“Learn a New Skill.” This item has been on my To-Do list since I started making such a list a couple of months ago. I turned to list-making because I didn’t always remember what I wanted or needed to do, and a few tasks were slipping through the cracks.
I haven’t yet crossed “Learn a New Skill” off the list. It makes an encore appearance every few days when I update my list. I’ve dabbled in digital photography, charcoal drawing, writing haiku, and incorporating a serve-and-volley tactic into my tennis game. I’m not skilled in any of them. I might never be. And so “Learn a New Skill” remains incomplete—no checkmark or cross-off on that item.
When I worked with multiple corporate clients as a marketing consultant, I maintained a comprehensive spreadsheet listing all of my projects, their status, required tasks, deadlines, etc. I printed a new version weekly and wrote notes on the pages, then updated and printed it out again for the next week. This way I kept organized and on track. As a novelist, I build a table listing all of the scenes in my book, and for each scene include the point-of-view character, their goals, conflicts, decisions—everything I needed to juggle the many balls of a 300-plus page narrative.
I read in the Harvard Business Review that some people religiously add minor or habitual tasks to their To-Do lists to feel the satisfaction—an actual dopamine high—of crossing them off. “Drink morning coffee.” Check. “Lock the front door at night.” Check. I haven’t gone down that path. Only more important tasks that I might forget go on my list.
I also discovered that writing a To-Do list is not the same thing as doing what’s on the list, and in fact is a way of saying, “I’ll do this later.” Sometimes, later doesn’t come. Case in point: “Learn a New Skill.” Nor have I dealt with the old heating oil tank in my basement crawl space that has been sitting empty since I’ve lived in this house. That task keeps appearing every time I rewrite the list.
I haven’t yet checked off “Pack a go bag” which is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. I’ve researched what items might be included in the bag, but haven’t figured out where I’d be going with a go bag or for how long or under what conditions, and so I’m paralyzed about what actually goes in such a bag or why I should even pack one (civil unrest, natural disaster, global Armageddon?). And so I continue to include the task of “Pack a go bag” each time I rewrite my list.
My To-Do list can become intimidating as more items get added and fewer get crossed off. The need to complete the tasks on the list adds internal pressure and anxiety, and if I fall behind, that must mean I’m failing.
Not long ago I added to my To-Do list “Make a more organized To-Do list.” That felt so meta, but this task I completed. I created subheads instead of having one long list. “House” includes all tasks related to my property, such as “Replace broken cedar siding.” That’s where my neglected oil tank task keeps appearing. “Writing” is another category where I list ideas for blog posts (“Write about To-Do lists!”) or other projects (I’ve got to put together a Pecha Kucha presentation for October). The “Consulting” category lists the bits of paid work I’m still doing. The all-encompassing “Other” category includes going to the library to pick up the book I’ve requested, getting a new bike rack for my car, and figuring out my autumn travel schedule.
Because I keep my To-Do list in my regular notebook, it can become lost among pages of other notes and journal entries and squiggles. Now I’ve started using only green ink for my To-Do list. That way I can quickly find my list if it’s buried among other writing in my notebook.
Creating a taxonomy and using colored ink has taken my To-Do list-making skills to the next level. I think that means I can cross “Learn a new skill” off my list. It feels so satisfying! In its place I’ll add “Achieve enlightenment and inner peace.”
