Fifty Things I Did in 2013, and Fifty Things to Do in 2014 (and Beyond)

Readers of this blog may know that between the ages of eight and fourteen, I struggled with clinical depression. With the help of some truly talented doctors and therapists, my depression has been in remission (I'm not sure it will ever be "cured") for nearly a decade, but there are certainly days -- and there have been far more of them over the past six months or so -- when those demons threaten to engulf me again.

When I was thirteen, my therapist recommended a new technique for giving me focus and direction: she instructed my parents to gather the four members of our family each year in early January and have each of us write fifty lifetime goals. Upon each subsequent year, we were to repeat the exercise -- any goal that had been accomplished in the previous year had to be replaced with a new one, and any goal that was left unfulfilled could be carried over. The genius of this ritual, I now recognize, is that it causes one to realize that not accomplishing a lifetime goal in a given year does not make one a failure, and completing such a goal does not make one a success. There is always a full list of things to strive for in the future. (Incidentally, this very same idea was one of the principal themes of my college commencement address.)

For most of the years since, I hated this exercise -- I considered it a colossal waste of time and brainpower and saw no way in which I would benefit from it. In 2004, the first year in which my family wrote goals, I wrote "#1: Think of 49 more goals" and attempted to leave the room after a few seconds. (Never underestimate the pigheadedness, or reluctance to get better, of a depressed thirteen-year-old boy.) In the past several years, however, I've begun to see the value in thinking deeply about the course I hope my life will take, and on New Year's Day it was on my urging that my family sat together and wrote our goals.

I've also started to embark on something of a self-discovery expedition over the past several months, much of which involves considering, as impartially as I can, the successes and failures of my past. To begin 2014, therefore, I offer to each of you, not in any particular order, a list of things I did in the past year, and a list of the things I hope to do in years to come. This is meant not merely to be expository, but to be collaborative, and to encourage each of you to consider carefully the meaning of your past and the untapped potential of your future. If you'd like, feel free to share your lifetime goals in the comments -- perhaps we can derive some good ideas from each other.

--Tyler

In 2013, I:

1. Fell madly, desperately, honest-to-god, can't-eat, can't-sleep, heart-pounding, crying-for-no-reason in love.
2. Got a job I didn't know was my dream job until I got it.
3. Seriously considered declining that job.
4. Questioned, for the first time in my life, whether I want to make Colorado my home.
5. Found myself occasionally being ruled by my emotions -- and not totally hating it.
6. Got a fancy piece of paper in the mail that says I'm allowed to write your patent application. (Hire me! My rates are quite reasonable.)
7. Blossomed into a full-blown booze snob.
8. Blossomed into a half-blown alcoholic.
9. Learned to love the Sidecar, the Old Fashioned, the Black Russian, and (especially) Sauternes.
10. Wished every day that I could turn back the clock to September 2007 and do college and law school all over again.
11. Questioned my politics and (lack of) religion every day.
12. Did my best to honor Trevor Jon Boehm, Northwestern University Class of 2011.
13. Realized how like my father I am.
14. Watched a hell of a lot of baseball, most of it bad.
15. Watched five innings of baseball with my sister in pond hockey weather ("no precipitation" is a heinous goddamned lie -- it snowed the whole time).
16. Had a three-hour lunch of very good sushi with my coworkers, and nearly drowned in sake, on a work day. (Did I mention something about my dream job?)
17. Gained a ton of respect for my parents.
18. Realized that there is at least one thing at which I may very well be one of the best in the world.
19. Realized that there is at least one person who is better than me at almost everything.
20. Smoked a cigar for the first time.
21. Tended bar at one of the most aggravating weddings in human history.
22. Volunteered to tend bar at what will be one of the most excellent weddings in human history.
23. Turned 23.
24. Acknowledged, for the first time in my life, that I need other people.
25. Said a lot of mean-spirited things.
26. Avoided getting in trouble for saying mean-spirited things -- for the most part.
27. Cried myself to sleep for the first time in at least five years.
28. Wrote at least one hilarious email.
29. Wrote at least one heart-wrenching email.
30. Made a perfectly timed Asiana Airlines joke.
31. Discovered, and came to loathe, Buzzfeed.
32. Tried, and failed, to break my Millennial standard-issue addiction to content-free numbered lists.
33. Started listening to jazz regularly.
34. Lost a pet.
35. Gave to charity.
36. Procrastinated way more than I should have.
37. Exercised way less than I should have.
38. Wrote quite a few preachily libertarian Facebook posts.
39. Attended my first Northwestern homecoming as an alumnus.
40. Discovered that a hopeless cynic and a hopeless romantic can occupy the same brain.
41. Wrote critically acclaimed erotic fiction.
42. Wasted waaaay too much time on Netflix.
43. Spent a quiet St. Patrick's Day on a sunny patio in Northern California, which is about the best thing ever.
44. Enjoyed Christmas. Kind of. A little bit.
45. Bought meals I had absolutely no hope of being able to afford, and did not regret them at all.
46. Ate too many meals alone.
47. Brought sorrow to the lives of others.
48. Brought joy to the lives of others.
49. Made dumb lists that nobody besides me cared about.
50. Did not update my blog once, despite repeated requests. Sorry about that.

Over the rest of my life, I intend to:

1. Establish a college.
2. Serve in public office.
3. Spend at least a month on each continent.
4. Become fluent in Arabic, French, German, Hebrew, and Mandarin.
5. Graduate from law school.
6. Pass the bar.
7. Pay off my student debt before age 30.
8. Drive a supercar on the Autobahn.
9. Visit New Zealand.
10. Attend a Northwestern Rose Bowl.
11. Serve on The Colorado Springs School's Board of Trustees
12. Serve on the Northwestern Board of Trustees.
13. Own a home in the mountains.
14. Learn to play the saxophone, trumpet, cello, and piano.
15. Write a novel.
16. Go on Jeopardy! and win a game.
17. Play eighteen holes at 89 strokes or fewer.
18. Learn to drive a manual transmission.
19. Get a pilot's license.
20. Own a plane.
21. Join a community choir or theatre.
22. Join a gym and work out regularly.
23. Climb every fourteener in Colorado.
24. Climb the Seven Summits.
25. Run a marathon.
26. Go to spring training.
27. Visit the Grand Canyon.
28. Get married.
29. Have a child.
30. Do at least 200 hours of pro bono or volunteer work annually.
31. Own a dog.
32. Make friends with at least one alumnus of each Big Ten school.
33. Tend bar as one of the Booze Brothers. (If you're in Castle Rock, Colorado the first weekend in September, stop by -- I, Elwood, and my brother Jake will make you a damn good cocktail.)
34. Learn to sing well enough that people won't run for the hills when I try.
35. Go dancing at least once a month.
36. Go scuba diving.
37. Prosecute and defend a patent from filing to expiration.
38. Visit Cuba.
39. Never fully retire.
40. Invent something.
41. Raft a Class V rapid.
42. Learn to ride a bike well.
43. Compose music.
44. Learn to ski well.
45. Learn to program.
46. Give my child(ren) a debt-free education.
47. Read ten pieces of classic literature every year.
48. Blog more often.
49. Teach.
50. Love -- openly, sincerely, wholeheartedly, without shame.