"Our future depends powerfully on how well we understand this cosmos, of which we float like a mote of dust in the morning sky."
If the Earth is a mote of dust, what am I?
Easy: I'm just me.
Here is my list of things I want to do before I die, in no particular order:
Publish/finish my novels.
Go hang gliding.
Touch dry ice.
Introduce my cat, Goblin to my big brother and sister-in-law's cat, Chloe.
Fly on the Virgin Galactic (anybody want to give me $200,000?)
Write about flying on the Virgin Galactic.
Have Elton John sing "Rocketman" to me.
Go to Alaska and meet a bear.
Be a Verizon Cell Phone Tower Fix-it Man.
Take a cosmology class.
Meet Terry Pratchett.
Learn how to drive a tractor trailer and/or a backhoe.
Hug my mom. Pull my dad's beard.
Buy a nice writing desk and put it in a room with a window and a rug and a book case.
Watch my little brother play a show on drums.
See the aurora borealis, possibly while I'm in Alaska.
Any more suggestions?