So it's gonna be forever/ Or it's gonna go down in flames/ You can tell me when it's over/ If the high was worth the pain

Some random thoughts that I've had this month on the march to the end (I'm at book 99 for the year, 637 for the project, if you are wondering):

Joseph Conrad is vanquished!

What kind of idiot chooses Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow when trying to read nine books in December?

I really do not understand why Anne Shirley ignored geometry for Ben-Hur. And I say this as someone who's not a fan of geometry (number theory any day).

Does it really matter if I don't read 100 books this year? What am I saying, of course it does; my life will more or less be a complete failure if I don't.

Why are so many books about horribly irritating people making horrible life choices? Money, I'm looking at you.

I was content/ A princess asleep and enchanted/ If I had dreams/ Then I let you dream them for me

All right, folks, let's take stock of November! At first I was afraid that I'd have to write about how this was a failure of a month. Largely because of my South Korea venture, I had a pretty hectic month. And to be honest, my regular life doesn't really lend itself to the project to begin with. Yes, I the trip involved some long flights (the two longest flights of my life, actually), but a few things conspired against those flights being productive:

• I tried to sleep as much as I could, and I'm a pretty good sleeper.
• My return flight had wifi. Amazing.
• I binged Serial.
• In addition to the New Yorker, I generally indulged in non-fiction (I even bought the Lena Dunham book).

So, you can see why I didn't think I'd be in good shape. To my relief, though, I actually did all right, largely thanks to a ninth-hour disciplined march through Sentimental Education and some semi-cheats with short books, I have to read nine books in December to meet the 100 for the year. That's not so bad; it's not great, it's not a cushion, but considering that I was expecting a deficit, I'm very relieved.

Even if everything else turns to dirt/ You'll be the one thing in this world that won't hurt

And now, a dialogue:

Me: Reading 100 books a year is hard; I don't think you appreciate how hard.
Josh: Oh, I appreciate it. I just don't understand why you want to do it.
Me: I just want to be done.
Josh: Maybe you should take a break. God wants you to take a sabbatical.
Me: Questioning look.
Josh: In the Sinaitic Covenant God made the Jews take a sabbatical every seven years where they had to stop tending their crops and let their fields fallow.
Me: Well, I've not been doing this for seven years; I should take a break when I'm 29.
Josh: That doesn't matter. It's not like you're Jewish or anything.
Me: But then why should I take a break?
Josh: Because God wants you to.

And you know that it's just a sonata away/ And you play/ And you play/ And Everything else goes away

I read many great books as a child: The Betsy series, The Austin Family series, The Chronicles of Prydain, The Enchanted Forest series, Little Women, Secret Garden, Jane Eyre, Diamond in the Window, Song of the Lioness Quartet, Princess and the Goblins, the Narnia books, Lord of the Rings, virtually everything by E. Nesbit, Anne of Green Gables, Little House series, Sherlock Holmes, Baby Island, the Oz books, Wise Child and Juniper, Catherine Called Birdie, Tattooed Potato, etc., etc., etc. We were an intensely book family.

I also read a number of not so good books. Most of these were mass-produced series and extremely formulaic. I can recognize now (and to some extent I did then, too) how bad these really are, but I still remember them with a bit of nostalgia.

Saddle Club: truly epic. This is the story of three privileged friends who live in Virginia and ride horses. They eventually come to own their own horses in most cases, they travel to exotic horse-related places, ride competitively, outsmart kidnappers, save horses from a forest fire (maybe? my memory is not great), and hand out a lot of soda. Lisa, or "Mary Sue" gets movie stars, handsome Italian men,"bad boy" ranch hands, and almost anything with a pulse to crush on her (she is like 11 or 12). Sarah and I still play a game where we try to name as many of these in order as we can; there were like 100 of them.

Nancy Drew: I didn't even really get into the original books, but I did read a lot of the later era ones, like one where Nancy and co. go to Arizona or New Mexico or something to solve a crime or where they have to join the Renaissance Festival as performers to ferret out something or other (these were really memorable). Later in my life I read this amazing book that analyzes Nancy Drew from a Jungian perspective; it is beyond description and I will gladly loan it to anyone.

Boxcar Children: So, I stand by the first few in this series when they were actually written by Gertrude Chandler Warner; they weren't so formulaic. But later they started to be extremely formulaic, and also much shorter. Basically Henry, Jess, Violet, and Benny solve some mystery, usually while traveling. You can see why I loved these books, since traveling and mysteries were/are two of my favorite things. Still, you can never get back the hours you spent reading these.

Happy Hollisters: I have such a fondness for these books. My father had them all growing up, and we read from his collection of these books, each one crimson with a black silhouette of Hollister children (let's see if I can remember them: Pete, Pam, Holly, Ricky, and Sue; man the brain space). These were also mystery books. My absolute favorite was the cuckoo clock one where they go to Germany; we lived in Germany for a bit when I was young, and we read this book many times while in Germany. I'm sure reading these outloud got old for my parents, though; they are a very, very, very happy family.

I could keep going (Girlhood Journeys, Magic Attic, Dear America, Sweet Valley Twins, Cam Jansen, etc.), but I think tat I'll stop.

Why is it you still believe?/ Do you dream or do you grieve?/ You've got to let him go

So, as I recently mentioned, Drew is reading one of the list books out loud to me, specifically Perfume. This got me to thinking, does it count if you don't actually read the book but hear the book? One hand, why not? Other hand, well, you're not actually reading it.

It's a conundrum. My immediate reaction is that no, of course it should count. But the more I think about it the more I realize that I can't exactly back that reaction up, though, with any sort of logical argument. However, I tend to just descend further into the existential. After all, what does it mean, really, to read a book? What is the essence of reading?

While I try to figure that out, here are some other book that were read to me that are on the list:

• To Kill a Mockingbird 
• The Lord of the Rings
• The Hobbit
• Treasure Island
• The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
• Through the Looking Glass
• Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
• The 13 Clocks

One light shines in the drive/ One single sign/ That our house is alive/ Our house, our own/So why do I/ Live there alone?

I think of life in terms of opportunity costs. Moreover, I get really irritated by people who don't (sure, this may not be a waste of time per se, but compared to everything else we could be doing at this moment, it is a waste of time). So, let's calculate some list opportunity costs.

There are 1001 books on the list. That's about 348,629 pages or 104,588,700words (~300 words a page); that should take about 582 hours to read (rate calculated using this site's estimations). So far I have read 624 books on the list (is that a lot? it feels like it should be more? Lord, I'll never be done with this project). So that means ~363 hours of reading. Right? Someone check my math. Also, does that gut check for you? I have no idea.

Let's assume it's correct. Here are some other things I could have been doing during that time:

• 181.5 flying trapeze classes
• 363 static trapeze classes
• 9 Rosetta Stone language levels
• 484 spin classes
• 24 scarves knitted
• 871 Focus T25 workouts
• 2.5 drives around the world (if there was a road that went around the earth's diameter and I drove continuously at 55mph)
• 653,400 pushups 
• 77.5 marathons (if I'm the median woman)
• An indeterminate non-zero number of Suzuki method violin books completed (I could not find a helpful estimate of time anywhere, but man are parents worried that their 3 and 4 year olds aren't progressing quickly enough).

So, is it worth it? Hard to say, though it is very unlikely that I would have done any of these alternative activities in the time I spent reading, so probably. 

It slits my skin, and trips my brain/ And feel the burn, when I don't feel the pain

In the continuing saga of Mint.com: I remain the worlds' most passive Mint user; I never log in (I still haven't remember my password), and I never categorize my expenses (rent shows up as "check"). I just glance at the emails they send me and get anxious.

Recently Mint helpfully informed me that I spent an unusual amount on "travel." Color me surprised, Mint. Mint also tells me every time I pay an ATM fee and cheerily keeps a running total for my fees for the year.

Mint, my darling, I get reimbursed for ATM fees by PNC. Actually, that's one of the two things that I love about my bank.

The other thing that I love is that if you go to a PNC ATM you can take out bills in any amount. I like to get $37; that way I get a $20, a $10, a $5 and two $1s. I realize that I could take out $36 and get a similar experience, but I prefer odd numbers.

I loved you once and though/ I love you still I know/ It's time for me to go

So, this happend:

It only hurts when I breathe/ It only hurts when I try/ It only hurts when I think/ It only hurts when I cry

The other day Drew and I were talking about how flying trapeze inspires intense emotions among people and speculating as to why that is. Take me for instance: I sometimes may get frustrated by a static trapeze class, but it never leaves me devastated the way that flying trapeze can, and it never brings the same amazing highs. Why oh why is this?

We never found a really satisfactory answer. Some is just that it's already such a charged experience for me because of the fear factor; some is that you just get few turns and one mistake can waste a whole turn; some is just that trapeze is magical and unique, I guess. I do think that some is also that trapeze invites comparison, since there are levels and privileges and objective facts (you caught or you didn't; you're ready to remount or you're stuck on roll-ups for another week, etc.).

That said, there are great things about having a hobby at which you are terrible, a fact that I remind myself pretty regularly. Here are some of them:

• If you stick it out, you know for sure that you truly love it and that you aren't just doing it to achieve something; because you're really not achieving, as it were.
• There is something luxurious about doing something at which you are bad; it's the ultimate self-indulgence.
• This one may sound a bit arrogant, so I apologize, but if you are like me and a bit type A, good at the things that the world asks you to be good at (standardized tests and academics and getting people in authority to like you and interviewing and "leadership"), then being bad at stuff and struggling with things helps with your empathy. When much comes easily, it's good to struggle.
• It forces you to genuinely focus on process rather than product, which is an important skill to apply to many areas of life.
• You never have to agonize about wanting to quit your day job for your hobby, because you know it would never make sense.
• You can make other people feel better about their skills and abilities comparatively speaking (yes, I'm still working on my shooting star, but hah, at least my take-off isn't as bad as hers).

Basically, even though I feel hyper aware of product and destination sometimes with flying, the more I can focus on process and journey the happier I am and perhaps not surprisingly the better my flying is. (Side note: this is an interesting contrast to my immediately prior hobby, hip hop; with hip hop I just got really good without trying or noticing at first till the instructor told me that I was really good; in fact, my hip hop journey is perhaps completely encapsulated in that description, in being so caught up in my own world of being me to not notice the effect I was having on my surroundings, which is something that happens to me not infrequently). 

Can you keep the cup from tipping?/ Can you keep the grip from slipping in despair?/ For just another day

Speaking of the rules, I appreciate this article's points. Finish the books that you start! It's a cornerstone of this project for good reason. I know some people say that life is too short but:

• Life isn't really all that short.
• Even if it were, it cuts both ways; leaving a trail of unfinished books in your wake doesn't mean you somehow only got to have great moments in your reading life because:
• I can think of so many list books that took awhile to hit their stride, some that I didn't love till the very, very end, and if I had given up I would have missed so much. That more than makes up for the few that I didn't want to finish.
• It's a slippery slope. Once you start not finishing books, I think that it becomes harder and harder to finish books.
• I'm sort of an expert at reading lots of books at this point, so you should just trust me (ethos and such).

What happens if the cut, the burn, the break was never in my brain/ Or in my blood, but in my soul?

Now that we are well into November, let's assess October. So, it wasn't a great month. I had hoped to read 10 list books and get a real jump on the rest of the year. Instead, I read eight and a bit. I probably read nine books worth, but at the end of the month I had three books going so I didn't actually finish them.

So, two observations here:

1) I broke one of my main rules, which is one book at a time. I want to hyperlink to previous blog posts where I write about this, but I can't find them and it's late and I'm tired. I justify it because one book was my at-home read, one was my metro read, and one was a book Drew is reading out loud to me.

2) I read basically the bare minimum to stay on track for the year, which is not ideal. As I've said before, December can be a rough month so ideally you have some cushion going in. That said, I'm trying not to be too hard on myself about all of this. My life is crazy busy, I do a lot, and reading eight books is still a lot for a month.

In general I'm pretty bad at being nice to myself, but I'm trying to work on that. Another non-list project blog post will be coming up soon on that topic.

With you always beside me/ To catch me when I fall/ I'd never get to know the feel/ Of solid ground at all

So, this happened:

Verdict: I liked silks more than I expected to. As Josh said, though, silks are probably good for a control freak.

I’ve asked about you and they told me things/ But my mind didn’t change/ And I still feel the same

In honor of NaNoWriMo, a list of some fiction that I've written over the years.

Handlers - Were I to actually complete something, it might be Handlers. It's about this young woman who is a handler for a spy; in this case, though, handlers have some sort of psychic connection to the spy. It also has what is probably my best love triangle. The problem is I couldn't decide the tone and world building. I have an ending written that basically involves the lead losing her mind.

Muse - I actually finished this one, as in there is an ending. It's a retelling of Bluebeard; this artist recruits "muses" to live with him and inspire his art. And he's super great so people go for it? I don't know. Anyway, it involves torture porn near the end. I was 17, what can I say?

Ashton/Bohmer - This is a story about two feuding high-fairy families in a world where high fairies never age past being teenagers. I feel like there is some sort of YA potential here. It's told from two characters' perspectives alternating back and forth. It has a pretty unpleasant lead female character of whom I'm rather fond.

Castle - This one was inspired by I Capture the Castle and is about this quirky family who owns a crazy run-down castle. A film crew from the States (or some place? It's not set in the real world but it is likely set in the UK) wants to film this epic LoTR style movie there. There is a love story. There is no real plot. Tone also got weird with this one. I had the character have this fight with the guy she's with that was basically me processing a fight I'd had with a guy. It's weird to re-read.

Robin and Darrin - This one is weird, and my ideas about it changed (character names even changed), so it's also inconsistent. Darrin is this prince who got angry with his family and gave it all up to wander the world. He recruits this young female apprentice, Robin, who has some trauma from something. They take on amusing odd jobs as they travel, till they accidentally wander back to his kingdom and get invited back by the family. Court intrigue ensues and they end up fleeing when the queen tries to do something terrible to Robin because Robin has this magical secret. Then I stopped writing it.

Leighton - Second to Handlers I'd take this one on. It's a murder mystery with a sort of Gosford Park flavor to it since it has a whole upstairs/downstairs thing going on. The lead is a 20 something woman who is a "memory specialist." I wasn't quite clear on what that meant, but it had something to do with recovering memories from military officials when they retired to ensure nothing wasn't collected? But the military guy gets murdered.

Grace's book - This one is also weird. It's about this group of five sisters living in this place like Venice in something sort of 17th century like but with 19th century elements too. They are part of a minority religious group that is oppressed. Their father recently died but they are lying about this so that Grace can continue his work as a Kreser (cryptographer) that no one would allow her to do as a woman. It's quite long because it also involves her working with a group from the dominant religious group as a Kreser for their team participating in this crazy competition/puzzle game as part of a summer festival, there are complicated love stories for all of the sisters, and it has no overarching plot.

For all those years I prayed that you'd go away for good/ Half the time afraid that you really would

Mission creep: this has nothing to do with reading.

I always think about street harassment in the spring and fall. This is because street harassment picks up in the spring, I guess because we're not all wearing shape disguising coats and running to escape the cold. Then I get used to it as the summer wears on. Come fall, though, I occasionally wear knee-high boots with booty shorts and fishnets.

The other day after getting some fairly graphic street harassment, I was reflecting on this. Nothing justifies street harassment, and I get crap no matter how I dress. That said, it does get noticeably worse in the fall with this outfit choice.

I didn't used to dress this way for trapeze. When I first started I wore things like this:

Not sexy!

Now, I wear things like this:

And this:

Which I realize don't look all that sexy, but with boots on the street, they come off more sexy than I intend.

So, why dress unintentionally sexy for trapeze? It's sort of ironic, actually, given what got me started with trapeze in the first place. I'm not totally sure how to explain it; I guess some is just about coming to be more comfortable with my body than I ever have been before. Coming to see my body as about what it can do and not how it looks has strangely enough led me to a place where I'm not self-conscious about wearing things like this, and I can truly just wear clothes that are pretty and make me happy while flying.

I don't like that it comes with street harassment, but living in DC does, and it is what it is. The benefit of discovering that I love flying in fishnets just like I discovered that I can regularly do something that terrifies me for the sake of the highs it gives me seems on balance worth it.

And I've Never Had to Face a Day Without Her At My Side/ Now I'm Strolling Right Beside Her As the Blackhole Opens Wide

I think that this is a pretty important milestone to celebrate. I have finally (finally, finally, finally, finally, finally) finished all the Philip Roth novels on the list! Why is this such a big deal? Because I literally hate everything by him that I have ever read. The degree varies but the sentiment remains. One of the sad consequences of the list project is definitely Roth (another is definitely Coetzee, though I do at least like one of his novels; but the ones of his I hate I may hate more than the Roth ones, so kind of a toss-up here).

Now, I realize that my related musing here is not quite fair given Roth's background, but I think that this still largely applies to him: I'm getting tired of reading books by white, heterosexual, economically privileged, cis-gendered men. It's actually incredibly ironic that part of why I came to the list project is because of the multicultural literature course that I took in college, given how dominated this project is by male voices of the Western canon as it were.

It's not that I don't love white, heterosexual men (well, I love a handful of specific white, heterosexual men), but seriously, I'm ready to read something by a woman of color already. Ideally an American Indian/Alaskan Native woman, actually, since I'm not sure that there are any books like that on the list. Depressing.

And I know it's long gone/ And that magic's not here no more/ And I might be okay/ But I'm not fine at all

So, this happened:

 

Don't look down/ It's a long long way to fall

I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with the DC public library system. I've primarily (solely?) written during relationship upswings, so you would be forgiven for thinking that it's just a love/love relationship. And don't get me wrong, I definitely appreciate  public libraries in theory, but in practice they can leave quite a bit to be desired. Here are my top gripes:

First, let's talk about their website, because it's kind of the worst. It's incredibly hard to search, which is kind of unfortunate since that's its main purpose. Over the years I've gotten a bit better at using it (pro-tip: exact search is not your friend), but I'm still amazed when books don't appear at all when I search one way but do when I search another. This would be less irritating if it weren't for point two, because I'd at least know it was wroth trying all the variations to find a book. Additionally, the site has a tendency to freeze up after  doing just a few searches.

Second, let's talk about the selection. For a large city, the selection is woefully inadequate. Admittedly I don't always want super popular books, but only a small handful are that obscure to justify their absence in the library system. I still have more than 350 to go, and I'm already resorting to creative means to get some of these. Why doesn't DC have an interlibrary loan system? I ask myself this nearly every day.

Third, let's talk about the size of the libraries. There are a ton of neighborhood libraries and they are all itty-bitty and strangely full of DVDs (haven't y'all heard of streaming? Does anyone still borrow DVDs from the library anymore?). As a result, I have to rely on putting books on hold for all my borrowing needs; I never can walk into the library and just find books that I want. Now, I could go to the main library branch, but trust me, it's not better. It just has even more DVDs.

Now, it's not all bad. I know I'm not their real target audience, and they have done some pretty innovative things like hiring a social worker to work with homeless patrons. Still, I worry about relying on the library as the books get harder and harder to find.

I am the one who knows you/ I am the one you fear/ I am the one who's always been here

Time to take stock as we head into Q4. But first, how is this possible? What happened to 2014? How am I this old? What am I doing with my life?

Actually, as I was cheerfully getting in the elevator today with my lunch of falafel and hummus (today was yummy vegan day if you squint a bit and ignore the skim milk in my tea this morning), one of my elevator companions asked that very question of another elevator companion. "What am I doing with my life?" I hadn't intended for this post to be existential. After all, the answer is pretty obvious: working at my human rights NGO and working on my cutaway and taking expensive spin classes and getting ready to move in with Drew and surviving yoga. And, of course, trying to read a lot.

Anyway, we ended Q3 all right I guess. But I literally finished book 75 on the 29th of a 30 day month, so it's not like I'm ahead at all. I guess that's not a huge deal, except to the extent that Q4 is often a rough month for reading. It also means that I've not tried to tackle any of the long ones for awhile and I probably won't now this year if I want to stay numerically on track (even if that means I am setting myself up for pain in the long run).

Sadly, there are many non-fiction books that I want to read right now. Maybe I should just give up on sleeping.

The price of love is loss/ But still we pay/ We love anyway

As a post-triathlon project, Drew has decided to embark on a six-week at-home yoga course from Do Yoga With Me. Taking this literally, I decided to do yoga with him. Sadly, I’m pretty sure that my version of the program should be called “Don’t Do Yoga With Me” (sorry, Drew!). We’re a week and a bit in, and I’ve already learned so much! Specifically I’ve learned that I sort of hate yoga.

Now I’m trying to figure out why exactly that is the case. It can’t be that I dislike slow, meditative exercise. I’ve always loved Pilates. Obviously yoga and Pilates are extremely different, but you’d think that there would be some cross-over appeal. Pilates, after all, is about exacting movement done with extreme control. Yoga is quite different, as I said before, but it’s also about control and precision in some ways.

Also, it can’t be that I dislike holding static poses. I love static trapeze, after all! Static trapeze is all about the static poses.

I love static so much it doesn’t feel like a workout, it feels like a treat. Yoga does not feel like a treat.

So, why do I hate yoga? It’s hard to say. Maybe I’ll get more insight over the next few weeks. Maybe I’ll go on a crazed yoga induced rampage. We’ll see!

Don't lose what you've won/ You've struggled for years but you've only begun/ Stay with me, try again

So, as a follow-up to my finance related post, I decided to get more intentional about budgeting and the like. And as a millennial, what other way would I do this than with an app?

I opened a Mint.com account. Sadly, that's about as far as I got. I tried to sync it with my checking and savings accounts, but it didn't work and I got bored and wandered off. But as a result, things have gotten rather... odd.

Mint.com helpfully alerts me each week that I am spending INSANE sums of money ($10K+) over the past seven day period (I assure you that I am not). I tend to run over my booze budget, which Mint.com decided should be set to $109 per week. I don't actually buy booze, so I'm confused by this.

One time Mint.com alerted me that there had been a "large" deposit made in my account. So I checked, but it was just my paycheck. Hah, Mint.com. I work at an NGO and live in a state (okay, I don't live in a state; I know that) with a very high income-tax rate. That was not large, Mint.com. Get it together.

I suppose I could try to fix things and set a budget and such, but that would entail remembering my password, so...

There's a world, there's a world I know/ A place we can go where the pain will go away

I don't think that I'm reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas correctly. I think that I sort of hate it? It reminds me of some of my more irritating experiences dealing with people who, for various reasons, are operating with compromised faculties. My main recurring thought has been "come on guys, get it together already."

You have a right to go/ But you should also know/ That I won't be alone for long

So fun! I want to know this for more books. I want to know this for all the books.

Sing a song of forgetting/ A song of the way things were not/ Sing of what's lost to you/ Of times that you never knew

So, I'm conflicted about this. One hand, I desperately want to be crafty. And to have a really well-put-together apartment. So desperately. Plus I do have a router that I'd love to conceal. Other hand, I have issues with defacing books. Serious issues.

Sigh.

At any rate, this reminded me of this series of craft books that I worked through as a child. You could do crafts to simulate things made, used, worn, lived in, played with, or eaten by people at a specific historical time and a specific place (for the most part). They were called More Than Moccasins, Colonial Kids, Westward Ho, and a medieval one that I can't remember or find on Amazon. It's like bringing together my love of books and of crafts!

For whatever reason, though, I didn't tend to read the directions. I just looked at the pictures and tried to emulate. Mixed results. 

D: I don't wanna hurt you/ A: So why are you?

For some odd reason, reading this article made me anxious. I can't really explain why, exactly. I don't have any credit card debt (or any debt, actually; I paid off my one student loan ages ago). I have about 10 months of living expenses in savings and two retirement accounts (baby ones, but hey, they exist!). So, on the surface I'm not in a similar situation and I don't have a similar "spend it when you have it" mindset.

Nonetheless, "Most of my money is spent on snacks and treats and delicious groceries for meals for my friends. I buy presents and experiences, stuff that makes life fun and exciting and glamorous and livable, $4 iced teas and in-season farmer’s market produce." Yes. That's me. I mean, I have an insanely expensive hobby and I sometimes Uber home from it and then treat myself to a bonus spin class.

How is this relevant to the list project? Well, I read the article rather than going to the library to pick up the books that I have on hold. Yeah, that's all I've got.

Trying to fight the things we feel,/ But some hurts never heal/ Some ghost are never gone,/ But we go on,/ We still go

An article about data and reading? Of course I'd be interested. Though, I think I'm most interested in the chart. I still take issue with measuring reading based on Amazon purchases, but such is life.

I also like articles like this one, since they make me feel as though somehow my project is old-fashioned. Plus, I identified with the side point about reading more slowly when we enjoy a text. See, there are benefits to reading books that you dislike (if you are trying to reach a yearly reading quota, which WHY ARE YOU???).

And so it is/ Just like you said it should be/ We'll both forget the breeze/ Most of the time

So, the other day I was wandering around DC (like I do), thinking about the list project (like I actually don't do too frequently). This led me to think about being 32, since that's about when I will likely end this thing. Or if I don't complete it by then, it means that my life will likely have changed dramatically in the interim. Probably because I either went to grad school or I had babies. Either of those two possibilities seem intense and like they'd upset my fragile sleep equilibrium.

Maybe part of why finishing the project seems less possible than it did when I started the project, (despite the momentum that I should have at 606 books in) is that imagining finishing the project has started to mean imagining my life at 32. I find imagining that to be very hard. I also apparently find it hard to spell "imagining" since I keep putting "imaging."

I've always been bad at five year plans. That challenge is a bit ironic, since I managed to secure quite a lot of money during my undergraduate career by convincing people that I in fact did have five year and even 15 year plans. Hah. I really have no idea.

I started leafing through Getting Thing Done the other day. It's the kind of book that someone like me should be so good at and should love. Next actions! Looking at life at various altitudes! Living intentionally! I'm actually not that organized. I have a pretty good memory, a calendar system, and a tendency to precrastinate. I get things done quickly and rarely forget things, and that helps me seem like less of a scatter-brain than I am.

Projecting into the future is hard for me, and I've been trying to figure out why. It doesn't seem quite consistent for me, either. I'm serious about saving for retirement, for example. But maybe that's because, like the list project in the early days, it doesn't feel real. I just work towards it today and don't worry about what it will really mean when I need to access that money.

I do have some goals. Specifically a cutaway half and a flexus-flexus. Beyond that, though, who knows? Hmm. I wonder if I should try to get better at this.

This stream-of-consciousness post is brought to you by my headache. Stupid headache. 

Ooh-oo child/ Things are gonna get easier/ Ooh-oo child/ Things'll get brighter

Flying trapeze class tonight ended what had been a streak of amazing classes. Things had been so good for so long that I had kind of forgotten what these lows can feel like. Looking back over emails that I sent to my mom after my recent hot streak does remind me of how great things had been: turnarounds that kept form, swings that built height, calm (for me) takeoffs, cutaways with misses and timers.

Then, tonight. Backslidding on my turnaround is terrible for my headcase issues. Rational me (hah!) acknowledges that this could be/likely was a fluke class, for lots of reasons (houlder; tired; heat). Things might be totally better next class.

But man, sometimes it sucks to love something you are so terrible at. And sometimes, it just hurts.

I've written before of the magic of my flying world, where everything is hard and every victory is truly earned with hours of work and sweat and tears. But tonight, as I watched someone else learn his swing (second class on it) with a forceout more powerful already than mine may ever be and height I still don't get, sometimes all I want is to ever belong in that other world. For OOL to ever seem like a possibility. For just once to get something more quickly than most people.

Sigh. I ask too much of trapeze. the rational (hah!) part of me knows that. I asked it to save me when I was going through a really difficult time. I asked it to teach me to trust again. I ask it to be a place where I learn to conquer fear. I ask it to always make me happy. I ask it to be an escape from reality. I ask it to pick me up when I've had a rough day/week in my other worlds. I ask it to make me feel strong and beautiful and courageous. I ask it to be magical. It's not fair; I know it's not fair.

I miss the highs and lows/ All the climbing, all the falling/ All the while the wild wind blows/ Stinging you with snow/ And soaking you with rain/ I miss the mountains/ I miss the pain

Sometimes when I'm reading a particularly challenging or incomprehensible text, I will read up on it either prior to starting it (when I know in advance) or soon after commencing with it when it rapidly becomes apparent that I need to. Wikipedia is a super helpful tool; if I have a good sense of the overarching plot, structure, themes, and style of a work, it's much easier to read hard texts decently quickly.

Other times, I go into books completely blind. Like I did with my current read, Blonde. I was reading along, main character's name is Norma Jean, she's blonde, etc. And then way too far in, I suddenly realized what it's about and I felt very stupid. Ah, well.

Give me pain if that's what's real/ It's the price we pay to feel

Hopefully this post will be somewhat comprehensible. The New Yorker (bane of this project) recently ran a piece called The Pleasure of Reading to Impress Yourself. I actually think this piece's reach exceeds its grasp, but nonetheless I enjoyed it. It resonated with me, since really, maybe that's the point of the list project at the end of the day?

I admit that I'm often pretty self-deprecating when I talk about this endeavor. Some of that is sincere in that I don't think this project is unusually impressive or better than other reading projects or priorities. At the same time, I do think that I have benefited enormously as a reader by doing this project.

I knew that the project would expose me to books that I would not have otherwise read, and that's certainly been a main benefit. I've fallen in love with authors' works that I certainly would have been very unlikely to come across some other way. But there's more than that.

By trying to read so much and so broadly and works so ambitious and at times challenging, I've expanded my horizons as a reader. I better appreciate references and in-jokes. I can see how certain writers influenced others; I can trace the evolution of the novel through my own firsthand reading experiences. I've come to understand certain authors by looking to the dominant questions/methods/movements of other art forms (e.g. Joyce and Woolf and the visual arts at the time, etc.). I'm a faster reader, and ironically a more patient, trusting reader.

Right now I'm reading Celestial Harmonies, which is a great example of why I love the list project. At first I didn't enjoy it at all, but as I kept going and it began to unfold in this amazingly intricate, exquisite way, I've come to love it. Even if I had tried it without the project, I probably wouldn't have kept going long enough to reach this point.

So, yes, I'm self-deprecating/mocking about this project, but at the end of the day, undertakings like this do come with rewards singular to ambitious projects.

I've been very hopeful so far/ Now for the first time I think we're going wrong

The secret, my friends, to embarking on a difficult, decade-long challenge to read ~348,629 pages is to have support from family and friends.

For example, the other night, I decided to start reading out loud to Sarah and Josh from Celestial Harmonies. I can't explain why. Anyway, as I read they provided helpful commentary basically constantly. Until the point at about five pages in where I read "What makes a family a family?" and Josh said "'Ohana' means family. Family means nobody gets left behind," and I said "Screw it" and went to take a shower.

H: I'll be here for you/ N: You say that right here/ But then give it a year/ Or 10 years or a life

So, how far behind am I for the year? Actually, I don't think that I am at all. I'm at 64, and I need to be at 75 by the end of September. We're about at the midpoint of the quarter, so we are in fact a tiny bit ahead.

I guess that's not all that surprising, really. My pace is consistent on a macro level, but I tend to go in spurts on a more micro level. I'm not sure why that would be the case.

Catch me I'm falling/ Please hear me calling/ Catch me before it's too late

So, I'm actually enjoying my current read! It's so odd; I started to think that maybe I was in a rut that I'd never get out of, but no. Now, it may mostly be the contrast to it and some other recent reads, but I'll take it. This book has a plot! It makes sense! You must understand that I've been reading Sebald and this other book that has been described as incomprehensible.

Now, I didn't actually find it to be totally incomprehensible or anything. In fact, in a way I enjoyed my second Sebald and I enjoyed City Sister Silver, too. But it's sort of like eating a grilled portobello mushroom. It's kind of good, but more interesting than enjoyable, and after awhile very hard for me to eat. Or read. Not a great metaphor.

I also, of course, have a soft spot for Czech literature. If I were independently wealthy with a ton of time on my hand, yes, first I'd max out circus/aerial classes, but after that I'd want to take a Czech literature course. Well, I'd also want to do some dance, music, painting, and language lessons, but at some point, Czech literature. I love Prague. Here is a picture from my work trip to Prague last summer:

And for fun, a picture of ducks at Bletchley Park from my get out of the U.S. trip this year.

Okay, this post got weird.

You'll hear and you'll recall/ the sadness, the doubt, all the loss, the grief/ will belong to some play from the past

Another August, another milestone. Since we have a decimal numeral system and I try to read 100 books a year, I hit the milestones around the same time every year. Somehow, 600 just doesn't feel like that exciting of a milestone, though. Maybe it's because 500 was such a big one; maybe it's because 100 actually isn't really that great of a milestone indicator and the next milestone is actually 750.

Or maybe it's just that I've hit another bout of list project ennui. If I had to describe it in one word at the moment, I'd choose interminable. I will be 31 and a half when this ends if I keep at my current pace. It just feels like it will go on forever.

Anyway, yay! 600 books! Sigh.

What was the 600th book, you ask? Rings of Saturn by Sebald. It is about this guy on a walking tour of Suffolk. I kid you not. I was disappointed, I must admit. Though, I could imagine a scenario where I would enjoy this book. Specifically, if were on vacation for several weeks in isolation, in a house with lots of full-length windows (almost like a green house) out in a tropical forest, I think I'd enjoy reading it.

Am I behind for the year? Yeah, I think that I am.

Who could proudly stand beside me?/ Who will love me as I am?

It's been a loooooooooooooooong time since I've written a random post in honor of lists (not really and I know that these are some of my more ridiculous posts, but whatever). To remedy this, here is a post of all the random exercise fads/trends I've attempted in my life.

• Treadmill running: I watched OLTL and eventually became very, very bitter.
• Ballet and American clogging: At the same studio; they go together well.
• Irish social dance: We moved and this seemed like a good option; I got really good at it.
• Reformer Pilates: The running thing led to a busted back, so I got very into Pilates. I got super spoiled taking 5+ classes a week at my college gym, eventually being invited to join the advanced class. I had no idea how good I had it.
• Half-marathon training: I decided my back was well! I decided that running 17 miles was good half-marathon prep! I decided not to run the half-marathon after all.
• Zumba: I've always had hips, so I figured that I should use them.
• Bhangra: I heard this was a killer dance workout, and I loved the instructor.
• Hip hop: I am so white, but I'm good at memorizing choreography, so it sort of balanced out.
• Pole dancing: This always looks so amazing, but my fear of inversions was just too much
• Barre: There was a studio super nearby with a thing that's not groupon but like groupon but some proceeds go to charity? I don't remember what it's called. And I wanted to get back into dance (barre is NOT dance).
• Flying trapeze: Because I'm still breathing
• Trampoline: Because I have to for flying
• Static trapeze: Because it's pretty
• Lyra: Because I like to spin
• Spanish web: See above
• Silks: Because I'm a masochist
• Acrobatic partner balancing: Because Drew
• Spin: Also because Drew, but I actually fell unexpectedly in love with spin
• Insanity, T25, P90X, etc.: Josh and I got seriously into these and now do a huge mix from a lot of Beach Body options. I guess I started with hip hop abs after I stopped taking hip hop, and then did Insanity and had a sort of whiplash experience from the differences in Shaun T
• SolidCore: See Silks.

Until you name me/ You can’t tame me!/ This is one old game/ That I can play so well…

I've been meaning to write this post for awhile now. Sigh. If intentions were horses I'd be violating my apartment lease; or else I guess boarding them somewhere? That would probably be the better choice.

Anyway, I finished 50 books earlier this month; I always aim to hit the 50 mark by the end of June, so it's exciting to be on track. So exciting, that I took basically a month off to read through a math book at a snail's pace. Yup.

I wanted to read the book as a reward for making so much progress, and then I started wondering if it's weird that I reward myself for my hobby. I mean, it's supposed to be fun inherently, right? Still, mini rewards do help with the motivation. Now I just need to get going again to stay on track for the year.

Normally this would be the time that she would let him talk her out of leaving

It's been a few exciting weeks at the trapeze school; I got to film several people's first swings without safety lines and cheer on others as their first return bars were dropped and in some cases caught. Obviously the highlight for me was Drew taking his swing OOL; I'm so glad that I got to be there and celebrate with him.

When I first started trapeze I hated it. HATED. It scared me so much; climbing that ladder scared me so much. I was in a Saturday flying workshop, and starting on Thursday evenings I would feel so anxious. I never slept well on Fridays. Then on Saturdays I'd spend two hours so intensely facing my fear. What people may not realize is that this went on for 6+ months. It wasn't until I was a few weeks into my third IFW that it started to subside (maybe because I went to Puerto Rico and had to face it for five days in a row? Maybe because I started to get better?).

So, why in the world did I keep going? I don't completely know. I do know that I saw that everyone else at the rig seemed to love flying, and I desperately wanted to be part of that world. I wanted to love it so much. The hardest part was hating that I couldn't.

And then eventually, I started loving flying trapeze.

Lately, several people  have asked when I'm going to take my swing OOL. The answer I always give is, oh, never; it's not why I fly. That's not a world where I'd belong.

The thing is, as special as that world of OOL is, and as happy as I am for everyone who steps into it, there's something special about my flying world, too. About this world where nothing comes easily and everything comes with fear at first and then eventually with love.

About that moment when turnaround isn't scary anymore and I can be aware of my body position (after firmly believing that I'd just be a flyer who never turned around and that I could live with that). About discovering that I love taking off from the second rise (which makes you higher and should make it scarier)

About Mandy having to have a talk with me about the fact that I was ready for an unassisted takeoff and had been for weeks (a talk she said that very, very few people get). About the moment when you realize that you aren't smiling before taking off because Mandy and Meghan said that you had to (it forces your body to let go of some of the nerves and you to collect yourself a bit before taking off), but instead you are smiling in anticipation of the sheer joy of flying.

And, of course, what's really, really special is a place like the rig and the community of flyers there who can welcome and celebrate people in these various worlds.

Some things are meant to be/ The tide turning endlessly/ The way it takes hold of me/ No matter what I do

This. That's all.

Give me pain if that's what's real/ It's the price we pay to feel

I just can't even. Gah.

"In a perfect world, he would sleep only with perfect women, women of perfect femininity." Oh, would he now? Maybe in a perfect world he'd be less of an entitled little prick. Certainly in a perfect world I wouldn't have to keep reading Coetzee.

Doesn't help that I'm still not in the mood for this. At all.

Do you know /Do you know/ What it's like to die alive?

Okay, I truly don't mean to constantly hate on Coetzee. I really did try with Youth. I was all primed to give it a chance, I swear. And then the stuff with Jacqueline happened. First, let's get something out of the way. It is ALWAYS wrong to read the private writings (emails, texts, diaries) of someone else, and EVERYTHING is private until you are told otherwise. It can only end in tears. So yes, she is awful. Fine. But why does Coetzee have to make women so uniquely awful?

Don't get me wrong;  I'm not saying real women are easier to get along with. I'm not even saying that I am easier. I am quite sure that I am an extremely difficult person to deal with, live with, love. But who isn't? I have my hang-ups, fears, obnoxious quirks, moments where I'm so far less than my best self (which, how great is that best self to begin with anyway?). But who doesn't? That happens because we're all human, not because women are uniquely difficult/infantile/selfish/awful as a gender.

Yes, you could argue that Coetzee's protagonist is male and he doesn't have to view women as fully human. And I would say, I don't care. Yes, fine, men as the privileged group get to view women as less than human, they get to be oblivious to women's experiences in a way that women don't get to with men. Same is true for me as a white person. That does not make it okay.

At a time when we're facing a very real, raw, terrifying, and tragic reminder of why street harassment (and even just getting hit on) is not flattering but incredibly scary, my patience for casual misogyny is at an all time low.

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

Maybe I should get a job like this! I'd be done in no time.

Maybe we can't be okay/ But maybe we're tough and we'll try anyway

I should read this book, I think. I kind of really want to, anyway. But, that would certainly put me off track for the quarter.

Tonight I'm getting over you

Oh. My. God. Coetzee.

Dusklands. Oh yes. Yes indeed. I don't want to write about this one. It did annoy me, though. Referencing the Truman Library? Sure, Coetzee, sure. You don't get to look down on the midwest like that. I realize that this is like an older sibling who picks on their younger sibling but will fight to the death anyone else who bugs them, but seriously.

Personally, I have a great fondness for the Truman Library. Life changing events and all that. I dug out some pictures from that. The first one made me so nostalgic. Seriously, this woman so completely changed my life; she was the best thing about my time in undergrad; I was so luck to have been there while she was. I'm so glad that she was able to join for the appointing ceremony thing. Second picture is just amusing to me.

Even if it's a lie/Say it will be all right/And I will believe

Rather than have a more comprehensive existential crisis (because general Jenny existential crises are so 2012..... well, okay, and 2013), I thought I'd have one on the list project.*

What is the point of this project? Is there any point? Does it matter? Does it mean anything?

Why am I doing it? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

In other news, I'm trying to finish off the remaining Coetzee's that I have on the list. That undertaking is not unrelated to the rest of this post.

* Yes, I do realize I am abusing the term.

How could I ever forget?/ The moment my life was set/ That day that I lost you/ It's clear as the day we met

Quote of the day (reminded of after reading another Elizabeth Bowen that left me feeling strangely unsettled)

“Who is ever adequate? We all create situations each other can't live up to, then break our hearts at them because they don't.”
 - Elizabeth Bowen

No, it isn't you/ The girl that I will love/ No, it isn't you/ The girl that will love me

My companions between now and the end of June:

Finding a pencil

In honor of my amazing current roommate (and baby brother) who is getting me all kinds of hard-to-get books on the list today (yay for being a student?), a post on all my roommates over the years:

When I first moved to DC I lived with four people in a huge house in Silver Spring. It was a pretty great set-up, and we had a lot of fun together. It was surprisingly drama free for so many people living together. No passive-aggressive notes about anything, for example, and no arguments about thermostat settings. We survived Snowpocolypse together, too. One roommate spent the whole week baking; we had homemade bread of various kinds, quiche, lasagna, donuts, etc. We probably all gained about 15lbs. This also led me to playing Risk the right way for the first and last time in my life and it was very stressful.

Then I lived in a house with strangers fairly briefly. Nothing too notable, except the guy was kind of a jerk; he would leave the AC on all day and he just used the toilet paper and never contributed. Eventually I just took to not leaving it in the bathroom. I don't know what he did then, but he still never contributed.

After that I moved to an apartment that was a one bedroom and a converted living room. It was okay for a brief stint. The roommate was not notable overall; we didn't ever spend time together. She had a cat, and I cannot for the life of me remember the cat's name. This makes me so crazy. I knew it at one point, I called him by his name, etc. Whenever I try to remember his name, though, I remember the name of the cat at the hostel Sarah and I stayed at in Rome for six days in 2007; why can I remember that but not this more recent cat who I knew for a longer period of time?

Next I lived alone in a studio. It was great and I never once locked myself out, despite having several mini panic attacks about that (which my father assisted with by sending me articles about how corrupt locksmiths are; thanks, Dad!).

When I moved to my current place I briefly lived with a temporary roommate found on Craigslist. I nicknamed her (not to her face; I'm not sure, though, if that makes it better or worse) "the puppy" because she was rather puppy-like (she was 22, just moved to the big city, etc.). She was a great roommate from a Parks & Rec definition.

And now I live with Josh!

Son of steel and daughter of air

I have recently read a number (that is a bit of an exaggeration, but more than one) of articles/posts/musings with the thesis "be the main character in your life/don't get stuck as a supporting character." The ones I have read have been targeted specifically at women, so it's a mix of don't be stuck as the love interest/don't be stuck as the best friend role.

Now, yes, I am the girl who really wants an "I'm not your manic pixie dream girl" t-shirt (so useful; potentially so adorable if designed right), but I do take issue with this on a few fronts.

First, these articles are not at all literary analysis of why it is better to be the main character. Instead, they are short-hand for things like, don't just be the cheerleader/support role, go after what you want, know when to prioritize your needs, be ambitious and driven and follow your dreams, don't get stuck on the sidelines, live intentionally, etc. I am here to tell you that plenty of main characters (often, yes, the more irritating ones) are extremely passive in their lives, so...

Second, to the extent that they are referring to sidekick characters, they are referring to the poorly written ones, and it's not really possible to be that kind of character because they are two dimensional. That is the problem with them/why you shouldn't want to be them, and also why you really can't, if you are in fact a real person.

Third, there are some sidekick characters I would much rather be. They tend to have less drama/messes. They are the characters, at least in some cases who are the most put together. I was reading an essay recently by an author who was contrasting her life with all its mess (the life of the main character) to a friend (the sidekick) who had egg spoons. Don't you want to be the one with the egg spoons?

To conclude this post and demonstrate how far I am from a manic pixie dream girl, here I am flying:

I am the one who loved you/ I am the one who stayed/ I am the one and you walked away

It's been awhile since I've done a list entry, so here is a list of the ways at which I am failing at life right now:

Not dressing weather appropriately. Don't get me wrong, I (obsessively) check the weather, but somehow that doesn't influence my behavior adequately. I dress warmly on hot days and I say "it's spring, no leggings!' on cold days.

Accumulating a disturbing number of spoons at my desk at work. Why don't I just bring them back to the dishwasher in the kitchen?

Giving into my hatred of expense reports and not getting ~$35 back because I just can't stand to do a lost receipt report (neither San Diego cab had receipts, so this one is not completely my fault; it's not like I lost the receipts, that would be a real fail).

Seeing an Ann Taintor tray that said "I dreamed that my whole house was clean" and identifying so strongly.  

Having enough Chris Brown songs on my iPod that it can be on shuffle and play three of them in a row. When that happened today I just knew that I am failing.

Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away

I'm still awkward! I know you've all been wondering if I somehow got less awkward and that's why I've not had any to share for so long, but oh no, I've not lost that quality at all. In this particular case, though, it was technically an awkward airport encounter.

I'm sitting around, minding my own business when an elderly gentleman approaches me and asks me to watch his bag while he goes to the restroom. Now, yes, the slightly robotic voice did come on at exactly that moment and remind us not to leave luggage unattended and never to accept luggage from strangers, but was I seriously going to say no? So as he wandered off I contemplated how bad I'd feel if I exploded in the next few minutes.

When he returned he sat down next to me. I knew then that things were going to get awkward. He asked me about my book and said how delightful it was to see a young lady reading (side note: I seem to be super adorable to old men; I'm not sure why, though I think maybe they think I'm sweeter than I am?). We chatted about Magus for a bit, and then he asked for help with charging his phone.

That's when things took a turn. You see, his phone is apparently bugged. By men in suits. Who also follow him everywhere. They are not the FBI, he is quite sure, because they have been too obvious and amateur. I started to worry about the whole bag watching thing, but it was in the past.

I'm pretty sure that he has some sort of dementia, because he kept forgetting whether California was home or DC for me and asked me to tell him my story several times (why oh why can't I have an easier job to explain that doesn't lead to people wanting to talk about organized crime in Russia?). Though, after the flight when he saw me he remembered my name. Which yes, that did sort of feel a bit creepy.

Go me!

This all reminds me of the one time I made friends with a stranger on a plane and it went well. He also used my book (something on theater of the oppressed) as an opening to chat and we actually seriously hit it off. He gave me his phone number, which is less creepy than asking for mine, right? I never called him, though. I kick myself in retrospect, since that was probably my best chance to make out with a stranger on an airplane. I'm pretty sure in hindsight that he'd have gone for it, and it would a) make for a better story, and b) be a good bucket-list activity, right?

EDIT: I was 21 at the time; I don't know why, but I feel like that is important context.

I don't give a damn about life after death/ But I've got to get some proof that there's a life after birth.

Does 575 count as a milestone? Yeah, I didn't think so.

I'm sure something's missing, I wish it would show

I am re-reading Carney's House Party. Because, of course I am. Actually, to be accurate I should say that I just about finished re-reading it, which means that I'm at the proposal scene. At first I was going to name the people involved, but I guess that would be spoiler-y.

Anyway, not the point. I got to the part where the guy is talking with the girl's father to ask permission. This happens in Betsy's Wedding as well. Because the books are written in tight-third around a female character, we never get to see the permission scene, though. This makes me wonder what goes on exactly. In Carney's House Party it's long enough that the girl and the mother are able to make dinner during it, and in Betsy's Wedding the women all get impatient waiting with how long it takes. Even in These Happy Golden Years Almanzo has the chat with Pa and we don't get to hear it.

It makes me think of the scene in Ramona Quimby, Age 8 (or is it Ramona Forever? What is happening to my brain anymore?) where Ramona, Willa Jean and Bruce (who doesn't wee wee in the sandbox) play the wedding scene with Miss Mousie, Mr. Frog and Uncle Rat. The later ones where Uncle Rat says "See if I care" or "Yes but you'll be sorry."

It also makes me think of what my father would say if I had lived a century earlier. Probably something along the lines "that's interesting."

Sing a song of forgetting again

I realize that I have talked (written) about the Betsy books here before. I regularly re-read the series, though, so it makes sense that it keeps cropping up here. And yes, I do realize that I shouldn't re-read books till I finish this project. Such is life.

What I love about the Betsy books is that they fit that very, very rare category of books with which you get something new out of each time you read. The early Betsy books where just pure enjoyment when I was a child; my favorite part was the friendships. Now when I re-read them, I see the role of the adults and love the Rays as a couple and as seriously amazing parents. When I first started college, I adored Carney's House Party; before or after a trip to Europe I always re-read Betsy and the Great World. Betsy and the Great World spoke to me for very different reasons when I first moved to DC.

Most recently I re-read Betsy and Joe, Betsy and the Great World, and Betsy's Wedding. In reverse chronological order, of course, because I make sense like that. To be fair, I actually skimmed Betsy and the Great World. This time, I was focused on the relationship between Betsy and Joe.

Which, I just simply love. They are such a sweet, supportive couple. There are some antiquated aspects of their division of labor as newlyweds, but by and large they are a great relationship role models. They are partners in the life they are building together and in their creative work together (Betsy and Joe, like Maude and Delos, collaborated on many works).

This time, I was most struck by Betsy's role in the relationship. Betsy's crush on Joe is established when they are freshman; it takes Joe a lot longer to come around (though one could argue that he does like her long before he makes a move). Betsy is open about her (seemingly-one-sided) interest, and she often is the more proactive one. Eventually Joe (of course) falls hard for Betsy, but their dynamic is really amazingly progressive. If you look at modern romantic comedies, it's irritating to see how far we've slipped back in so many ways. Of course, part of why I simply adore Betsy is because she wants. She has dreams, ambitions, aspirations; she's not afraid to admit to striving, to sometimes failing, to wanting and maybe not getting and then trying again.

So, yes, definitely a Betsy and Joe shipper. I tend to be a canon shipper generally, but with Betsy, I was totally shocked to learn that there are Tony and Betsy shippers. Seriously? Don't get me wrong, I love Tony, but how can anyone not want Betsy and Joe together?

Daddy never knew that you were on your way/ He had other ladies and other tunes to play

I've been reading Kokoro; I'm going to go out on a limb and say that most of you (hah) have never read of it and many haven't heard of it. It's worth checking out, I'd say (three stars?). It's sort of an idea work. I could write about a few different things, but for obvious reasons this exchange caught my eye and I want to talk about it:

"Why is it, Sensei, that you are not as interested in books as you once were?"
"There is no particular reason ... Well, perhaps it is because I have decided that no matter how many books I may read, I shall never be a very much better man than I am now."

Now, if you have undertaken a massive reading project, this would likely stand out as a thought-provoking passage. There's a number of ways to read this (as arrogant, as defeatist - which seems to be most accurate in the context of the novel -, as sort of zen/enlightenment, etc.) statement. I'm more interested in it, though, in the context of reflecting on my own little project here.

The statement implies that a main goal of reading is self-improvement in various ways. I suppose that could primarily be increased knowledge, but often the argument for reading fiction is that it makes you a better person, more empathetic or something. I don't know if I've improved at all as a person because of undertaking the list project (though I don't really think that I have; at least, not in ways dramatic or interesting), but I also do not really do it for self improvement.

That is not to say that I don't want to improve as a person, of course. I suppose that everyone does; or at least, I rather think that we all should. I tend to divide my improvement goals into two buckets.

The first is on the superficial side, and it's mostly around just living life in a way that seems better. For example, better meal planning, bringing salads for lunch, saving money and improving my retirement planning, cleaning more regularly and getting the apartment to be Apartment Therapy worthy, etc. From an actions = character perspective, that's all pretty important, I suppose.

The second is the more personal side; that is, the side about addressing all the ways in which I specifically am hopelessly flawed. That I suppose is a life journey, though.

Win or lose, it’s all the same. It’s how you take it that counts, and knowing when to let go, when to go on to the next thing

Yay! I have finally completed the 18th century! Now, after the pre-1700s (the only other block I've finished), the 18th century is, of course, the shortest century. So, you could argue, very fairly, that this is a hollow victory. That's fair. Still, it's a milestone and we're going to be happy about it.

Now, here we come to a bit of a blog-post fail on my part. Prior to writing this post, I had an idea for the post based on an expectation that did not come to bear. You see, the final book that I had to read was Confessions by Rousseau. And for some reason, that I can't justify at this point, I was convinced that I would not be able to find it for free online in English. Clearly, as the link shows, that was completely wrong. Again, no idea why I thought that would be the case.

My initial plan to deal with that was to buy an eBook copy on iTunes. I happen to have a $1.05 credit on iTunes, and I figured this would be a good way to make use of that. My plan was to then tell the story about why I have this credit for this post. But then I got it for free, and I still have the credit.

Nonetheless, I will tell that story: I have that credit because of an ill-thought-out baby-sitting gig. I recently got an email from Apple alerting me to an opportunity to get a refund for unathorized in-app purchases.

I'm telling this story really poorly. Let's try again: So, about a year ago I was entertaining a hilarious, precocious then five year old with my iPhone. She elected to play a game called Fruit Ninja, which I was able to download for free. Yay! Ostensibly she was going to teach me how to play it, but she was much more interested in playing herself. I learned nothing. Later I discovered that she bought something with an in-app purchase. I figured, ah well, that's the cost of sharing your phone with a child, and at least she didn't break it, am I right? Then, out of the blue, I got this email and jumped on the chance to reclaim my 99 cents. I'm not sure why that became a $1.05, but what do I know?

Now, after writing this all out, I realize this is not actually a good story. And it's sort of pointless. Oh, well.

Also: five-year-old's high score? 157. My high score? 74. This will come as no surprise to anyone who has ever watched me try to play video games. Except for Sky Roads. I was amazing at that.

Toes!

I recently read a piece about the myth of motivation that argued that to excel at something or achieve something challenging, you have to fall in love with the process of the practice. It's significantly more applicable to my trapeze hobby, of course, but I would argue that the applicable piece to the list project is just falling in love with reading books and not getting hung up on having 440 or so more to go.

Maybe the secret is interim goals. I think the practice/process for me becomes hardest when I feel lost or without direction. That's true for everything. So, I recently set an interim goal of finishing out the 18th Century. Seemed achievable (thanks, Project Gutenberg!), and since I long ago finished the 17th/pre-17th Century section, it seemed like a good idea to finally wrap up the 18th. I'm only one book away! So, has it been helpful and rewarding?

Um, no. Not really. It's been sort of traumatizing due to the Marquis de Sade, and very maddening due to almost everyone else. Le sigh.

Missed sibling day, but:

I don't know, the things I don't know/I'm sure something's missing, I wish it would show

Feel sorry for me. You really should. I'm reading Evelina right now, and it really feels like I've read it before. Which makes sense, since it's remarkably similar to many books I've already read. According to the source of all wisdom and knowledge, this book's claim to fame is that it is social satire of the upper class in Britain in the 18th century, and it did this before/is a precursor to Austen and Edgeworth! Well, fine. But, as Boy George once said, "It's not who did it first; it's who did it best." And I say this as someone who isn't even an Austen fan.

You know I love you... I love you as much as I can

It’s almost April. And, for those of us in this world who work on government grants, that means the end of the second quarter of the fiscal year. Since that’s been my life for approaching five years now (how am I this old how is it possible I’m ancient), it’s certainly my perspective on this time of year.

Of course, being through Q2 of the fiscal year means we’re through with Q1 of the calendar year (concept of fiscal year is so ridiculous). This is a good time of year to also take stock of our progress on the list for the year. I have a general sense of how I need to track each year and what that means on a weekly basis (100 per year, close to two per week), but I don’t really pay all that much attention on a daily or monthly basis.

I wasn’t really paying any attention this year, until recently when I ran the numbers and realized that I was seriously behind. On a weekly basis it’s fine to fluctuate a fair amount, but if you’re behind at the end of Q1, you are probably fairly screwed for the year.  So this discovery led to some catch up with some short or easy reads (thanks, Confessions of Saint Anthony and Heather Blazing!), and we’ve managed to get back on track. Go us!

So, how did we get so dramatically behind? I know that busy-ness is a myth or whatever. Therefore, I won’t say that I’ve been too busy, per se. It’s mostly an energy and focus problem. I always have some time that I could devote to reading each day, but some days I’m just really not in the mood.

Also, while I have time outside of the things that absolutely must happen in my life (work and the admin things that keep me alive and not gross, like grocery shopping and showering), the other things that go into it (trapeze, fitness, social life, etc.) do take a lot of my time. So the project ebbs and flows, but more or less manages to stay on track.

I'm not sure whether Stephanie would approve or not

Today, I paid a visit to my neighborhood library. I was long overdue to pay such a call, and it was nice to reunite like this. I paid this visit to get books, of course, but there were two other factors driving my call. You see, one rather fortunate timing coincidence is that each year as I resolve to do better with the list project, I also get re-motivated to use the library for a completely unrelated reason: I get my W-2 form.

Now, I am not one of those people who opposes taxes. I'm all for the safety net, I think that one of the great failings of humanity is that in a time of such excess there can be such need, I don't think that privatization and deregulation are always the answer, etc. So in theory, don't oppose taxes. In practice, definitely resent them. To help get over my resentment, annually I vow to get the most out of my tax dollars and break even somehow. I'm pretty sure I've always been a net gain for the government, which is largely my parents' fault (though for a reason I'm always grateful for, so...).

When I first moved to DC, I thought "YES! Public transit is the way I will milk the system!" The joke was on me, though. WMATA managed to be so terrible so consistently that basically it is a punishment, not a perk (I never thought I'd be that girl who seriously contemplates, "Metro or Uber?"; life-style creep is real, y'all). Thus, I'm left with the library.

It's a bit challenging, though, to get my money's worth. I seem to have paid about $10,000 in taxes this year (that's a lot) (I may be reading my W-2 wrong) (I really hope I get a refund). If we assume about $7.5 per book (used bookstores, Project Gutenberg, Dover Thrift, etc. bringing it down), that's 1,333.3333 books to break even. I'm sure that you noticed that is sort of past my whole project goal, as it were. I need to find another way.

Now, I'm sure you are wondering how the visit went. Pretty well, I'd say! Monday is, in my opinion, a great day to visit the library since it is the day they are open late, and thus the day I can actually, you know, visit the library.

Though, as I walked in I had to pass a tiny little 20-something librarian yelling at four much bigger teenage guys about their refusal to stop eating candy in the library. I, of course, am on her side: I want a candy-free library as much as the next person, and for multiple reasons I identify with her and not them (I am much more likely to be on the side of impotently trying to enforce arbitrary rules than blatantly and obnoxiously defying them). That said, however, honey, you really lose a lot of your authority when you start screaming in a high-pitched voice to the other librarian about it.

This random, stream-of-consciousness post is brought to you by lonely winter nights when Josh isn't here to entertain me.

I am the one who held you/ I am the one who cried/ I am the one who watched while you died.

I know that I pledged to do better this year, but I must confess that we're not off to a great start. I should be at five books for this year, and I'm only at two. I sort of blame the library on this; I've tried to put a bunch on hold, but none have come in yet. Federal holidays, snow days (seriously, DC, seriously? You are pathetic), etc. have hindered me a bit. I'm reaching the point where I need to be pretty organized about getting books. I'm running out of the easy ones to find.

Sadly, I don't have too much to say about either Bel-Ami or Rob Roy. I did find Rob Roy to be educational, at least. I learned lots about Scottish history and reminded myself about the whole Hanover/Stuart progression with the British Monarchy. The stuff I've forgotten about the British Monarchy (mostly around Richard III, now that I think of it). Bel-Ami, I don't have much to say. I read it after reading a New Yorker article about Roger Ailes (yes, yes, yes, I know: never buy the New Yorker when you are behind on the list), and I felt like there should be some interesting comparisons to make, but mostly I thought Bel-Ami was sort of dull.

I've also been reading this book about Boole and Shannon and the role of Boolean logic in electrical engineering. It was my airplane treat, and it was a lot of fun. And I may have re-read A Ring of Endless Light (and cried).

Oh, this post was boring, you say? Well, here's a picture of me doing static.