (heavy, exhausted breathing...) cheering. This must be a mirage - they're handing out beers!

Mile 26: I can see the light!

Mile 26.2 (3.5 hours later. It's a lofty goal, I know): Give me my shiny foil blanket, I finished the race!

"It was all worth it for the alien costume."

Zorbing - Adding to THE LIST

It's 1 AM and I can't fall asleep. When this happens, I usually start listing things in semi-alphabetical order until I bore myself to sleep:

- Alabama, Alaska, Arizona...

- Aragon, Orlando Bloom, Frodo... (my housemate and I are watching Lord of the Rings right now - it's either that or Frasier)

- Aimee, Calia, Dayna... (cool words to name your child)

Tonight, though, I'm stuck at the end of the alphabet - zorbing. In other words, the human-size hamster ball. I am Peanut (I've always wanted a pet hamster named Peanut), zooming down a grassy hill.

Roll out.

Drive El Camino - Adding to THE LIST

First, a short history lesson: the Spanish Catholics established a bunch of missions (churches, basically) along the length of California back in the day. If I recall my 4^th grade studies correctly, these Spanish priests built all the missions along a road called El Camino Real, translated to the King’s Highway, running the length of California.

Photo cred: my momma

Hundreds of years later, El Camino is still kicking (knock out “Real” in the name for bonus local points). I’m sure the priests would be happy to know that today their King’s Highway is full of avid believers… of McDonalds, In n Out, and Carl’s Jr.

I would probably compare it to Mass Ave in Boston, except that it is way, way longer. Maybe even as long as the train tracks out here :).

Yes, this is California, not Mexico.

So the plan is to drive through the whole thing. No real point here, besides bragging rights. Not a whole lot to brag about either, unless I manage to make it into the Guinness Records for eating the most chicken fingers and French fries in a single road trip. I knew I’d be famous one day.

Deep Water Soloing - Adding to THE LIST

Imagine climbing a steep cliff, tens of stories high, using only your hands and feet. No ropes, no picks, not even climbing shoes. Just you and the rock, one-on-one. Uh-oh, you’re arms are shaking and your legs are burning, what will you do? Fall to your death? Nah dude, just jump! You’re deep-water soloing – climbing without ropes – and jumping (preferably away from the rocks) when you get to the top (or in the example above, when you’re too tired to do anything else) into the water below.

Black Rock, Maui, Hawaii

Check out this video (kudos to my friend Rob again) of a few of his friends DWS-ing out at Lake Champlain, in New York. If I have ever experienced love at first sight, then this is it:

I realized that I’ve technically tried DWS-ing a few years ago in Maui, Hawaii, but I am declaring it null because it was nowhere tall enough and not nearly cool enough. If you are in the area though, go to the beaches at Ka’anapali and look for the big black rock.

Black Rock, Maui, Hawaii

You’ll see a bunch of people climbing – a few locals showing off their backflips and many more tourists belly-flopping onto their already sunburned chests. Watching the dives and hearing the screams from the beach can be almost as entertaining, though personally I'd just want to climb up and show 'em how it's done.

Nude Modeling - Adding to THE LIST

I recently discovered that nude models get paid well. Goodbye college, hello new career! Well, maybe I should try it at least once before I dump that long-term investment in my education down the drain.. yada yada :)

First step before applying for a full-time position? Talk to someone with experience. Running through my social network, I realized I don't know anyone who nude models. Unbelievable! I consider calling the Career Services center at my university, but I settle for the next best person I could find, moi.

Naïve Audrey: Good money for little work.

Skeptical Audrey: Is it little work? You’re getting paid well for a reason…

N: Duh, all you have to do is stand there, lie there, whatever.

S: Point proven. When’s the last time you were still for more than ten minutes?

N: Easy—

S: --Sleeping doesn’t count.

N: Damn. Well, I could sit.

Christina, friend who can read minds (as interpreted by Loopy Audrey, who doesn’t focus on accuracy): The hardest part is choosing a comfortable position to stay in, and getting back into that exact same position during the next session for the artists. They’ll yell at you if you’ve moved and now their prize sketch/painting/sculpture is messed up.

Both Audreys: (awed silence at Christina’s brilliance)

Conclusion - I’m going to give it a try. Probably for some random class that meets once ever and only for an hour and has sucky artists. My original thought was adult night classes, but for some reason, that doesn’t seem right…

Open Water Swimming - Adding to THE LIST

Yay for post number one!

I went swimming and made a friend. I’ll call him Earl. Earl was wearing a true blue speedo, lime green swim cap, and sky blue goggles. So what? Later, I realized why he looked so familiar - he resembled a world map circa 2050. Tiny blue suit for the bit of surviving ocean, lime green radioactive mold, even white hair where the last remaining glaciers are melting and browned skin for the landfills. A true worldly man.

Anyway, whether he was trying out a new halloween costume or not, Earl competes in open water races.

According to Wikipedia…

"Open water swimming takes place in outdoor bodies of water such as open oceans, bays, lakes, rivers, canals, reservoirs, etc."

…just in case that needed clarification. Like maybe you thought it was a game of human bait and circling sharks. Last one still treading water (not floating because that means you’re dead) wins.

Since it’s been established that open water swimming ideally does not involve large-fanged predators, I’ve added, “Compete in an open-water swim race” to THE LIST.

In other matters, I wonder what color Earl’s wetsuit is.