Recently I found a bunch of gems from years past in my room (those of you who follow me on SnapChat saw my most embarrassing one!), including a little brown book of novel and story ideas.
These days, I just write notes on my phone. I’m a slave to technology. Anyway, I flipped through that little brown book and found, to my surprise, a list on the last page:
- Write books
- Direct a movie
- Grizzly Peak house!
- Own a magazine
- Start a charity
- Found a University
- Coach baseball/soccer
- World travel
- Climb a mountain (seriously…)
Okay. Younger Jeremy was excessively ambitious.
But maybe not? I’m in the final stages of ghost writing a book with my neighbor, I’m currently the JV baseball coach at Las Lomas and this blog was sprung from my world travels last year. Just the other day, I was “climbing” Mt. Everest on my friend’s virtual reality game and remarked how much I really wanted to summit a large mountain someday. And as for skydiving, I’ve done the indoor version – I just have to get past the whole “jumping out of a plane and plummeting towards the hard ground sounds like a recipe for involuntary pants-pooping” thing.
So maybe this little bucket list isn’t so crazy after all? I’ve accomplished or nearly accomplished 30 percent of it, and I’m not yet 30 years old. What happens in the next 32 1/2 years?
Good timing: this morning, my Dad texted my Mom and me about a calendar appointment. He couldn’t remember what it was on his calendar for (mystery solved: a canceled appointment for house painters). I had a laugh at his expense, sarcastically remarking about his forgetfulness: “I can’t wait to be 60! *cry/laugh emoji*”
My Mom responded, “YES you can wait – trust me!”
Now, this is the same Mom who needs to (and does, expertly) toe the line between wanting the best for me (see: my own place, a car, higher-paying job, etc.) and wanting me to fully embrace the adventures of life (see: literally zero hesitation to support me when I announced I wanted to spend all my money traveling for six months).
So this version of Mom was telling me to slow life down and take it one day at a time. And she’s right, because as soon as we do slow life down and squeeze every drop of adventure we can out of it, we’ll find more time to knock items off our bucket list and live more fulfilled.
But I really can’t wait to be 60. Think about it. That’s my entire lifetime up until now, plus five years. That’s insane. That’s SO much time. And of course, it’ll fly by (especially if I get back into a normal job that drains the hours and days away…) faster than I expect. But the opportunity 32 1/2 years offers excites me.
Senior year of high school feels like ancient history…it was less than 10 years ago. If this last decade has felt so long, how will the next three? I don’t know, but I am sure that as I get older in age, I don’t have to get older in terms of closing the door on a fulfilling life.
I suppose I’m contradicting myself. I can wait until I’m 60, because that’s 32 1/2 quality years in which I can do so many hundreds of things and write so many thousands of stories and meet so many gazillions of interesting people.
But when I’m 60, I can look back on all the amazing things I’ve done. That accomplished feeling I expect to have is something I sincerely look forward to. I don’t want those 32 1/2 years to fly by, but I can still look forward to the end of that road.
By the time I’m 60, I’ll hopefully have achieved many, if not all my goals. Hopefully, I’ll be able to scratch out every item on that brown book bucket list. I’ll have written books. I’ll have directed movies. I’ll have dived through the sky. I’ll have seen all the world has to offer and stepped foot on all 7 continents and mastered multiple languages. Maybe I’ll even be lucky enough to have seen the Dodgers win a g-damn World Series by then.
I’ll have raised a family. Because there’s time to do it all in the next 32 1/2 years.
Unless, you know, I don’t do any of those things. It’s up to me to keep pushing forward and traveling and trying new things. To learn how to start a charity and climb a mountain.
I’ve scratched off 30 percent of my bucket list. That’s a start, but I can’t wait to see where I’m at when I turn 60 – and how far I still have to go.