I can see the end as it begins

All right, happy 750 books! Happy three-quarters of the way through! Surely at this point momentum will carry us through to the end, right? We're practically done already! Admittedly, I may have set myself up for some pain soon since I think I've not done a good job of reading the really long ones, but for now let's celebrate!

And what better way to celebrate than by flip-flopping on an opinion! So, I've always been a bit deprecating about this project. It's easy to make fun of it, and it's not something I ever have recommended to others. But, I'm now going to reverse this. I am officially coming out in favor of doing this project and saying that yes, I think you, dear reader, should to it, too.

Why? you may very well ask. Here are just a few of the reasons:

You will have so much more context. Can you actually get much out of Austen without reading the authors she was, in some ways at least, responding to? Or Woolf and Joyce? Nabokov? I have a much better understanding of the evolution of the novel, and how individual works fit into this context even as they are part of creating it.

You will read things you wouldn't have otherwise. I still feel a good deal of frustration with how white heterosexual Western middle/upper class male the list skews, but it will still broaden your horizons (well also making you want to broaden them even more).

You will experience complex, difficult novels that aren't rewarding till you've made a lot of headway. Without the list forcing me to work through some difficult books, I likely would have abandoned them. This approach to only reading what quickly captivates rewards flashy books (as well as, of course, many legitimately very good books), but punishes books that are less linear or that are trying something more intricate or puzzle like. Without the list project, I wouldn't have read those kinds of novels, and I adore them now.

Related to that: you will appreciate new things about novels. I used to read for plot and character, to be honest. I still read for plot and character, of course, but now I also appreciate sentences, words, themes, authors working through larger ideas and questions beyond the apparent story.

You will have informed opinions. Yes, I loathe Roth and Coeztee and don't need any Franzen or Naipaul in my life, but I know that from firsthand experience. Yes, I realize that the great thing about being human is that we can learn from others' experiences, failures, mistakes, etc. But, when it comes to matters of taste, knowing from your own lived experience has a certain value.

You will finish books. I am not saying, exactly, that there is a moral superiority in finishing books over just abandoning them. I can sympathize with the attitude that life is too short to keep reading something you don't like, even as I disagree with it (life is not that short, it is the longest thing you will do, and if you read at a decent pace you will be fine). That said, as I have stated before, you will miss out if you abandon books that don't grab you quickly, since they can become some of the most enchanting; you will miss out because you will not be building your reading muscles; you will miss out because you won't have that full context for future reading.

Yes, I don't think every book on this list needs to be read, but I do think that the act of reading through a long, challenging list of books has been deeply enriching and improving for me. And yes, you should go do it.

(In case you were wondering, I read The Third Man for book 750; it was ideal for the 750th book in that it was quite enjoyable and quite short; it is by Graham Greene, with whom I have celebrated most of my main milestones, oddly enough).

But there's no question, there's no doubt/ I said I'd stick it out and follow through

As 2015 rolls to a close (draws? stumbles? frolics?), I am thrilled to announce that, should I finish Mary Barton, I will have made it to 100 books. Ah, I amaze myself. Clearly this is seriously an eleventh hour finish, but still, it's a finish (maybe, if I get moving).

Moreover, we are approaching a pretty significant milestone. I'll be at 738 in two days (boy, I better be; why am I writing this and not reading Mary Barton RIGHT NOW?), which means that I'm about a month away from 750, the 3/4ths mark of the project. If this was a run, I'd have about equal distance from the furthest point out and the finish (if this was a run out and back, which it is in my head, and it's my project, so....). This feels so....... anti-climatic.

Maybe this is because I'm not there yet, but I suspect it reflects a general project ambivalence, project ennui if you will. I was re-reading my justification post recently (instead of Mary Barton, what is wrong with me?), and it's really worked. I've read so many books I wouldn't have read otherwise. I've fallen in love with so many of them, I've broadened my reading comfort zone (I was reading The Temple of My Familiar the other day, and it just felt so comfortable, magical realism, odd structure, etc., it all feels like home anymore), I understand the evolution of the novel better/I see novels as this huge and complex conversation, and I've now read most of the "biggies" that came out before ~2005.

And yet.....

Most of the list books are by white, heterosexual, middle to upper class men. Coming to this project because of Toni Morrison and Arundhati Roy is rather ironic. It is less the homogeneity of these authors, and more just their privilege and consequential narrow mindedness that starts to deeply grate. This comes up with race in absolutely horrific ways, though most often in a deep absence of non-white experiences. Gender, though, is what speaks most directly to me, and sometimes speaks to me in the most traumatic of ways (dear white men, why is it so hard to view others as full, real people whom you are so very capable of hurting?). Actually, just read this piece, she does a better job of explaining what I mean (yes, I realize I should have been reading Mary Barton instead).

I was so naive when I started this project. I had never read anything by Philip Roth, and I just didn't know what I was in for. I don't regret the project or the books I've read, but it's been more of an awakening than I had expected, and it does leave me feeling a bit sad.

That said, it's still a significant milestone, and I hope to have more of a 250 attitude than a 500 attitude.

I don't know how anybody survives in this life without someone like you

Circus engagement photos. Photo credit to Sarah Hluchan; choreography credit to William Reiff.

And true/I tend to follow in his stride/Instead of side by side I take his cue

November is a funny time to be thinking about street harassment. Normally by this time of the year, I'm shrouded in so many layers and rushing so quickly from building to building in an attempt to note freeze to death, that I get basically zero attention on the street. This November, has been unseasonally warm. While warm weather in November is generally lovely, albeit alarming given global warming, it does have unfortunate side effects.

I tend to judge cities based on the amount of street harassment I experience there (Geneva, you are lovely; San Francisco, you are not). It shapes and colors who I am in the world in ways that I hate. The price you pay for being a woman in public grates on you.

Relatively recently I started flying again, after being out with a hip injury. Usually Drew and I fly together, which cuts harassment to zero (which I appreciate even as it infuriates me). One class a few weeks ago, though, Drew didn't fly, so I was going home on my own. I fly in booty shorts and fishnets, which I suppose comes across as sexier than I mean. I fly in these cloths because I like them, though, not for the male gaze or whatever. I like elaborate patterns on tights, I like how they are grippy on board and make me feel safer, I like how they make me feel like I'm dancing in the air, I like how they make me feel like a real flyer.

During this particular class, I brought back misses (turning to the net), my takeoffs felt good, I caught legs off of the THIRD RISE without fear. Flying is scary for me, flying is intense personally growth work. One of my current projects is literally getting more confident in my abilities, since one of my main coaches decided that's one of my main challenges as a flyer. I dig so deep as a flyer, and it's so empowering and overwhelming. After being out with painful, boring, time-consuming, expensive PT, flying feels like even more of a triumph especially when it's a great class. So, I was still flying high after this class. It was warm out, I put on my knee-high fake leather boots and a wrap, and walked to the metro.

And I got so much crap. One guy asked for my number, got angry when I wouldn't give it, followed me to the metro station, and only left me alone after I entered the system. Yes, I get it, booty shorts, fishnets, boots, but why can't I dress how I want? Why do men assume a right to comment on my body, to police my presence in a public space because I'm wearing something that has nothing to do with them?

Street harassment robs women of so much. Our ability to feel safe in public, to go where we need to go when we need to without fear. Of money (the cabs I take to avoid being out after dark alone). Of basic humanness and politeness. I don't respond sometimes when people are just saying hello or being friendly, because if I respond to the wrong person who isn't just being friendly, it's so much worse. I try not to feel my moods in public, since when I'm happy or smiling to myself, it can be so much worse. I second guess what I wear, even though it often doesn't matter.

I don't have any conclusion to this. I just feel like venting and being sad about it.

And if we make it till then/ Can I ask you again/ For another ten?

Days 1 and 2 of Kondo-ing

I am procrastinating getting started. Not because I don't want to do it, but because I am worried: what if nothing sparks joy? People always tell me that I never seem sufficiently happy about good news. Maybe I don't actually have emotions, in which case this is not going to go well.

********

I am sitting in a pile of clothes when Drew arrives home unexpectedly early. I can hear Marie Kondo screaming "no!" (one of her main rules is that you should do this process in isolation so that others don't sway you), but I ask Drew if it's all right if I keep my pair of jeans even though they don't spark joy. Drew agrees one pair of jeans is the sort of thing you may need at some point (citing the fact that I brought them to Punta Cana, though I didn't actually wear them there; dubious, but he's agreeing with me, so let's go with it). Marie Kondo is really screaming now, I'm sure, but I happily fold them vertically.

                                                                            ********

I stumble out of bed and groggily join Drew in the living room. He's much more awake than I am. I stare off into space for a few minutes before demanding "do those snack bags bring you joy?" referring to the box of disposable snack bags that is for some reason sitting in the center of our mantle. Drew sensibly suggests we just put them away where they go in the kitchen rather than worrying about their joy bringing abilities.

********

Does this Jungian analysis of Nancy Drew book bring me joy? Do you really have to ask? Of course it does.

********

Alice comes in screaming with her cat toy. Her glare clearly says "lady, this has the potential to bring me a ton of joy if you would just cooperate." 

I want to die/ Knowing I/ Had a long, full life in your arms

I've decided to Kondo the f**** out of my apartment. I've been wanting to do something like this for awhile, but I recently actually read her book (yes, yes, yes, I KNOW. It's not on the list; I managed to get behind again on my progress and the year is almost over, etc.; I've been on international travel for work and when this happens I treat myself to non-fiction. I'm reading Love & Math, too).

Anyway, I'm so very excited to try. I'm not a minimalist, so I don't think I'll do it to the extent she'd want, but that's fine. I'm pretty good at accepting myself as I am in most ways.

I'm going to chronicle this overtime, so I don't lose the details of the experience. I'm currently still traveling, so I can't start yet. Instead, I've been reading articles about people's experiences Kondo-ing their own place. Generally the reviews are positive (though, I'm not sure that's reflective of how this would actually play out for people on average; there's a lot of selection bias going on here to start combined with people wanting to believe they did a good job of it, etc.). 

That said, I've been shocked by how much people deviate from her directions, and so casually. She's quite clear on the importance of starting with clothes, people; why are you starting with your books? Why are you refusing to pull everything out on the floor?

I am sure that once I start I will regret being so judge-y, since I'm sure that I will be even worse. 

I stand on a precipice/ I struggle to keep my balance/ I open myself/ I open myself/ One stitch at a time

First, read this. It is required pre-reading before this piece; or at least pre-skimming.

Setting aside the obvious (I’m not even sure I’m an athlete, and I’m definitely not an elite one), this piece spoke to me so much. When I first read it, I felt like someone was describing what I went through with my trampoline backdrops. Backdrops are just what they sound like, jump up, lean back, land on your back and protect your neck; keep bouncing up and down on your back in continuous backdrops, bounce back to your feet, or use it to bounce into another trick.

They are basic, they are easy; even for me, they were easy. I took to backdrops easily. I quickly used them for other skills. Then, one day, with no warning, they terrified me. I would bounce up and down forever, unable to lean back, break the angle, and land. I could still do perfect bullet drops off the trapeze, but on the trampoline I’d stall and panic. My coach, Thomas, spent hours with me on them, essentially going through all the steps outline in that piece. Now, I do backdrops again without a spot, but fear still lurks.

Moreover, I still block. I block in static trapeze on doing cradles in the ropes. Essentially, from standing on the trapeze, you grasp the ropes the trapeze hangs from, one in each hand. You pull yourself up into a ball, invent so your butt is above your head, extend your legs out straight and tag the ropes for extra support, and then finish by arching your back. It’s a very stable position.

Again, this is a basic move. I do it in hands (rather than hanging by the ropes, Drew does essentially a knee hang, and then I hang from his hands and tag his arms), I do it hanging on the bar without any fear ever. I’m cleared to do it without a spot. I’m cleared to do harder, more complex, more dynamic moves without a spot. Yes, it is a high move. Anymore I’m probably about 12’ above the ground when I complete the move. However, even when my coach William would lower the bar to just barely above the ground it scared me.

I’m getting through it, though. It used to be that we’d do a mount where Drew boosts me up to the bar, and then I’d stand on the bar with my hands gripping the ropes, and just freeze, telling myself I’d go when the flying instructor (classes run concurrently) said “hep” to the student they’re working with, but then not. William would eventually say “you’ve got this, Jenn,” and then I’d dutifully start the move (because you’ll do things for your coaches you can’t do for yourself). Now, I can start without that verbal push. I’m working less on doing the move, and more on not being afraid to do the move; it’s not scary once I start, I know it’s not scary. As it gets less scary, a new move takes its place as the source of aerial fear. I’ll always be facing demons and climbing these fear mountains as long as I do aerial.

When I talk about my fears and how that’s part of aerial for me, people always ask if it’s working, if I’m getting less afraid, if it’s worth it, if I’m able to apply this work on fears to other aspects of my life (as though it isn’t worth it if it only applies to trapeze). On the one hand, my life has improved immeasurably because of trapeze. Of course it’s worth it.

But on the other hand, even if it hadn’t, even if all of this was confined to the world of trapeze, it would still be worth it. Working on these fears, working through blocking, has shown me a fundamental truth about myself: I am someone who faces these demons and climbs these mountains; it’s part of who I am.

I grip and she grips,/ And faster, we're sliding./ Sliding and spilling, and what can I do?

So, book 700. This isn't exactly a milestone, exactly. That won't really happen till 750 in about six months. Though, this may be the first time I'm celebrating a milestone, albeit a small one, at the right point.

It's hard to believe I'm this close to being 3/4ths of the way through this project. I should feel more celebratory than I do. I mostly just feel strange (that may not be the fault of the list project, though).

In some ways, the most dominant thing about this project is how very long it's been going on at this point. It's seen me through so many changes, so many different eras of my life. It's been the one constant through upheaval and change. Anymore I often wish that I was just done with this, but sometimes the thought of being done almost makes me sad.

I've been thinking a lot lately about change and moving on, how you know when to do it, how you do it at all, and I'm sure that's coloring my thinking significantly. Normally I'd just be excited to still be making progress.

Just the typical facts of a typical life in a town on the Eastern Shore/ I thought about what I wanted/ It wasn't like that at all/ Made Carolann a cute baby sweater/ Thinking "I can do better than that"

Addendum to my last post:

Drew read it and told me that I should not count those two books toward my reading goal for this year, since I didn't read them this year. Technicalities, people. I pointed him to the line about how I get to make the rules for this project.

However, I actually did read two more books in June, so I guess I got to 50 whichever way you want to slice it. Now to get organized again and get to that 700 goal.

We build a treehouse,/ I keep it from shaking--/ Little more glue ev'ry time that it breaks/ Perfectly balanced,/ And then I start making/Conscious, deliberate mistakes.

Unbelievably enough (no, seriously, I really don't believe it), I am caught up! I am ahead! I've read more than 50 list books this year so far and June is NOT YET OVER! Let's all pause for a moment and let that sink in.

I don't really know how I turned this around; I got more organized which made things easier (reading is almost easier than dealing with getting the books, so streamlining things helps a lot). I also read some really, really short books. Still, given how far behind I was, it's kind of amazing.

I suppose one key point that I should acknowledge is that I'm counting two books that I had read a long time ago (like, 1984, which I read ages ago) and had failed to log. So one could argue that I didn't actually catch up; additionally, many, many of my milestones have been noted incorrectly (e.g. the book I thought was the 500th was actually the 501st, so go figure).

Fortunately, since I make the rules for this little project, I get to not really care at all. I am incredibly untroubled by the incorrectness of those milestone celebrations and I am more than happy to count those two books for this year.

At a more macro scale, I'm at 689 books for the project. I really, really want to cross that 700 threshold. I'm most excited for crossing 750 and being in that final 25% of the project, but I feel like 700 will also feel like a tipping point.