cvrti5 wrote:In summary, I think lists can be dangerous. That's all I'm trying to say (and I'm an anti-list INTP).
Lists *can* be dangerous. I guess I should have prefaced this whole conversation with that very critical, yet often overlooked, disclaimer.
Welcome to The Lists. The first rule of The Lists is: you do not talk about The Lists. The second rule of The Lists is: you DO NOT talk about The Lists!
Third rule of The Lists: the lists are bare knuckle. No weapons (other than harsh words shared on the Internet, of course).
It starts out innocently enough, with the "gateway" list: the 14ers. Just a few blunts during the summer - Bierstadt, Sherman, Quandary - seems mellow enough, harmless, no problem, right? "It's nothing,"
you tell yourself, "I can quit anytime."
But you're hooked, and before you know it you're onto the hard stuff... the Crestones, the Bells, and not the easy trails either, you're looking for the most technical routes out there 'cause it's the only way you can get a decent high anymore! Pretty soon that peak-dealer introduces you to a whole new
list, the 13ers. Before you know it you're snorting unranked summits cut with winter ascents, shooting up ultras, and mainlining state highpoints just for kicks!
I knew I had hit rock bottom last week: 4 a.m., my son wanders in from an all-American, healthy night out drinking with the fellas. I was packing. "Where are you going, Mom?"
I couldn't look him in the eyes. "It's The Lists, isn't it?"
What could I say? I guess he had had enough... "Mom, you gotta stop! Remember a few years ago, before The Lists? You weighed a hundred and seventy-five pounds and smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. Look at you! You've lost 40 pounds and your cholesterol is down to 129! And you haven't touched a smoke since Rainier. Look at what this is doing to you!"
He was right, of course. I couldn't stop. I wanted to, but I couldn't. "C'mon, Mom, I'll help you through this. Stop packing. I got a couple of PBRs in the fridge... I'll make you a big bowl of Cap'n Crunch - no milk - and we'll watch Sponge Bob."
I don't know why I couldn't say yes, but I just couldn't. I couldn't, because of The Lists. "I'll even go to 7-11 and get you a nice pack of butts - Pall Mall, no filter. Remember that Pooh Bear ashtray you had in my nursery when I was a baby?"
"I threw that out years ago!" "I fished it out of the trash can. I sleep with it under my pillow, Mom. It reminds me of the old days, before... The Lists. Let me help you. Help me, help you."
With a tear in my eye, I left him there, with a big box of cereal in one hand and the remote in the other. I think he was crying too, but I couldn't tell 'cause it was 4 a.m. and really pretty dark out there on the front porch.
In summary, anything can be dangerous, if you're an idiot about it
. People choke to death on ice cream cones and crack their skulls tripping over their own shoelaces. If I'm going to stay safe, I'd be better served avoiding Death by Work Stress, Death by Trans Fats, or Death by Sitting on my Arse on the Couch All Day Watching Mindless Television, and not worry so much about what the lists might be doing to me. â€˜Cause to tell you the truth, so far, so good!