A Reader Lives a Thousand Lives

When I was a little girl my Momma never went anywhere without a book. Some mass market paperback version of the new Stephen King, or Dean Koontz was always tucked in her purse. She bestowed a love of reading on to me at such an early age.

I poured through books as an elementary school kid. I even won a contest in 1^st grade for reading 100 books in one school year! As I became a teenager, when the phone and eventually “hanging out” took over my life, while I would pick up a book now and then, I rarely read past the requirements of my English classes. In college it was even worse. Who the hell has time to read for pleasure in college?!?! When you show up on the first day, listen to lecture, and in your first class are assigned 9 chapters……before TOMORROW? Yeah, no escaping into a love story tonight! (This implies that I always read the material for my class the next day. Sometimes I would – if something better didn’t come along. I mean when your neighbor is having a get-together, you can’t not show, can you?)

After college I would read books every now and then. But I got out of college and had a baby. Ya know, there should be a billboard in front of every high school about babies: Sleep too much? Too much time on your hands? Think about yourself too much? Desire financial responsibility for the rest of your life? Too much time NOT cleaning up bodily fluids? HAVE A BABY! As the kids got older, and would ACTUALLY go to bed at a decent hour, I did read progressively more, but I’ve always been a busybody and have always had too many irons in the fire. For me time has always been like alcohol to an alcoholic, as soon as I have a little bit, I promptly consume it.

When I started the work I’m doing now, all time for books went out the window. I found myself working increasingly more hours and, when I would have time for a book, I was reading contracts, or books on negotiation techniques. I obsess. And, when I find something to obsess over, I go all in. There’s no obsession I work at half ass. If I’ve decided it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing RIGHT.

Now, as I am older, and my kids prefer video games and smart phones to my presence, I find myself with a little more time. Or at least I am attempting to make a little more time in my life. It has become clear to me that the life of obsession, over only one thing, is unsustainable. And so I’m diversifying my obsessions.

Lucky for me, Mikey shares many of these traits. And our obsessions are very similar in so many ways. We recently sat down before the end of the year and brainstormed a list of things we’d like to do in the upcoming year. Over half or more of the things on my list and his matched. One of them was “Read more books.”

In the last six months or so, we find ourselves particularly enjoying spending hours at the thrift store searching through books. For us, owning books seems something akin to collecting antiques. Eventually we figure a book, written on paper, and bound in such an artistic way, will be a thing of the past. And we just aren’t ready to let go of that past. Whether they ever are worth anything? I don’t know, and frankly I don’t care. I love a good book collection – always have. And so we are building ours.

The thing is though, we love books so much, and are interested in so much, that there are times we walk out of there with 2 paper bags full of books. Since we’ve done this a few times now, we talked about limiting ourselves to a weekly trip, with a preset amount to spend: $13.05. That is the price of 5 books (if they are on the high end of the pricing scale). We decided that we will shop as usual and if the combination of the books in our hands at the end of our trip is greater than 5, we will have to start bargaining over which ones to put back. (Fortunate for me that I negotiate for a living – however he’s pretty. damn. good.)

Yesterday, after we hit the gym, we wandered over to see what we could find. Funny, when you’ve bought a hundred books in the last month you’d think there’s nothing left to want to buy. WRONG! We left a couple on the shelf (with no real bickering) and brought 5 home.

And I can’t wait to go back! It could be worse...at least this latest obsession is fairly inexpensive. And we're making reading time a priority - I've already read 3 books in the last 2 weeks!

Try, Try Again

The other day my daughter asked me why I don’t blog anymore. I guess it’s because life is so busy. And sometimes even the things we really enjoy can become a chore. I am resistant to tell even myself that I am going to start doing something regularly for fear that I won’t follow through. The impending failure is too much. I have so much self doubt, my ability to cope with failure is all taken up by my job. I don’t have room to disappoint myself too.

I enjoy writing; I always have. I’ve always wanted to write a book. I still have a promise lingering out there in the universe to my 9th grade English teacher, Mr. Hamel, to dedicate my first book to him. But I write a lot for work – nothing therapeutic or funny (ok, maybe sometimes my sarcastic brand of humor works its way in), or in any way documents my life experiences, but the need to put words on a page is fulfilled.

 I didn’t really ask Lil about why she was asking; I seem to recall we were laughing at something that her brother said. I suppose it’s because even though she finds it embarrassing at times, she likes that I write about her and her brother. When she was younger I wouldn’t let her read what I wrote. It wasn’t for them. It was for me, and for those of my friends who felt like connecting with me, sharing in my joys, and in my frustrations. Now, I would let her read it, but she’s no longer got any access to the internet (that’s a story for another day). Reading back on a few of the posts, I’m glad I wrote them. They provide a memory, more accurately told because of the timeliness of capturing the moment. When that moment may otherwise fade – the details evaporating as new memories fill their space – it’s here in black and white to look back at and laugh about.

 Now I’m encouraging her to write her own blog. I don’t have any expectation that she will become the next blogger phenom. Like me, English and writing come naturally to her. Written words on the page help her to clear her head, organize her thoughts, and express her feelings in a way that she can’t express otherwise. Her unique perspective could also help others (something I hope for in my musings here).

 With 2 other bloggers in the house, I want to renew my intention to capture moments in writing. I’m not a resolution kind of girl. But I do reflect – on what I’ve accomplished, where I could’ve done better, on the goals I have, and on how I wish to spend my time. Intention in my line of work means everything. And while the road to hell may be paved with them, I’m headed there anyway so why not intend to write again?

Here I go again

Every year I say that I am going to be better about blogging and every year I make it just a little bit further into the year. In 2013 I made it through to March and then I quit. Life got in the way, work got in the way and sometimes I was just being lazy or didn't feel like I had anything to say. And so, here I am again, with renewed ambition. We all have things that help us ease stress and induce calm. Writing does that for me - even if it's just talking about some new recipe I tried. Refocusing my energy away from work (especially now that I have a newer, more intense job) and towards something else is always refreshing and relaxing....and my family will tell you if it's one thing I need to do it's relax.

I know that it's not quite the new year, but I thought maybe I would start now. I'm really only two days away anyway. And I'm totally stressing out about the next 6 days. In 6 days I am flying to Boston where I will be staying for 6 weeks! I'm worried about leaving my work behind, I'm worried I'm not going to pack the right stuff, I'm worried about the unknown that will meet me in Cambridge, I'm worried that I'm going to miss my husband and kids so terribly that I'm going to be miserable, I'm worried about making friends, and on and on and on.

I'm working on quelling some of my fears. I've already written list after list after list for packing. And, if you follow me on Pinterest, you'll know that I've been compiling outfits that are inter-related so that I can maximize pairing different things together. I've done my best to get things taken care of at work ahead of time but I am still leaving in the middle of contract negotiations with a sensitive group that has already been through a lot.

 Mostly, the main root of my fears is that I feel selfish for pursuing this schooling (at Harvard! Did I mention that?) at the expense of the hubs and my kids. I'm going to miss my daughter's birthday. I'm going to miss countless wrestling matches and basketball games. I know they'll be ok and can make it without me, but I work hard to make sure our family life runs smoothly. Perhaps I won't be scarring the kids for life - heck, maybe they'll barely notice - but either way I hope that I am at the very least showing them what it means to take the once-in-a-lifetime opportunities that are presented to you and finding a way to make it happen.

Now, I have to get back to creating my family notebook for my mom. (She's going to be staying here off and on while I'm gone.) As I've been typing it I almost think it would a nice thing to have around all the time - contact info, medical stuff, dog care, kids chores, their schedules - but I hope that it helps her.

I know that I will be reachable by phone. And I hope to be able to Skype with them every night. And, we even are taking the opportunity to fly them out to see me for a week. But I still won't be here at home.

Beginning the Journey

While I've always enjoyed writing, I had an English teacher in 9th grade who inspired and challenged me to push the boudaries of my creativity; to put some real effort into developing a piece of writing instead of spewing whatever came to mind first (which I probably would've pulled a solid A minus on anyway!) I excelled in that class and it created the foundation for my writing ability throughout college and beyond. I've been known to create insightful and thought provoking writing; sometimes about a subject I know nothing about!

I love the written language. I like the shape of the letters and how different words look in different fonts. I like the fact that the English language is so convoluted in its rules, or guidelines, and yet I am an excellent speller. For me writing is an outlet, an accomplishment, and my most successful way of communicating.

When I graduated from High School I told that teacher that I would dedicate my first book to him. Sadly, it remains unwritten. But here I am attempting this journal of sorts: things that happen, things I wish for, things I like, things I don't, and generally documenting my life story. It's no book Mr. Hamel, but I will still dedicate it to you! Thank you for one of the greatest gifts I posess!

Nik