When I had just graduated from college and was struggling to pay for my rent and groceries with the money I saved by swiping spare rolls of toilet paper from the office, my life list looked something like this:

1. Lose 5 pounds.

2. Find boyfriend who isn’t a total jerk but isn’t a cling-on either (not in a band).

3. Drop a few pounds.

4. Get my own place; no more roommates!

5. Lose weight.

6. Find a job that pays more than $20K.

I also believed that if I lost weight, number two would be more likely to happen, and that number six would help bring number four into being. It all seemed so simple.

It wasn’t, mostly because I was 22 and had no idea what would make me happy. It was only through trial and error that I discovered a few things on my list were steps in the right direction (having a home that afforded me privacy and a job that let me pay for it would both build my confidence). Others were red herrings, like losing 5 pounds, which would have been nice but wouldn’t rid my life of anxiety — which is what I sorely desired.

What makes you happy?
Nowadays, life lists seem to be newly popular, as evidenced by a slew of list-manic books and Web sites — “1,000 Places to See Before You Die” (Workman Publishing) and 43Things.com, to name two. Ellen DeGeneres has had fans share their life lists, and “The Bucket List,” a movie in which terminal cancer patients have a few last adventures, was a hit despite terrible reviews.

We live in a to do–oriented culture, which is perhaps why so many of us, alongside our “Pick up dry cleaning” jottings, also have a dream-centered list or two that reflect our longings and even frustrations. Yet whether they are conventional (i.e., go to law school; exercise more) or focused on emotional goals (make peace with a sibling), life lists typically have one thing in common: They’re meant to help us clarify our values so we can get the life we want. That, or they’ll make us miserable trying.

I’ve always suspected that for me, keeping a life list would do the latter. I tend to be hard on myself; if I didn’t get to each item, I worried I’d feel like a failure. Of course, that misses the point. “If you can release yourself from a sense of duty to your list, it can take the pressure off,” says Kate Ebner, founder and CEO of The Nebo Company, a leadership coaching firm in Washington, D.C. “The trick is to see your list as a chance to examine what matters to you, without self-criticism or self-imposed deadlines. Think of it as a way of taking a small stand for what you truly want.”

I’m skeptical. After all, we’ve all known someone who makes a list, follows it slavishly, then wonders why she’s so unhappy, like the serial dater with such specific criteria for her “perfect guy” that she’s certain to be alone until she has a man bioengineered in a lab. “Having a list can blind you to the possibilities in your day-to-day,” says Susan Piver, author of “How Not to Be Afraid of Your Own Life” (St. Martin’s Press). “If someone calls you and you have a nice talk, but he doesn’t have certain traits, you might not meet him,” Piver says. And that person might have brought you untold joy, albeit not in the ways you anticipated.