I have this grand idea that I am going to read a great deal of books this year. The intent is always there and then I end up reading only a handful of books every year instead of hitting double digits.
The list of books I would like to stick to or am aiming to read are these:
- The Goldfinch
- Hardboiled Wonderland and the End of the World
- Red Rising
- House of Leaves
- Stone Mattress: Nine Tales
- The Invention of Solitude
- Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
- The Book of Strange New Things
- Missing Person
- The Book of Disquiet
That’s all I have for now. The elusive 12th book (at the hopeful pace of 1 book a month) I’m sure will come to mind sooner or later.
“I have no sense of self. I have no personality, no brilliant color. I have nothing to offer. That’s always been my problem. I feel like an empty vessel. I have a shape, I guess, as a container, but there’s nothing inside.”
“Let’s say you are an empty vessel. So what? What’s wrong with that?” Eri said. “You’re still a wonderful, attractive vessel. And really, does anybody know who they are? So why not be a completely beautiful vessel? The kind people feel good about, the kind people want to entrust with precious belongings.”
— Haruki Murakami – Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
I just experienced the dizzying emotion of the jarring reality of life outside myself and I pray to the existential gods that I can just learn to let go. I am literally internally disoriented right now and I can’t shake the feeling…
My faults and flaws are so clearly showing I sometimes wonder how anyone can tolerate me at all. But at least in thinking that I am assuaged I am better apart from the aforementioned alternate reality. There, I am calmer — but only for now.
January felt at once both slow, with cold nights and early bed times, and fast, with the end of the month arriving almost too soon.
Mostly I can’t help but wonder what new things will transpire this year based primarily on the rate of change my 2014 experienced. This month I started at the new work and am now the proud owner of a gorgeous Siberian Husky named Caspian and spent most of my free time with my fairly new boyfriend (a last-minute 2014 feat).
My goal for creating a set routine is slowly starting to take shape. I take great comfort in constantly and continually getting things done. Idle time is wasted time and it strains my mood considerably. Exhaustion is always preferable to me than restlessness – physically. Mentally, that’s another story. I prefer to keep my mind entertained rather than under extreme duress.
Admittedly I only have three days under my belt, but the new routine consists of waking up at 3:30a and going to sleep at 9p. The trick is in fitting in the most productivity between the hours of 3p and 9p which only amounts to 6 hours. This leaves little to no room for time wastefulness. Here is where mindfulness comes into play though: knowing that sitting around doing ‘nothing (of value)’ is completely destructive.
The days have mostly been a mixed bag thus far which isn’t bad. Things are moving along at a steady pace which isn’t bad. I don’t have anything substantial to note at the moment. But such is the case when I subsist on a basic existence of happiness which… isn’t bad.