I love lists. I love making them, lining up my to-dos or to-be-reads or hope-to-bes all in a row of possibilities. I love their logical assertions, or their assumptions of logic regardless of whether any single item has anything to do with any other single item. I love the feeling you get when you get to cross one off and feel as though a job’s been well done.
But I have a habit of making and then poking them idly from a distance with sticks. Or of simply abandoning them entirely as soon as they are composed.
This is a dangerous thing, this making and then abandoning. Because lists have a tendency to grow of their own accord, to become feral and monstrous and hungry. They will attack you in your dreams if you do not attend to them. They will scratch and paw and bite at your inner calm and security.
It’s best to tend them, to bring out the shears and prune them by striking out your accomplishments. Or better yet, by making your lists no greater than you can manage.
Which is to say that other than a few minor sketches in my morning poetry journal, I mostly ignored my list this past week (and many more lists in the weeks before), and I am beginning to grow concerned. So, I post this week with tentative fear and the hope that I can accomplish what I set forth in order to keep myself from being eaten alive.
To Do in the Coming Week
— continue to make progress on the story (actually finishing = triple bonus points)
— write, edit and/or polish 1-2 of my current poems
— write a 500 word article to submit to Matador
— submit a set of poems or a short story for publication
— do 3 walking/running routines for Couch to 5k
— do 5-7 days of morning yoga
— post a youtube video
— art, doesnâ€™t matter what, but something