Monday, November 9, 2009

some thoughts on books and weightloss.

In case you guys haven't noticed by now, I'm kind of a nerd about some things. One nerdy thing about me is that since 2003, I've been keeping a list of all the books I read. I can't remember why I started this, I think maybe I had made a New Year's resolution to read 52 books that year? (Which I did, by the way.) So anyway, I started keeping track, writing them all down in this little journal, starting a new list at the start of each new year.

The journal has been falling apart for awhile though, and today I randomly decided it would be a good idea to finally transcribe all the information into a Google document, for safe-keeping. It's been fun going through my history of reading. Man, I really like Harry Potter, apparently!

Anyway, one interesting thing I've noticed is that I've read a LOT more books this year than I have in the past three or four years, and I found myself wondering if that was in any related to weightloss. The weird thing is, I think it kind of is.

If you look at the books I've read this year, a lot of them are pretty trashy. Like, I'm talking serials about WERECATS kind of trashy. So I have a higher quantity of books read, but a lot of them aren't so high on the quality rating. So how does that relate to weightloss?

I think this year, I finally learned to not care so much what people think. I used to be really concerned with being cool and fun, so I felt like I had to live it up at parties, go out for dinner or drinks whenever I was invited (and eat enough to put everyone else at ease, of course!). This also translated into feeling like I always had to read the 'in' book of the moment. (Yes, I was lucky enough that in my circle of friends, books were generally considered a subject that was cool and fun.) So anyway, I was always slogging my way through some piece of hipster literary fiction or another. And I liked a lot of them, don't get me wrong. And I also liked the constant houseparties and the frequent trips out for beer and wings and whatever else.

But now, I don't know. I don't care anymore. I don't care what people think. I go to bed early and I get excited about things like slowcookers and honeycrisp apples and running on a treadmill. And I don't feel any pressure, either, to read stuff that I think will impress other people. Now I read books about lonely werewolf girls, if that's what I feel like reading, and I call it a day.

I dunno, maybe I'm stretching to make a connection here, but I don't think I'm totally wrong. I also think that when it comes to books, like much of the rest of my life, I'm still looking for that balance. Books are a bit like food, in the sense that there's only so much crap one can consume before one starts to feel a bit sick, and I do miss the kind of books that really stretched my mind. So I'm starting to balance out my trashy reads with some better ones, just like I'm starting to work friendships and socializing back into my days. It's a long process, but I think I'll be happier for it, in the end.