Working Without a Net

Some time during college I think, I became a list maker. Not a "formal" list maker who keeps neat, organized, long-term lists sorted by topic and category. Nothing neatly structured like a palm-pilot full of hierarchical data. Not a grand list of life goals, not simply a mundane list of groceries, not just to-dos. My lists are always a mixture of every possible category, topic, or item—chores, book titles, financial plans, movie titles, people to telephone, thank-yous, upcoming events, exhibits not to miss, bike repairs, home repairs, all manner of other repairs, long-term plans, groceries, future big-ticket purchases, URLs, addresses, telephone numbers, computer system information, interesting curiosities to research later (like sunspots or ladybug houses or biodiesel), articles to read, restaurants, bills to pay—and are found in any number of forms, including but not limited to:

The phrase "look at lists" has been written on more than one of my lists. Also, "find other list."

Starting around every January, the word "taxes" appears on countless lists.

List items are not usually laid out neatly line by line, but are more often written in a variety of sizes and styles and colors and at varying angles. Some items are circled, some encased in boxes, some underlined. Finished items are usually crossed out completely.

I think lists allow for procrastination; tasks are often easier listed than done.

I have boxes of dead lists I haven't bothered to check over for completeness and thus have been unable to throw away. Yet when I do determine a list can be discarded it is a huge relief to rid myself of it.

I rarely see my friend George, who is a chef, make a list. Lists of his that I have found in my house are simply for produce or ingredients he must order for the next day's work. His lists are disposable almost as soon as they are written.

George always remembers things; I think he trusts his brain more than I do. Though he is writing a restaurant guidebook at the moment, I do not believe he is keeping many notes on the 100+ places he has visited. I always want him to write stuff down; it makes me itchy, even though he's never forgotten anything important that I know of.

Maybe I slipped one too many times and became afraid to trust my brain anymore; I can't remember anything because my brain is out of practice. Or maybe I can remember things but simply think I can't.

I suppose I could make a resolution to go for a fixed period without using any lists to try and retrain my brain to remember things better. Seems like an interesting idea; I'll make a note of it.