Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it. Or am I?
Because my reading behaviour and quirks don't interest you lot in the slightest, I'll share another personal tidbit that somewhat relates to reading. Because hey, it's my blog and I'll whine if I want to, whiiiine if I want to ..
.. ahem.
I'm a neurotic. I have tics. Not of the facial kind, or in any other way physical; my tics are all located somewhere on the biological harddrive of the supercomputer that is my brain and, luckily, they stay there, and don't feel the need to make their presence felt by urging me to tap the doorknob five times whenever I enter a room.
But they're there. They're definitely there.
My worst, or most dominant, tic? Saving the best for last.
It's horrible. I do it with food, for instance. Whatever I'm eating, I'm subconsciously scanning my plate for the best looking bit of food, and I purposefully eat my way around it, so that that yummy looking bit will be the last bit to be brutally impaled on my fork, to be shred to pieces by my teeth, and to ravage my tastebuds until they orgasm in an orgy of patalable goodness.
My point is, I have tics. Now get a load of this.
Books. I have a shelf full of 'em, all handpicked by yours truly to fully match my literary tastes and intellectual needs, and the bulk of them as of yet unread; yet still I very rarely pick up one of these new books and more often than not I find myself skipping these books, while browsing my shelves, in favour of another book I have already read but am willing to reread. Why is this? Is this the aforementioned tic, or is this something else altogether?
To exemplify, I'll get specific on your ass. I have, in my possesion, a glorious hardcopy set of Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle, a series of books that weaves a fictional tale of epic proportions around factual historical events of the late 17th and early 18th century. Add to that the fact that these three books function as a prequel to Stephenson cryptological behemoth Cryptonomicon, one of my all time favourite novels, and you'll understand that I really, really, really want to read these novels.
Yet, they've been gathering dust on my shelf for almost a year now.
Now, my question to you, dear reader - can I ascribe this odd phenomenon to the tic I described above, my compulsive urge and subconscious need to save the best books for last; or is this some kind of irrational and subconscious fear, and am I afraid that these books, which I have been in huge anticipation of due to several reasons, will in the end disappoint me?
I don't know. You tell me.
Cheers
.. ahem.
I'm a neurotic. I have tics. Not of the facial kind, or in any other way physical; my tics are all located somewhere on the biological harddrive of the supercomputer that is my brain and, luckily, they stay there, and don't feel the need to make their presence felt by urging me to tap the doorknob five times whenever I enter a room.
But they're there. They're definitely there.
My worst, or most dominant, tic? Saving the best for last.
It's horrible. I do it with food, for instance. Whatever I'm eating, I'm subconsciously scanning my plate for the best looking bit of food, and I purposefully eat my way around it, so that that yummy looking bit will be the last bit to be brutally impaled on my fork, to be shred to pieces by my teeth, and to ravage my tastebuds until they orgasm in an orgy of patalable goodness.
My point is, I have tics. Now get a load of this.
Books. I have a shelf full of 'em, all handpicked by yours truly to fully match my literary tastes and intellectual needs, and the bulk of them as of yet unread; yet still I very rarely pick up one of these new books and more often than not I find myself skipping these books, while browsing my shelves, in favour of another book I have already read but am willing to reread. Why is this? Is this the aforementioned tic, or is this something else altogether?
To exemplify, I'll get specific on your ass. I have, in my possesion, a glorious hardcopy set of Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle, a series of books that weaves a fictional tale of epic proportions around factual historical events of the late 17th and early 18th century. Add to that the fact that these three books function as a prequel to Stephenson cryptological behemoth Cryptonomicon, one of my all time favourite novels, and you'll understand that I really, really, really want to read these novels.
Yet, they've been gathering dust on my shelf for almost a year now.
Now, my question to you, dear reader - can I ascribe this odd phenomenon to the tic I described above, my compulsive urge and subconscious need to save the best books for last; or is this some kind of irrational and subconscious fear, and am I afraid that these books, which I have been in huge anticipation of due to several reasons, will in the end disappoint me?
I don't know. You tell me.
Cheers
6 Comments:
Boys and girls, this is the prime example of why reading too much is bad for you.
Read one or 2 book a year is fine, but when you have a shelf full of books, see what happens?
Let this be a lesson to everyone out there.
Yes. Books are evil. Watch TV. You don't have to think. You don't have to have an inmagination. and you can eat with both hands while watching. Can you do that with a book? Nooooo.
One or two books a year would kill me stone dead. This year I've read 13, which, quite possibly, is an all-time low for me.
Literature beats any other form of media, hands down.
Cheers
Mike, you are sooooo right.
Besides, there are many things other than eating you can do with both hands while you're watching TV.
*cough guttermind cough*
Cheers
I was thinking along the line of knitting or folding laundry.
You're the one with dirty mind.
Post a Comment
<< Home