Last night, I was down in the garage in my pajamas bending over a large metal filling cabinet and dripping sweat from the Phoenix heat, trying to dig up a life list that I wrote when I was 22 or 23 years old.

I went looking for it with the intention of posting it here. Yeah. Only problem is that when I found it and ran back inside to the cool embrace of my air-conditioned bedroom to read it, I discovered that in some ways it is a wildly embarrassing document. For instance if someone were to send me a Freedom of Information Act request asking to see this personal record of my younger self — I would have to send it back redacted, black marker lines striped across the page. Absolutely, no doubt about it.

On the other hand, looking closely I’ve got to admit, I feel a sense of restrained pride at the number of items I’ve completed on this list.

Not to mention how weird it is to see that some of these things weren’t just fancy (though many were) but were the beginnings of real life-shaping goals that I’m still pushing toward.

Seeing the lines of personal information blacked out reminds me that mistakes have been made, and that is ok. I am still here learning, growing, editing. If my personal record were subject to disclosure I’m all right. And, maybe most important – it’s time to make a new list. I will keep you posted on the progress of that.