Rainy Day Monday

So going for a bike ride today didn’t pan out as well as I had hoped.

Since I’ve gotten back from college, I’ve been trying to get back into shape. While I was away at college, I kind of sort of definitely put working out and my general health on the back burner, resulting in a significant decrease in muscle mass and confidence in my physical abilities. So I said no more! In shape I shall become!

User:Extremepullup performing a muscle-up - a ...

No worries, I’m still completely incapable of that feat. And probably will be for some time.

But even though I have goals to complete a marathon at some point in my life (and may consider training for a half-marathon soon…) I’ve been enjoying biking because there’s significantly less impact on my joints and feet. I have weird feet that like to seize up a mile into running. Could be considered an obstacle to marathon running.

But back to biking. I had finally finished up my work for my internship for the day, and figured that leaving the apartment would be good for my sanity. Even though it was cloudy outside, I figured that since it had rained earlier, I was in the clear.

I was wrong.

The first part was great. Lots of hills in Northwest DC, but it was a good strain since it was early on. I had learned from an earlier bike ride to get the big hills out of the way earlier, and it was especially good that I did today.

The downpour started when I turned onto 36th Street. I stopped under a tree for a while, hoping that the rain would abate and I wouldn’t have to sacrifice my cell phone to the waters. Not that I really needed to worry. My phone’s pretty cruddy as it is; I have one of those starter LG phones that has the capability to text, call, and take pictures. That’s about it. I’m happy for it in these moments, where I don’t feel like I would lose anything particularly important if it fell out of my pocket, into a puddle, and flowed into the Potomac.

I stayed under that tree for a while today, watching the rain pour down around me as I sat on my bike, leaning against the curb. It was peaceful, and a pleasant relief from staring at a computer screen. Standing there, feeling the rain slide down the leaves and fall on me, I felt more alive that I’ve been letting myself lately. It’s too easy to set your sights to an upcoming event, willing the days in between to melt away until you can get to what you truly want. It’s a sad way to live, honestly. I’m ashamed of myself for doing it.

I think the problem I’m having right now is that I’m not sure what I want to do with my life, so I don’t really know where to push forward my efforts. I’m not feeling particularly passionate about anything, except for writing, but even that manages to get put on the back burner because I feel as though I should be dedicating myself to other pursuits, to finding a job, to occupying myself more “productively”. I doubt that much I’ve done lately could be considered as productive though.


I do have to remember that in order to be a writer, one must write. It seems like a simple rule, one that should not be difficult to follow, but sometimes this is my crux.

Maybe it becomes harder to write fiction, especially third-person, because I’ve spent so much time writing in first-person (I have a journal besides this blog, but that’s more for me). Let us hope that motivation will bring productivity and purpose.

That, or I need to start biking in the rain on a regular basis. I’m not certain how I feel about that.

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A Push Forward on Bucket List #7 and Wish List #1

I understand that it’s been some time since I’ve written. Forgive me, oh great large internet audience that I have (queue awkward silence).  But the exciting news is that YES, I did get that internship I was interviewing for, and YES, OH GOD FINALLY YES, I do have a job! Admittedly, this job doesn’t start until August, and it only goes until October, so very shortly I will be right back in the same position I am in now, but I’ve chosen to ignore that part.

Of more interest is that this new job of which I speak is on a sailboat. In particular, on the Schooner Mary Day off of the coast of Maine. EXCITEMENT!

Namely because this wonderful opportunity will hopefully/definitely help me on the the path to accomplishing Bucket List Goal #7 and Wish List Goal #1: namely, to learn how to sail a large sailboat (WL #1), and to eventually be able to sail across the Atlantic Ocean. Baby steps people, baby steps.

And depending on how you look at this excellent opportunity, it is indeed a baby step. I’ve been hired for the position of Assistant Cook on board of the Mary Day, helping to prepare meals for the passengers and crew. Luckily though, due to the nature of the crew organization of the ship, I get to still help out with the boat aspects, and if I desire, learn how to sail this 90-foot long boat of beauty. My question would be: why in the world would I not want to learn?


And here she is, the Schooner Mary Day! Taken from the website.

Maybe I feel this way because I’ve always been attached to the ocean. Or any body of water, really. My father figure loves to retell the story of one time when we went to the beach and I asked him if I could go in, only up to my ankles, I swore. He acquiesced, which was a bad idea from the get-go. Next thing he knew, I was paddling around in the cold, March ocean, smiling as I dove in and out of the waves. Maybe I was an idiot that time. I get over it. But in some sort of capacity, bodies of water, the ocean in particular, seem to call to me, and always put me more at ease. Is there anything better than staring out into the ocean, or across a river, or across a lake? A sense of peace is able to descent upon you and make you think outside of yourself, calming your breath and putting a smile on your face. You can listen to the crash of the waves, follow the ebb of the tide or the ripples of the water, and lose yourself in its simplicity.


It’s not the ocean , but it has its own beauty and simplicity. Or so I believe.


I’ve been told that I think too much.

This is probably true.

But I get over that too.


Needless to say, I’m excited. Still nervous about what to do with my life afterwards, but I have a feeling that something will come along at some point. Now I just need to heavily confirm the start date for my next adventure.

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One of Those Days

It’s been one of those days where I feel as though all I’ve done is stare at my computer. And that’s probably true, except for when I’ve been staring at my Kindle Fire or at the TV, procrastinating the work that I needed to do on my computer.

Job searching is tearing me apart. I’ve been home in DC for only five days, and I can’t handle looking through job listings anymore.

In all fairness, I’ve already had some nibbles, though nothing outrageously serious. I actually have a Skype interview tonight at 1:30am for an unpaid internship with a magazine. Trick is, by doing nothing all day, I’m tired right now. It probably doesn’t help that I had an interview at the same time last night for the same place that was literally six minutes long. But, inversely, this could be a great opportunity. I’ve embraced the fact that I should chase every opportunity, because I don’t know the awesome places it could lead.

Except for the “awesome opportunity” that my father figure postulated to me today. I have no interest in running a restaurant at 21, particularly not in the middle of the countryside of Maryland.

Maybe this sounds spoiled of me, turning down a job. But just imagining myself standing in this hotdog shack (for that’s essentially the “restaurant” he wants me to run–a one-room off-brand fast food joint, complete with soft serve machine and line grill), staring at the ten cars per hour that pass by, none of them stopping in. I see myself forlornly looking off into the distance and trying to imagine a life with something related to adventure, or at the very least surrounded by people my own age who are also feeling the dregs of life in the work force. I see this, and I want to start to cry.

I can work in restaurants, and I will probably work in another restaurant during my lifetime. But I’m definitely not in the place in my life where I want to tie myself to a business, putting my heart and soul into a building that I can’t leave. Nope. Nuh-uh. Sorry. Especially not that building. Of course, there are worse things in the world, but I’m saving that as a last option right now.

Well, hopefully this rant will help me get through the next hour I need to stay awake for my interview. Wish me luck!

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Bucket List #15 and #16

Mostly because I feel that the two go hand and hand. You know, attending college, graduating college…

In all fairness, just because someone attends college doesn’t mean that they graduate. Sometimes other plans get in the way, and I can respect that. At least, to a certain degree. There are definite life events that can prevent a person from graduating, such as illness, death, or a change of heart. But to not finish because of being wishy washy about a major, or about actually going to class…eh, not so sympathetic anymore.

But in relation to me.

I always felt like it was expected that I go to college. It was only after getting in that I realized what a big deal it was to my family.

I am the first person in my immediate family to have ever gone to college. Hell, on my mother’s side (which is the only side I really know, so it’s the one that really counts for something) I’m the only one who graduated from high school, at least in the States. I’m not really sure if my grandfather graduated from high school in France, but as there was that whole small deal of World War II going at some point during that time frame, I’ll let it slide.

I just remember my high school graduation, and the giant fuss my mother and my grandmother made. They planned out this whole backyard party for me and my extended family, buying a sheet cake that had to be almost four feet long. I remember being embarassed, feeling like they were making a big deal out of something that was so commonplace and expected. But it wasn’t, not to them. For my grandmother who had come over to America in her teens to do domestic work so as to send money back to Colombia, for my mother who didn’t finish high school while a teenager, this was a big deal.

So from that perspective, it’s impressive that I ever saw college as the immediate next step. It’s even more impressive that I received scholarships out the wazoo to finish college with. And even more impressive that I graduated Magna Cum Laude, becoming a giant nerd in my eyes and the pride and joy of my family. But no pressure.

College was a ride, and in many ways I can’t believe it’s over. It would take way too many individual blog posts for me to detail the ways that I’ve grown through my experiences, through the new friends and old friends, the classes, the personal trials, the amazing relationship that I got to leave college with. Maybe I’ll go back and relive some of those moments later, particularly as they may or may not relate to other items on the bucket list. But let’s put it this way: Miami was an excellent choice.


My lucky piece of arm candy. Via Facebook.

And now that I’ve graduated and had to start looking into the wonders of the real world, I can start appreciating just how much of a hiatus or transition space college was from “real” life. Especially the college I went to. Many of my peers at Miami did not seem conscious of either the monetary or social struggles they would soon face or that some of their peers currently faced. In the OxBox, poverty didn’t exist beyond not having enough money on your meal plan, so you might have to ask for some more money from your parents. A charmed existence, in many ways, but still filled with people that could come down to earth. At least, within my friends on the periphery.

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Oh, forgot to mention that I don’t actually have my diploma yet. Technically, my graduation is still “pending”.

Still, I wouldn’t have chosen a different school. Well, maybe. But I’m still pretty happy with how college panned out, in general.

No point in not being at this point, right? Right?


Friends after Miami’s Holi Festival, 2013. Via Facebook.

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Welcome to The Bucket Wish List

And we’re live!

This is a project I’ve been thinking about for a while, but wasn’t so certain  how to conceive. You see, I’ve tried blogs before; well, one or two. And the problem was that I rarely had enough of a motivating factor behind what I was writing. It was like a diary without actually being able to be personal. Ew.

But not this time! This time, my blog is a challenge while being a revelation of the character within.

I plan on documenting my way through my personal Bucket List and Wish List.

Though many people have heard of Bucket Lists (and are no doubt wondering why a 21 year old would be concerned with such a topic), a Wish List may come across as something different. But never fear. I like explaining.

In all honesty, I could probably combine the two things. They both entail of things that I want to do. But the Wish List, however, is a list of things that I want to learn, skills and trades and hobbies and whatnot. They involve time and practice and dedication, and thus will likely not be mastered quickly.

The Bucket List has to do with THINGS I want to do or PLACES that I want to see; the Wish List is more concerned with things or skills that I want to learn, that I will be able to do other things with and that will make me feel accomplished.

Because I’m sure that that’s all this is about, right? Feeling accomplished? Feeling alive?

I’ll take it, because I honestly need something of a creative/adventuresome outlet to push me through the frustrating and depressing process that is the job search. To all my fellow recent grads (or not so recent), we share each other’s pain. If we know what we want, if we don’t know what we want, it makes no difference. The process sucks. While I completely understand the lengthiness of the process from the business person’s perspective (i.e. I know that they actually want to hire amazing people that, I don’t know, actually fit in and want to work for them forever), I just want to feel the love of the acceptance letter.

This will be a perpetual feeling of despair and bitter hope if/when I pursue a career/hobby as a writer. The woes of the creative spectrum.

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