Sorcha's Scribblings

Late but not too late

I read this when it first went up a couple days ago, and thought it was pretty good. Then I spent part of yesterday evening reading George Lakoff's Don't Think of an Elephant!, and suddenly I could not stop thinking about the Body and Soul post.

It was such a great example of reframing, in a place where I hadn't even realized reframing could be useful. Thanks to this example, I've set myself the goal of trying to reframe at least one situation every day. At first, it's just so I can get familiar with the process, but I hope it will eventually lead me to a place where I can do it in real time, in conversation with other people.

I've added the Lakoff book to the sidebar.

Book Meme

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don’t search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.

At which point his girlfriend makes - in my mind - the heroic suggestion that he stop treating everyone like peons. A. J. Jacobs, The Know-it-all

(I admit that I had to use the second book I grabbed, because the first -- Duncan Watts' Small Worlds-- has no sentences at all on page 123. But the Jacobs book was right underneath the Watts book in the pile next to my chair.)

Via Cool Beans.

Frames of reference

I just had a conversation with one of the fellows in my office about books. He told us that he has a shelf that's about 2 1/2 feet long, and his rule is that he can only own enough books to fill that space. If the space is full and he wants to buy a new book, he has to get rid of enough books to make room for the newcomer.

I can't relate to this At. All.

I live in a house that I have every reason to believe has about 15,000 lbs of books (or more) in it. And I am thoroughly convinced that I personally don't own enough books.

I grew up in a house that had books in it, and where we made a family trip to the library every week. My parents both grew up in homes with books in them, even though my mother's family, in particular, was a poor rural family, raising 7 kids on a farm in northern Wisconsin. I can't even conceive of not wanting to surround oneself with books.

The man with the bookshelf explained that he is pursuing simplicity and trying to do without too many luxuries. I am 46 years old and I sleep on a futon. One reason I do this is because I am well aware that in collecting books with such a vengeance, I am indulging in a relatively materialistic and consumption-centric activity. So I try to live simply in other ways (natural fibers, refraining from owning nearly as many pairs of shoes as I sometimes dream of, furniture that is chosen for its functionality above all else).

After a bit of time, I can understand with my head where this guy is coming from and maybe even what he is trying to achieve. But I can't imagine living like that myself.

One reason it makes no sense to be parsimonious about the size of my book collection is because I read a lot. The last year I made a what-I-read-this-year list, it had 500+ items on it. My reading tastes are wide-ranging and eclectic, including genre fiction, philosophy, weird old books no one else has ever heard of, random non-fiction, and pretty much anything else that catches my fancy (including reference books).

(Lately, of course, a lot of my reading has been related to school. It's a little hard for me to imagine what I will do with all this time next year, when it's OVER.)

The other thing about my reading is that I go through these huge phases of rereading. And a lot of the stuff I want to reread goes out of print and never shows up in a library. So if I let books out of my hands, I won't have them in 13 years, when the irresistible urge to read just those books suddenly grabs me and I actually need to have them in the house.

Plus, I just love the feel of living among books.

I've added two books about books and reading and living with books to my reading list (on the right), in honor of this conversation and the thinking it has me led to engage in.