Most of you know how obsessed I am with lists and
that at times I can barely function without them. But I do not have a bucket
list because I think keeping a bucket list is a pretentious thing to do and you
all know how much I hate pretention. Just because you have a bucket list does
not mean you will achieve anything on it. And having cool things on your list
does not make you cool.
And ask yourself this: what happens if you die suddenly
and then someone finds your bucket list and there is a ton of stuff on it that
you never got around to doing – how sad is that? People would think you died
unfulfilled and how embarrassing is that? “Ah, poor old Colin, he wanted to run
with the bulls in Spain but the closest he got was being kicked in the balls
during a soccer match.” Or, “Check this out – Helen wanted to cross off ‘Go to
Paris’ from her bucket list but all she managed to do was cross off ‘Midnight
In Paris’ from her Netflix list.”
When I die there will be a lot of things I haven’t
done that I would have liked to, but no one is going to know about it.
But I think, really, it just comes down to my
jealousy, pure and simple. Because, unlike Helen, I can cross off “Go to Paris”
from my list, but I cannot cross off “Have someone list me as their emergency
contact on an official form”; I can cross off “Attend a professional tennis
game at Wimbledon’s Center Court” but I cannot cross off “Have someone call me
before they go to sleep because mine is the last voice they want to hear.” You
know, those little, everyday things that normal people (i.e., not fat lonely
losers) take for granted.
