To-do lists occupy an ambivalent place in my life, and that’s a problem because I make a lot of to-do lists. Some are literal to-do lists, notepads on which I write bullets with tasks. Some are the stereotypical lists that contain the errands that I need to attend as a matter of practical necessity. In other cases, they’re closer to lists of ideas that I want to investigate or experiment with. Still others are notional to-do lists, such as a list of articles or videos saved for future reading or viewing. For example, Safari has a feature called “Reading List”, which lets you bookmark online articles that you come across but don’t want to read right away. Similarly, YouTube has the “Watch Later” function to bookmark a video, without even clicking into it. In both cases, what I end up with is a literal list of webpages or videos that are now categorized as “to be looked at”, so to speak. The ease of these functions means the lists grow quickly.

Having lists like these always felt, on some level, like a burden. Each list was a document of tasks that remained outstanding and might be pressing or overdue. Returning to the list was not a particularly pleasant sensation, and the primary motivation was to get through it and free myself of the old, accumulated obligations. When the list was long, I imagined how good it would feel when all the items were done. Sometimes, I never really got through it, and I instead entered into task bankruptcy. That is, I would arbitrary eliminate all the remaining items and start fresh. Sometimes I would make a concerted effort and actually get through it, often thinking it was a waste of time driven by vanity. Of course, when I did do this, after a brief feeling of achievement I would stop enjoying it and quickly repopulate the list. The empty list was not pleasant to look at either, seemingly a symbol of either delusion or resignation. Soon, I would have a list just as long as the old one. Despite this, though, I noticed that the new list wasn’t burdensome in the same way. Looking at it didn’t elicit feelings of annoyance; it felt exciting.

The goal, I realized, is not to have an empty to-do list: the goal is to have a fresh to-do list. The list might never be reduced to zero items, even if only for a moment; and that’s fine so long as the contents are constantly changing and nothing stays for too long. The real problem is a fully or partially static queue, one that’s made up of items that have been there, untouched, seemingly forever. You’re sick of looking at them. These are often based on a vague sense of obligation, a feeling that you should do something, but devoid of any conviction of necessity or desire. Inevitably, these things are always ignored or pushed back, but, especially once they’re already on the list, they’re sustained by an unpleasant sense of commitment and remain on it. What task bankruptcy had achieved for me was to eliminate these items.

The to-do list should not be seen as a definitive record of tasks to accomplish, with the implicit goal of having nothing left to do. It’s a flow of priorities. An item on the list is not done so as to be struck out and bring the list closer to completion. Rather it’s done so as to be replaced by another a new item, maybe even one that derives from the first. Sometimes, the completed items return with the passage of time. Ideally, the replacement is wholly new, something that rejuvenates the list by virtue of being unfamiliar and interesting. The list requires constant tending, which involves not simply doing things on the list but periodically eliminating things that are weighing down the list through their persistent presence. A good to-do list is a full but constantly changing to-do list. There can be peace in that.