I miss my lists.
As part of my new commitment to creativity, I decided to abstain from list making for a time. You know, fly free, take a walk on the wild side. It's been 4 days since I made my last list and I am jonesing.
For almost every day of my adult life I have made a list of things "to-do." Those lists bring order to my world. I know that everything will be alright as long as I do the things on the lists. Sure, the earth is getting hotter and the economy already tanked and I owe tens of thousands of dollars in student loans and I am overeducated and underemployed, but the lists are the road out of despair.
Without the lists, I feel lost. Oh sure, I still manage to do things, but those things don't count because there is no list to mark them off of. It is the marking off that brings me real satisfaction (I prefer making a definitive line through each action item as they are completed, checkmarks are too tentative for me). With each item I mark off I am filled with a sense of accomplishment. I am only good enough when I do enough. The lists are the rods that measure my self-worth.
What will become of me without my lists?
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