My L.A. Bucket List

It’s true. Most residents of a city don’t visit its attractions until guests come to town. Today, per my visitor-cousin’s request, I hiked to the Hollywood sign. It was great. What wasn’t so great was the realization that I hadn’t even known that it was possible to hike to the Hollywood sign, and I’ve lived in L.A. for a decade.

So, I’m creating my L.A. Bucket List: things that I want to do in Los Angeles before I die, or at least before I leave L.A., whichever comes first.

Here’s a draft of my list:
• Catch a full moon at Griffith Observatory
• Ride the zipline on Catalina Island
• Hike in Rancho Palos Verdes
• Run in Runyon Canyon
• Bike along Venice Beach (& check out the muscle men)
• Take the Metrorail somewhere—anywhere

What’s on your Bucket List?

Has the NBA Lockout Left You Bored?

If so, here are 5 things to do in the meantime...

1. Call a friend to chat.  You know your friends--no, not the ones on facebook; the others ones.  Give one of them a call. And if they're close enough, call to see if you can drop by to visit.
2. Read a book.  Once upon a time there were these things called books. They consisted of pages, and people read them... I bet that if you read one, you'd feel noticeably calmer after just thirty minutes.
3. Walk to Starbucks or to your favorite local coffee shop.  Reason #1:  You'll burn more calories walking than you would watching Kobe run. Reason #2: You're gonna need to burn those calories 'cause your favorite coffee drink probably has more calories than you care to count.
4. Play a game of pick-up basketball at your local community park or gym.  Or maybe join a league. My cousin joined a league to lose her baby weight, and she's becoming a lean, mean, baby-slinging baller!
5. Think...of something else that you could do. What would you like to do with the two hours that you won't spend watching grown men dribble balls for millions?

Aging Gracefully

This week I decided that I want to be a cool old person.  When I do finally decide to become a card carrying member of the AARP, I want to do it as a vibrant, fun loving senior citizen.

So, I'm working on a plan to maintain my youthful vibrancy and physical flexibility so that I am able to move, shake, rattle, and roll throughout my olden years, without any problems.

Last night, I took a dance class--my first in nearly a year.  I learned that break-dancing is exponentially more difficult than it looks.  Now I know why most breakers are male; it takes a lot of physical strength!

That may be my last break-dancing class, but have no fear, I haven't given up.

Next up...gymnastics!  Surely old ladies can conquer the rings.

The Makings of a Champion

I am fascinated by people who excel above others-- those who are extraordinary, the very best of the best.  I wonder what these people do to stand-out, what their secrets are.  After watching game 6 of the NBA Finals between the Dallas Mavericks and the Miami Heat, I know that there is no secret. It's all very clear.


What does it take to become a champion?


1.  You must practice more intensely than anyone else. (Like Dirk making himself shoot something like 50 consecutive free throw shots before ending practice.)


2.  You must persevere, always.  (Like attempting 27 shots in a game when you started out 1 for 12, to end up with 21 points.)


3.  You can't ever lose site of your goal (What about keeping a picture of the championship trophy in your locker?  Or in the case of Jason Terry, tattooed on your arm?)


4.  Heart trumps talent any day.  (Miami wanted it.  The Mavs wanted it more.  The rest is NBA history.) 


Congratulations, Dallas!  You will go down in the basketball annals as true Champions!

For the Record

Many people spend their entire lives trying to be the first—the first to cross the finish line, the first to get married, the first to buy a house.  NFL football star Reggie Bush is no different.  A 2005 Heisman Trophy winner, he and teammate Matt Leinart were the first pair of Heisman Trophy winners to play together in a Rose Bowl.  In February of 2010, he led the New Orleans Saints to their first NFC championship, their first Super Bowl appearance, and their first Super Bowl Championship.  This month, he will make history again by becoming the first player in the 75-year history of the Heisman Trust to have the trophy stripped away from him.  How’s that for a first?

Reggie Bush became a household name as a player on University of Southern California’s football team. He was a running back, wide receiver, and punt returner.  Fast and flexible, a teammate named him “Gumby,” for his unbelievable flexibility.  He helped lead USC to the 2005 Orange Bowl Championship, breaking records at USC and in the NCAA. He left USC one year shy of graduation to enter the 2006 NFL Draft.  Surprisingly, he wasn’t the number one draft pick – he was number two; but unsurprisingly, he announced his first endorsement deal (with adidas) days before the Draft, the first of what now totals $5 million annually, including deals with Pepsi, Subway, and General Motors.  (Bush is second only to Peyton Manning in endorsement deals for a NFL player.)

With a championship ring to bling on his finger, a hottie celeb girl to flaunt on his arm, and millions more coming, this should have been Reggie Bush’s year to smile, sit pretty, and enjoy the fruit of years of hard labor.  But instead of enjoying this championship year, he has been sitting in hearings and meetings, answering questions about his time at USC:  “Did you receive gifts from sports agents while a student?”  “Did your mom receive presents from sports agents while you were a student?”

Bush has remained quiet, but the Heisman Trust has vocalized its opposition to what it says was illegal activity on the part of the Bush family.  Its voice has been loud and oh so clear: 

• USC was forced to vacate its last wins of the 2004 season (including the 2005 Orange Bowl), plus all of its 2005 season wins
• USC was banned from all bowl games in 2010 & 2011
• USC will lose 30 athletic scholarships throughout the next three years
• USC must disassociate itself from Bush, permanently, meaning that to USC, it will be like he never existed.
• USC must give back the Heisman Trophy that Bush won

Now, that must hurt—to see three years of your hard work, sweat and pain disappear, over night—to be told that what you dreamed about as a boy and worked together with your teammates to accomplish is gone, with one decision.  It must be painful to have the school that you essentially gave your life to for three years publicly disown you, forever. 

Or… maybe not so much.  For Bush, maybe it was never about love for USC, or love for his teammates, or love for the game.  Maybe it was all for the love of money.

Money was what motivated him, after all, to break NCAA rules and accept presents and monetary gifts from sports agents, including a limousine ride to the 2005 Heisman Trophy ceremony.  And money was what motivated him to leave USC one year early to enter the NFL Draft.  And wasn’t money what enticed him to endorse adidas, Pepsi, Subway, and GM?

Now it’s irony that lifts its head, shaking in disapproval, because it’s allegations that Bush and his family failed to repay money to sports agents that gave the NCAA the information that it needed to catch Bush.  If Bush had paid these agents the money that he had promised to repay them, they most likely wouldn’t have helped the NCAA in its investigation.  But if Bush hadn’t taken the money to begin with, then there couldn’t have been an investigation because there wouldn’t have been any wrongdoing.

Bush valued his own immediate wants over those of his teammates, his college’s, and his own long-term goals.  Now, he’s lost what he built with his teammates (along with their trust and friendship), his legacy at USC, and the respect of countless fans.  Plus, he’s lost millions in endorsements that companies would have given him if he didn’t have a history of dishonesty and selfishness.

I hope that all of this has caused Bush to take a look at his past to create a better roadmap for his future.  (Doesn’t that sound like a political campaign ad?)  If so, he can accomplish another first—he can be the first professional athlete of late to realize that character does indeed count.  

A Day At The Park

Saturday was hot. Super hot. I sat at the park, hiding from the sun under the shade of an awning, reading Writer’s Digest. Around the park were familiar sites:  kids running passionately in the color-matted play areas, parents hovering close by.  Birthday balloons swayed in the wind, while lovers cuddled up to each other, despite the smoldering heat.

Then I noticed something out of place: a young man punching the air, running.  And while I’ve come to expect eccentric behavior from my fellow Los Angelinos, I didn’t expect to see someone running at the height of the afternoon heat, punching an invisible enemy.  Yet there he was, doing it with hands bound with white tape, clear sweat running off his sun-baked brown skin.

He didn’t seem crazy; he seemed more concentrated than anything.  I concluded that he was training for something – a boxing match most likely.  Questions floated through my mind: Was he a student? A semi-pro or professional athlete?

When he passed by me the second time, this time walking, I asked him what he was training for. “The 2012 Olympics” he responded, matter-of-factly.  Wow, I thought.  I had never met anyone training for the Olympics.  For an instant, I pictured him entering the boxing ring: a red, white, and blue USA flag positioned proudly over his shoulders.

“I’m working through an injury, though,” he said, lifting up his t-shirt that revealed a black brace over the top half of his chest. My admiration for him increased.  We chitchatted for another minute before he left, off for another round of training.

I want to be more like this athlete.  I want to approach the goals I’ve set for my life with the same level of determination.  Today, I want to be preparing for a goal I’ve set for two years from now.  I want to work towards this goal every day, and on a Saturday afternoon, when most other people are relaxing after a long week of work.  And I want to do it at the height of something — when the sun is at its peak, when I’m most tired — because if I pursue my goal at the height of difficulty, then I can do it anytime.

Before the 2008 Olympics, Michael Phelps was practicing on Saturdays.  On Christmas Eve, he woke before the sun did, to swim.  And on Christmas morning, while his family members lay in bed, he rose early again, to work on his stroke. The results: eight gold medals.

I’m gonna keep an eye out for Brian Jones in the 2012 Olympics. He may just be the next Michael Phelps.

It's SO Easy!

Reebok’s ad for its new EasyTone tennis shoes caught my eye on TV last night. Like SKECHERS Shape Ups, these shoes promise to help strengthen your legs, while increasing tone in your legs, thighs, and butt. Only they’re cuter. “Ooh!” I thought immediately. “Maybe I should get some.”




Then, just as quickly, another part of me countered with, “Here’s another product to help me fix something that’s ‘wrong’ with me.” And then my mind became flooded with a long list of products designed to fix women and make us beautiful, finally. There’s Revitalash, guaranteed to grow your eyelashes, LipFusion, guaranteed to plump up your lips (or Maybelline’s Volume XL Seduction Lip if you just want them to look pumped), there’s Botox, guaranteed to reduce your wrinkles, and the LAP BAND Surgery, guaranteed to permanently control your waistline. And it’s all scientifically proven!




Watching this Reebok ad made me realize that I’m tired of not liking parts of myself. (And I’m not talking about bad habits or poor character.) I’m tired of thinking that I need to be taller, that I need to have and legs that are more toned, plus a tight bottom, perfect for a pair of Apple Bottom jeans. I’m tired of freaking out about the newly emerging grey hairs sprouting in my otherwise brown-haired head. I’m fine to stop assessing my diet if my jeans start to feel a little tight. I’m sick of feeling that I should work out, not because it’s good for me, but because it will keep me looking like I’m 25. Perennially.




What I’m most weary of is the fact that I’ve allowed other people and institutions (mainly the advertising industry), to make me believe that something — no, lots of things, are wrong with me. Despite my instruction in feminist theory in college and my time allowing Scripture to help me see that I “fearfully and wonderfully made,” I have allowed myself to be victimized by an industry that has wreaked havoc on women’s bodies and psyches for decades, if not centuries. Scholarly critique and prayer have not immunized me from its toxic lies, presented in mirage-filled magazines and carefully-crafted million-dollar TV ad campaigns.




What’s even crazier is that a part of me kind of wants the EasyTones. Having them might eliminate the need to work out as much. But buying them would surely be another act of self-hatred, a clear message to my body (and myself) that I am not good enough.




So, instead today I choose to believe what is penned so beautifully in Psalm 139: that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. As is.

Finishing Well

I’m not a big sports fan, but when I do watch sports, I usually just watch the end of the game because what matters most is how it ends.

I think that it’s the same in life.  What matters most isn’t how well we start, but how well we end.   Our final years, months, and days are what stand out the most to people because these are the last memories we leave them with. 

A father who was absent from his son’s life, but restored the lost connection in his final years is remembered not as the absentee father, but as the father who had the strength of character to make amends for years of neglect.  A minister who preached the gospel for decades, but then ended up embezzling money at the end of his career, is remembered not for how he helped people for years, but how he stole.  Former NFL quarterback Steve McNair isn’t remembered as a great football player; He is remembered as the football player who was shot dead by his mistress.

Sadly, our beloved Michael Jackson is another example. He entered our hearts a cute little boy with the soulful voice of a full-grown man.  He exited the public stage, however, a victim of drugs and excessive fame, under a cloud of allegations.

As I’ve thought about Michael one year after his death, what has struck me is how sad I am, not about his physical death, but about the circumstances of his death.  The last decade of his life was filled with myriad tabloid articles, tales of abuse, questions about his sense of identity, and accusations of being an unfit parent.

His death, although technically ruled a homicide, has left some wondering if an addiction to prescription drugs preceded and facilitated the overdose.

All of this has left a shadow over Michael’s memory.  Yes, we have celebrated his music, his impact on pop culture, and his noteworthy humanitarian efforts.  But his legacy remains tainted by a strange mesh of rumors, poor personal choices, and unexplainable behavior.

His family is working hard to restore his public image, as evidenced by the elaborate public funeral, the televised family funeral, and the carefully crafted interviews of Michael’s former staff.

I don’t know if their overtime plays will prove fruitful, though.  Unfortunately, Michael’s game is over, and it didn’t end well.

The Lakers - A Lesson in Love?

One of my friends told me that she applied one of my job search tips (June 14 post) to her dating life, and that it worked! Today, I realized that the Lakers, too, provide insight into our love lives (or at least mine).

All day, I've been debating if I want to watch all of the Championship game between the Los Angeles Lakers and the Boston Celtics. The issue is that I've had too many painful experiences while watching Lakers games. Often, while eyeing the score (especially if it's close or they're trailing), my heart begins palpitating. I swear. My blood pressure ascends, and my stomach feels like I ate a can of bad tuna fish.

But when the Lakers are ahead, (not by too much, cause that's too boring), I enjoy watching. I watch the screen enthusiastically, waiting for Kobe to make some ridiculously difficult shot. But when it's close, then it's difficult for me to keep my eyes on the screen. I check Yahoo! to see if I have any new email messages. I scan facebook for any interesting updates. I work hard to distract myself from the pain I'm experiencing while hoping that the Lakers will win in the end.

I realized that I interact with my love life the same way. If I'm winning, and all seems to be going well with a guy, then I am enthusiastic about him and the situation. I give my undivided attention and I am completely engaged. However, if the score is really close or I seem to be losing (he's giving me mixed messages and he has too many of the signs of the guys written about in He's Just Not That Into You), then I begin to panic. My heart begins to fear breaking and knots begin to form around the tuna fish that definitely is in my stomach.

I want to change the channel - drop him before he drops me. The pain of hoping for something that may or may not happen has become unbearable.

Now, I'm realizing how immature this is. We've all heard that there are no guarantees in life, but I'm seeing that I want there to be. I want to know that my emotions will be safe, and that my hopes (especially the ones closest to my heart) wont' be dashed.

So, what's a girl to do now?

Well, I'll start off by watching all of the Lakers game tonight. I will watch when they're ahead and root when they're behind. I will hope, always.

If I can do it for the Lakers, whom I've never met, then maybe I can do it for the next guy that I'm really into.

What Are You Shooting For?

Watching the third quarter of tonight's Lakers game was like watching a live, play-by-play lesson in tenacity. The Lakers had a twenty-point lead over the Boston Celtics, but would they keep it? I had seen many games where the Lakers managed to lose after having possessed a two-digit lead. To me, they were defending champions, and they were champions at botching it in the final quarter.

Would tonight be the same? Would they maintain their lead, or would they start strong but finish behind? I knew that their intensity level would determine it. They could be tempted to think that victory was all but guaranteed; twenty points was a large number, even an intimidating one. The Lakers could decide that all they needed to do was maintain their lead. Or, they could decide that twenty wasn't enough. They could make it their goal to demolish the Celtics, to send them back to their hotel rooms tired, demoralized, and embarrassed.

And that's exactly what they did. The final score: 89-67.

Watching the Lakers fight complacency and play through pain and injuries schooled me. Do I stop pressing once I reach a certain level of success, thinking that I can coast to the finish line, or do I work with the same determination and sense of urgency that I did to reach that initial level of success?

Hopefully the Lakers will shoot for another demolition and clinch a back-to-back championship.