the pursuit of quality in a fleeting life

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White Wonderland



The craziest thing I have ever done recently happened.  I did not plan it, I didn’t even know that I where I was going and what I was doing until I got there.  In the middle of nowhere in the rolling hills of what I think is San Diego, there was a discreet operation of dare devils and aerialists at work.  When we arrived, I was totally surprised and blown away.  I could not do anything besides smile and think, “Am I really doing this?!?!?!”

We signed our lives away, and the waiting game began.  Under a large shade tree, on a crooked bench, we waited, waited, and waited.  There was ample time to back out and run away, however, we persevered and finished the waiting game to victory.

After two hours of waiting, we were finally suiting up in the brightly colored parachuting suits, harnessing into our life-saving straps, and meeting the person of whom our lives hung in the balance of – literally.  Amped up and adrenaline pumping, we were more than excited and more than terrified at the proposition we had so eagerly signed up for.  We continued to wait until our small single engine airplane was ready to take up a diverse group of ten.

When the green light was ready (figuratively speaking) we all headed to the runway and hopped onto the simple bench in the plane as quickly as we were to jump out of the same plane.  Strapped in and heart-beating furiously, our air mobile jetted down the runway and straight up into the blue skies.  We kept going up, up, and up.  the fifteen-minute flight seemed like forever until we finally reached 13 thousand feet. When we reached our target altitude, the guy sitting right in front of me confidently lifted the plastic sliding door of the plane and propped himself for a minute in front of the gapping hole until he felt it was high enough to jump!

Surprised by the speed and reality of jumping out of a plane, I immediately started freaking out. The first tandem group jumped and then it was my turn.  Freaking out.  I hesitantly moved over to the door.  Gripping my vest with the security of never letting go, I put my head back on my instructor’s shoulder and braced myself for an experience that would take my breath away.

Jumping out of the plane, I could not hold the uninhibited need to scream and release all of the tension of this insane experience.  Falling, falling, falling.  I could feel my face peeling away from me, the ferocity of wind pushing against my entire body, the inescapable breath of calm air as the instructor pulled the parachute and our quickly falling bodies came to a drastically slower speed.  Gliding through the air, hovering so high above the earth, we could see for miles and miles.  The view was amazing and the experience absolutely irreplaceable.  Back and forth, around and around, we drifted slowly back to the firm, solid ground that seemed so secure after such a traumatic ride.

Skydiving has been the most exhilarating experience I have ever been through.  I am quite confident I will do it again, but until then, the thought of what I experienced that afternoon will continue to put a huge smile on my face and goosebumps of excitement all over my body.

Thanks M!

Life is beautiful


It has been forever and I have not added anything new to this long lost blog. I think beginning today, I will be taking a new approach to this blog.

“the pursuit of quality in a fleeting life”

That has been my mission statement for this blog, however, I have failed to recognized that quality is just the mere fact of living life the best we can. Therefore, I will now concentrate on those things that bring quality to my life. I will challenge to recognize a new quality of life that will be an indicator for the true value of the combined total of our experiences = life.

Today, I would like to recognize that it was a celebration of my aunt’s 25 dedicated years to God. An amazing devotion and a true role model to us all. Thank you Aunt Cecilia for teaching us about patience and self sacrifice. We love you so much!

Review: An American

Recently I had the displeasure of spending some time with an American.  No, it wasn’t a date gone wrong, it was my rental Dodge Avenger in the most primary blue that the skies derive its color from it.

First, the car rumbled like a tractor mowing across the lawn.  In my case, I was trying to mow across the speeding freeway ahead of me making my way with only the most minuscule sense of motivation to actually move.  Coming from someone who has driven a Lexus, and even the cheapest model in the Toyota Corolla line for that matter, I could barely achieve the efficiency of a 90 year-old grandmother.  Either from the engine being ill-fitted or the glass windows too thin to block out the exterior noises, the radio paid little consolation to the roaring metal compelling my own existence to proceed.

Second, the car lacked all functionality.  From the manual headlights to the radio having to be turned on and off upon entry and exit, my irritation for such simple niceties in life could not have been fulfilled.   There are no graces when the car is locked, rather a resounding honk from the car horn.  There is no finesse when the ignition is lit up and the car is still in complete darkness, only waiting for your resolute command to turn on its lights.  There is no sweet melody to the radio greeting you when you turn the car on, only silence until you have settled into the faux leather seats and decided to take away the pain with the countless commercials played on public radio (but that is whole other on its own).  Thank goodness I am not in the wild heat of summer, or else I would have scalding third degree burns on my entire backside.

Lastly, the vehicle (if it so chooses to call itself that) simply had NO style at all.  I understand that the American way of life has certainly moved far ahead in its time, however, the engineering in this vehicle was eons behind its consumer.  The car simply has no style.  From the color of the car that only a five year-old Hot Wheels collector would appreciate, to the grossly uncomfortable interior that would rival those of rides at Disneyland, I was severely disappointed.  The car looked like it wanted to be on the race track, but was laughed off of it because it was trying too hard.

I can promise even if I were to receive an American car for free, I would not dare drive it off the lot.  I would immediately sell it to the next best bidder.  I’d also throw in a prayer because after such a crappy purchase, they would want to run the car and themselves over a bridge.

Weekend in paradise, in the city.

the key to luxury.

A few months ago, I was lucky enough to spend a couple nights that the renowned monument, The Beverly Hills Hotel.  Nicknamed the “Pink Castle,” this is where all of the whos whos and whats whats of the entertainment industry stay at when they are in town or just want to escape from the city.  Well anyways, on to my experience.


The Bell Curve

(The amazing Pantage Theatre as produced for The Phantom of the Opera, from 3rd row)

It seems that in life, the theory of “The Bell Curve” is everywhere.  Especially present is when we are faced with the trying subject of life.

Recently, I was audience to an amazing performance of Andrew Llyod Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera.  The Pantages Theatre was as gorgeous as ever, the stage as dramatic as the costumes, and the crowd as varied as the fish in the sea.  Noteworthy, however, were two more matured women who were seated right behind us.  Inept to the world beyond their hearing aids, their commentary and dialogue intermittently dispersed throughout the show dampered the spotlight placed on stage; however, allowed us to enter another that was just as curious.


Life’s a b!tch, imagine dying.

(Pray a little more, love a little more.)

I don’t necessarily know what I was thinking when I titled this posting, however, it reminds me that life is gonna suck at times, but not ever enough to end it so suddenly.  It is not my intention to make this blog about personal beliefs and controversy, but I’m going to do it anyways.