a world of to-do lists

Anyone who has ever made a to-do list knows that the real pleasure of working your way through one isn't doing each thing, but getting to check it off the list. But in today's world, everyone gets to have that feeling.

Here are some things I have become dangerously close to doing merely to check them off some list:

• Clear my inbox.
• Watch movies on Netflix.
• Listen to and delete my voicemail messages.
• Read articles on Instapaper.
• Read RSS feeds on Reader.
• Catch up on Twitter.
• Make cocktails on Kindred.
• Listen to albums I download.
• Read books from the pile on my nightstand.
• My entire Criterion project.

I actually like doing all of these things (except listening to voicemail - please, dear god, stop leaving me voicemail) but because I have a list of each one that I want to work my way through, an unnecessary level of stress has entered into my process with each one. In some cases, the stress is good: I would probably be living in a ditch somewhere right now if not for my unjustified constant desire to have a clear gmail inbox, since this is the only way I convince myself to pay any bills. But in others, it's totally bizarre and pointless: who cares how many articles I haven't read that I plan on reading? Why would I possibly need to try every drink I want to try?

I know other people feel the same way about clearing their plate of things to do. So my question is what is wrong with us? Why do we want our lives to be uncomplicated and devoid of pressure, only to place unnecessary levels of pressure on ourselves? Why don't I just stop clicking "Read Later"?

Last month, I took a hatchet to my Netflix queue. Gone were the obscure Russian dramas I had read about in some article in 2006; I was no longer oppressed by the dumb superhero movies that I figured I should catch but weren't even supposed to be that good; the latest romantic comedy was finally free of having to jump over 60 movies that had been languishing in the 6-65 spots as more pressing fare passed them by. When I began the purge, I was horrified. What if I want to see that Louis Malle documentary about India in five years? How will I find it? But as I cut and cut and cut some more, a calm spread through me that can only be described as attaining a higher form of consciousness. Now a zen master in the art of technology maintenance, I pushed aside my fears with ease as my queue went from 90 to 45 to a slim 28. "If I am meant to watch a movie," I thought to myself, "it will find me."

Which reminded me of an article on meditation I had been meaning to add to my Instapaper account.