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.