What Goes In

I’ve tried, various times and various ways, to separate myself from my mindless media consumption. The truth is, I’m terrible at it. I have just enough legitimate media usage in a day that I find myself in a vortex–I sit down to write a blog post (the dog’s blog is updated almost every day) and to comment on the blogs of my readers (people actually comment on the dog’s blog) and to check my e-mail, and suddenly I’m checking Facebook for the 43rd time a day, just to see if there’s anything new.

I even understand why I do it–I have a lot of time on my hands that I would, honestly, prefer not to have, so I invent ways to seem busy. Seeming busy and well-connected via Facebook, even when there’s nothing new there, or e-mail, even when it’s just advertisements, is easier for me than seeming sad and lonely washing the dishes.

Depressing rabbit hole aside, though, my superego has things it would prefer to use my brain for than playing a Facebook game or reading an endless stream of blogs that mostly make me feel inadequate. That is, without the crutch of killing time, I suspect I would pretty seamlessly solve the actual problem.

While, obviously, I just need to get better about thinking before I pick up an electronic gadget, that obviously isn’t getting me anywhere. So I’m going old-school. I’m putting my laptop back upstairs. I don’t go up there often during the day, and my desk isn’t prodigiously comfortable. It’s good enough for those things that I do, really need to do, but it won’t tempt me to hang out there, semi-vegetal, for hours on end.

I’ll let you know how it goes.


Books, revisited

The books are the first thing on list of possessions to sort.

I don’t have any interest in living a life free of books. I’m not even interested in owning, say, ten. Beyond that it gets hard. When we moved into this house we had something like 725 books. That was after what I considered to be a quite vigorous paring, and it didn’t include my knitting books.

I started making the first cut today.

books to go

One little box, culled from one little shelf. (For some reason, all the books in the A-B book case are mine. The C-E shelf starts with a large group that belong to my husband, hence the break.)

It’s a beginning.