2019: The Bucket and F*** It Lists

As we awaken from the holiday sugar coma, waist deep in wrapping paper and plastic that will live eons in the earth, here comes New Year’s Day, lurking around next week, sneering like a punk ass gangster. And after the hangover of 1/1/19, we herald the vast nothingness that is January, February, and March. The wild bipolar ride of the holidays is about to whipsaw a bunch of us into the bloated grey winter where we’ll just hang on until some brave tulip finds its way out of the frozen mud. Pretty uplifting, eh?

Round this time of year in decades past I used to make aspirational lists that now seem shamefully new-agey because I totally bought the pop culture around “visualizing prosperity” and all the merchandizing crap sold by life coaches who drink too much. Yes, ok, I admit I actually wrote out a check in the millions of dollars – payable to myself from the Bank of the Universe – and stared (no, burned) a hole in the stupid thing hoping for a windfall.  My restless soul created New Year’s mantras around love and money because, you know, pathetic grasping and all that.  Well, none of it amounts to a hill of beans (whatever that is, but I’m sure it’s not much).  In the long cold winter, and most of the other time, doesn’t it sometimes seem that mostly we’re just hanging around, waiting for something fun to happen?

 Lately, since I just no longer give a rat’s ass about achievement for some reason (likely related to a liberating loosening of the cultural binds you start snipping after 50), I’ve simplified the New Year’s resolution problem. On December 31^st I’ll make two lists:  My Bucket List, and my Fuck It List.  The latter is way longer than the former and a lot more fun. It’s simple: what are you over, friend? I mean, what are you just gut-sick over? Ah, there you go.  Put it on the Fuck It List 2019.

 My Bucket List is short because I’ve done so much of the stuff I’ve wanted to do: raised a great family, lived and worked outside, saw the Eagles win the Super Bowl, galloped through the Rockies, hiked for 17-days in the wilderness, lived at the beach and in the mountains, and collected adventures like pine cones. So, I’m deeply grateful for the life I’ve carved out like ski tracks on an endless slope; but I’ve got this burgeoning Fuck It List that creates an exhilarating expanse of time and space for me.     

 For example, a long-time Fuck It List agenda includes all things Christmas –  I don’t bake, buy presents, send cards, decorate, overeat, go to parties, or engage in what my students would call “fuckery” around the holidays.  I do love watching other people have fun, open presents, bake cookies, overeat, and am happy to engage with little kids and happy parents on any level any time.  Rid of all holiday obligations I feel no stress, have plenty of time, and never suffer that gluttonous overload of fake mirth that can saturate a weary soul, like the woman who cooks a holiday meal for 30 people and then just sobs alone, feeling fat and tired. Maybe next year, true to her Fuck It List, she’ll light a cigarette, put her feet up and tell the whole gang to kiss her ass.

 It’s so much fun to toss stuff out of your life like rotten leftovers and old clothes. Besides Christmas obligations, lots of other stuff is on the Fuck It List year-round.  Check it out:

ü  Self-centered shallow people

ü  Narcissists

ü  “Aging,” including all the stupid stuff about “60 is the new 40.”  No, it’s not.  It’s 60.

ü  Technology

ü  Old white guys

ü  Uncomfortable clothing of any kind

ü  Seattle drivers

ü  People who claim to be non-judgmental and who judge me and everyone else who doesn't agree with them. 

ü  Opinions

ü  Politicians

ü  “Religious” people, especially fake Christians who seem to forget that Jesus hung out with the poor, the marginalized, and the criminals (literally, hung with them) and seemed to despise the wealthy, the learned, and the clueless.

ü  Lawn signs about how fabulous and inclusive and loving everyone is inside the house, which is always in an exclusive white neighborhood.

ü  CNN and other “news” outlets that profit from fear

ü  Fear

ü  Exercise:  I’m gonna cut way back on that shit.

     You get the idea, right?  I GUARANTEE YOU that if you make this list and stick to it, 2019 will be the best year ever. It doesn’t matter why.  Trust me, it works. You’ll have a bunch of free time to knock out the Bucket List, and you’ll save like $7,000 in therapy.

Would you do me the honor of making a Fuck It List and sending it to me?  At this point in my life, my Bucket List includes watching other people throw off their shackles and live big and real.  Nothing makes me happier than helping in that process, so do me a solid and make your list – check it twice. I’m rooting that you'll be more naughty than nice.