I'm not one to make lists. I try, like everyone else, but I'll either forget to use the list or I'll just ignore it. I don't think I'm bad at making lists. Rather, I have an aversion to the idea of lists themselves. Especially when it comes to something I feel should be left vaguely esoteric.
It's why I detest the proliferation of self help and guidance manuals. If you need to have a list of 1000 things to do before you die, then I'm afraid you don't really have a life. The same goes for 1000 places to see and 1000 songs you need to hear and all coffee table fodder.
I don't like how lists have pervaded the modern consciousness – how we think and present ideas have degraded into lists. Powerpoint may be a great presentation tool, but before Bill Gates came along, people actually thought through and fully fleshed out business ideas instead of relying to bullet points. While chasing the trend of fitting everything they want into a slide, businesses create buzz words to try and convey complex ideas. So the parade of corporatespeak like synergy, bottom line, all-hands, buy-in and other ludicrous exemplars continue.
Faster communication channels force us to shorten sentences and words, cutting out unnecessary figures of speech and indirect supporting ideas. In the corporate world, terseness is often mistaken for succinctness. Who has time to write a long email when you have a gazillion messages bouncing in through IM and video and soundytes? And who would want to read that long email anyways?
And so I've noticed that people resort to lists. Especially now that so much of our identity is online. How I present myself is a list of books read and interests and companies worked for on various websites. My 'friends' is a list of various college acquaintances, co-workers and people I haven't seen or talked to in a decade.
When people ask me to tell of my traveling experiences, what they really want are lists. What are your favorite places and moments? What cuisines did you enjoy? What are the top beaches? Lost is the sense of mystery that comes with the story, with the tapestry of prose.
I have friends who pull out a list of 50 must-haves when they consider potential boyfriends/girlfriends.
Around this time of year, I see a lot of lists. It's resolution time, and the brain is crammed full. I can't help but look back and try to fit the good and bad experiences into a list of what I should and shouldn't have done. And looking forward, lists provide the comfort of expectations, of simple signposts for the next year, markers against Time's... stretchiness.
It's at this point that my contrary nature rears its head. How can all those days and hours be reduced to any sort of list? How many hopes and dreams won't make the cut?
And so this year, I don't have a list. Instead, I have just one guide:
More passion.
People made lists long before computers and powerpoint. Grocery lists, to-do lists, guest lists, slam books, etc. You can't blame it on all technology.
Besides, I'm biased because I secretly love lists. Even my earliest journals at age 7 are populated by lists.
Posted by: susiederkins | January 08, 2008 at 08:14 PM
Yeah - I think I secretly directed this post to the SusieDerkins of the world. I know lists have been around, I just think all the bad stuff associated with lists are accelerated as they proliferate.
Posted by: j.fisher | January 08, 2008 at 08:56 PM