Today is Saturday and I have 2-1/2 more days in Paris. As you can imagine, I’m beginning to panic about how I’ll fit in the things remaining on my list. The Museum Quai Branly, the Museé D’Art Moderne, plus my last two arrondissements, the 15th and 17th. Tomorrow I’ll visit Vitry-sur-Seine, a art-rich community outside the city limits.
As I sit here and type, I realize how closely that feeling mirrors my life. I am in the second half of my life, the last stretch. I have limited time to do all the things on my ever-expanding bucket list.
After these walks through this great city, I want to read everything about Paris I can get my hands on, see all the old movies set here. I’d love to take a French course so when I come back, I’ll be able to form relationships with those who live here.
I’m dying to go back to El Salvador where I lived as a child. Vietnam’s on my list as are places in South America and Africa.
I want to go back to school, maybe at Parsons or NYU for a summer course. I am so energized by young creative people and would love to work alongside them in a college setting.
Oh, and then there’s my career. Even after 30 years, I crave more of it. I want to get more proficient at Photoshop and other programs that allow me to be more fluid as I translate the designs in my head. And social media, which changes daily, is like a big ol’ puzzle to me – it’s almost addicting.
I also want to put into a book the writings I’ve done on the side, the ones I’ve not published on my blog. I want to make sure I say to those I love the thoughts I have on my heart. I can’t run out time, leaving certain things unsaid.
So for my 60h birthday this coming month, maybe I’ll treat myself to a writing course, maybe a week-long course in New York, or maybe one at home. And maybe I’ll just send out my query package to the agent in New York who first told me I should write a book.
I can’t waste any time. I’ve got so much I want to do.