The backlog is the heaving behemoth lurking below the floorboards, the quiet stalker sent to remind me that despite my best efforts I am once again buried beneath an avalanche of my creation. This pile of books, games, art projects, comics, and films has grown over the years into a rather large body of proof, as Browning says, that my “reach exceeds my grasp.” And at the rate I am going, I may never get the opportunity to grasp much of it. But that doesn’t mean I’ve been totally ignoring the stacks.
I think about the backlog often. When I journal, when I’m depressed, when I’m wanting for something to do, the backlog is there: taunting, reminding, shaming, begging. There have been times I resolved to tackle the mess, but always to mixed results. It has seen several purges, desperate attempts at reduction that takes neither what has been played/read nor what might be worth playing/reading into consideration, yet the bulk still survives. I have carried the pile for years, moving around three states, going to college (and then a couple of times), and toiling for a good decade stint at a career. Finally, when my wife and I got married, I gladly ferried the backlog from storage to our basement where it has sat relatively undisturbed for some time.
But I think it’s time to give it another go. I’m a fan of tackling impossible New Year’s tasks (just ask my crumbling ego), but I never go into them delusional about my chances of success—it’s important to try to be as level headed as possible about defining impossible goals. So, with failure clearly in mind, here are my thoughts:
1. Even If I Spent Every Hour of Next Year Working On The Backlog, I’d Never Finish It
This is one of those sad but ever growing realizations in my life—there is simply not enough time. Academically, I think I figured this point out in my early twenties, but hubris tends to stretch things past their shelf life. I think I simply believed I could do the impossible. For example, I continue to buy audiobooks I will probably never get to enjoy. Even if I worked around the clock, the backlog of audiobooks, my smallest stack, would take me a little over 66 days to complete. That’s almost a sixth of my time and only a fraction of a percent of the challenge. So going into this with the mindset that it can be completed would be pure folly on my part.
2. That Doesn’t Mean It’s Not A Worthy Goal
Fine. It’s a Sisyphean task, but there’s some comfort to be had. For one there’s the raw information. Clearly there will be dreck in the pile, worth no more than a moment of nostalgia, but large swaths should be educational, entertaining, and at times wildly creative. That knowledge alone should justify the endeavor. But wait, there’s more. Perhaps my having recently reread Camus’s “Myth of Sisyphus” is coloring my thoughts, or perhaps it is just my penchant for existentialism, but there is a certain joyful acceptance that comes with acknowledging such an absurd task. And that is what it is—absurd. Accepting futility does not shorten the days we have to live, but it does give us a clear picture of the boulder we must haul. Meaning is made of what we choose, and choosing to spend time sifting through the pile is meaning enough in itself.
3. So How Do You Define Success?
By continually pushing that rock, by taking something from the pile, finishing it, measuring its value, and then moving on to the next piece. Success is tricky and often lacks real definition, but sustained effort is more concrete. I’m not suggesting that I give my self a participation trophy. That would be a cheap out, an easy win. What I’m arguing for is development. I will live the next 365 days, unless something unfortunate happens, with time to spend. That time is only wasted if I deem it so, and I choose to deem it useless unless I digest the material. Success, then, is the acquisition of opinion. It’s hard to deem something valuable if you have never experienced it, and tackling the backlog will give me experience in spades. That is a goal accomplished. If I write a few reviews, create some art, and read and grow in my writing, well, then all the better for me.
Most of me burns with excitement to begin tackling my backlog, but part of me still cowers in the wake of such a monumental task. Perhaps I will have the motivation to continue. Perhaps I will burn out after a few days. Either way, when the rock comes to rest at the bottom of the hill, like Sisyphus, I hope to be happy to begin the trek back up to the top of the backlog.
A. D. Bowen 