Another Damn List.

Everybody talks about their "list" of shit they promise themselves they will do before they die. And when people talk about their "list," I wonder if they will end up in their death bed, bald and naked, hooked up to so many cables and wires that you truly can't tell the difference between them or the back of a television set, clutching the crumpled old list with the remaining strength that they have in their body, weeping softly while looking at that one thing that was never crossed off.

Okay, sure. I've got my handful of things that I won't let myself not do. I will get married on a vineyard. I will climb the Sydney bridge. I will ride an elephant. I will move somewhere long enough to adopt an accent. But I don't have a list of 100. I've got a list of, what, four? In high school, some dumbass teacher gave out an assignment for her students to come up with a list of 150 things they will do before they die. And before it was due, I remember sitting at the lunch table and everyone was comparing goals, scribbling down meaningless ones that really didn't matter to them at all, just to get the assignment finished. I thank God that I wasn't enrolled in that course. Really, I think I would have made a list of 150 things that I don't want to do in my lifetime. Avoid getting lockjaw. Never buy underwear from a thrift store. Never get lost in Mexico. Try not to spontaneously combust. Don't have sex with a woman. You know, common things.

I think having just a few goals that you truly strive to accomplish is perfect. Not having any goals is pointless, and makes life purposeless. And having too many turns those desires into a to-do list, which really sucks the fun out of it all. So I say, all of you with lists, pick a couple that are honestly important to you, and torch the rest. How about you make sure you're on your deathbed thinking back on the things you achieved, clutching onto those you love instead of the things you never did.