To-Do Lists: Do you write things down just to cross them off?
I like having a record of events.
I love the productivity meme split between “putting things you’ve already on your to-do list just to cross them off is stupid” and “putting things you’ve already done on your to-do list is genius.”
It’s the cousin of the “to back plan or not to back plan” split in the planner world. (Back planning is just where you go back after events have already passed and add them to your planner.)
I think I love the split because it gets to the heart of the question: what is a to-do list for? What is a planner for?
Obviously they are both tools to get things done – to plan the project that is life.
But I also use my as an imperfect record of events.
When I get to the end of the day (or week) and ask: where did today go?! I can look at my list and see. Today I slept later than usual, had a first thing in the morning meeting canceled, wrote this piece, etc. etc.
When I get into a slump and mope about having done nothing ever, I can look back and see very clearly that this is a misremembering of events.
When I’m mired in running late and too little sleep, writing down “morning routine” and crossing it off, then writing down “breakfast” and crossing it off, then writing down “email client A” and crossing it off, begins to create the momentum I need to move the rest of my day forward.
When my entire day gets consumed by unexpected side quests (the best term I have ever heard for distractions and interruptions!) and nothing in my original plan gets done – I think that’s worth noting. Maybe I decide they were completely worthwhile. Maybe I decide I need better procedures for handling side quests and derailments. But either way if I stare at a to-do list with nothing checked off, and no indications as to why, there’s not much I can do with that other than ignore it or be mean to myself about it.
When something happens when you can’t plan. Connections made, milestones reached, long impromptu phone calls with friends – those are worth back planning every single time. The impromptu 4 hour phone call that is a balm to soul and deepened our relationship in incalculable ways? I couldn’t have planned that. And it’s worth remembering every single time. The milestone I knew was coming but didn’t know when? That’s worth noting. The milestone I didn’t realize would be as momentous as it is? That’s worth noting too.
When my body or mind have different plans for my day, I think it’s worth noting – “one hour tending pain spike” or “three hours consumed by grief” or “spacy afternoon, make extra checks on that proposal before sending.” And despite how they feel when I’m in the middle of them, previous records indicate they don’t last forever, even when it feels like they will.
I think there’s joy in planning and joy in spontaneity and joy in the complexities of a life even when it does not feel joyful. And all of that is worth having a record of.
Even if the record is a to-do list scribbled on a sticky note.
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
On putting off and finally setting up a library donation
“It’s only… what good could it possibly do… don’t bother…”
Putting off setting up a recurring library donation
I’ve been meaning to set up a nominal monthly recurring library donation for an embarrassingly long time.
Every time I borrow a book, or return a book, or browse the shelves, I think about it. And mean to do it. And fail to do it.
Sometimes I consciously think:
- “I’ll get to it when I’m at my computer.”
- “I do it the next time I get my wallet out.”
- “I’ll put it on the list for admin time.”
But most of the time it’s more of a soft and sly whisper of a voice, that is very familiar, but does not sound like me:
- “It’s only… what good could it possibly do… don’t bother…”
I doubt I’m the only one who hears this voice. (For the sake of other people’s minds, part of me kind of hopes I am the only one. At the same time, I doubt it and appreciate the company.)
Individualist thinking about collective resources
But I had a realization this morning that finally got me to do it.
That soft, sly, whisper of a voice is speaking individualistically – where a nominal donation by definition does not do much. “Nominal” is right there in the name.
What that voice neglects is that a library is not an individual resource, it’s a collective one. One nominal donation is one nominal donation. But 50? 100? 1,000?? Or more?
The voice is right that one donation doesn’t really matter on its own, but the voice is wrong because one donation doesn’t have to matter on its own. Because we’re not talking about an individual’s resource, we’re talking about a community’s.
Even when any individual action is not the linchpin holding everything together, it still needs to be done.
When the task is too small to bother doing, make the task bigger
I finally did it while writing this piece. It turns out it was not the easiest button to find, and it was not the smoothest checkout process, and it still involved digging out my wallet.
But it is done.
Photo by Shunya Koide on Unsplash
I love a blank page.
But having an ice breaker helps.
Every piece I’ve ever knit has begun with a slip knot. Every set of coaching notes has begun with the date. Journal entries with “good morning”. Designs of all sorts with a spark or a brief or a script.
I love a blank page. It’s like a field of fresh snow – perfect for running though and leaving footprints scattered around the place. Listening to the crunch and squeak. Feeling snow slide into your boot from exuberant running over snow drifts that are a little deeper than you expected. Snow covered trees blending with a snow colored sky as you leave a mark on the world that will one day melt.
I love a blank page.
But having an ice breaker helps.
So consider this an ice breaker for Poetry & Practicalities. It may just be what was percolating along side everything else.
Photo by Wladislaw Sokolowskij on Unsplash
