Soaring above the rocky desert at Skull Canyon, I faced thrills, laughter, and freedom on my first zipline adventure with my aunt and uncle

White water rafting in Bali’s lush jungle felt like magic. Towering trees, icy waterfalls, and adrenaline-fueled adventure down the river.

Then I saw it—the mechanical bull. The dare that could buck back. It sat there in the middle of the room like a challenge waiting for me, quietly mocking anyone brave or dumb to even enough to try.

I never thought I’d end up on a dodgeball court, but here I am, sweaty palms, heart thumping, the smell of gym floor rubber and adrenaline in the air. I am joining the WeHo Dodgeball & Sports League. The first night was absolute chaos.

I crossed “hot air balloon ride” off my bucket list in Napa. This wasn’t a thrill-seeking adventure. It wasn’t about adrenaline or speed. It was about slowness, softness, surrender.

Skydiving didn’t magically make me braver in every aspect of life. But it did remind me that sometimes, the scariest moment is just the step forward.

Last week, I jumped off a bridge. Not metaphorically—like a bold career move or a grand romantic gesture. I literally jumped.

Armed with EMF meters and spirit boxes, our group embarked on a Ghost Tour through some of the most haunted sites in Los Angeles.

I signed up for Level 2 improv at Improv-LA because, why not? 

Welcome to SeaTrek in Aruba, where the helmet is heavy, the fish are glorious, and the selfies are iconic.

Trying Portugal's flesh-eating foot fish pedicure.

Parasailing in Cabo San Lucas was the kind of bucket list thrill I’d been dreaming of — soaring above crystal-clear waters with nothing but ocean breeze and a parachute keeping me afloat. While my mom’s panic over a swarm of hammerhead sharks cut our first flight short, I went up again solo, floating high above the sea in pure, unforgettable freedom.