Whenever a man sets a goal, he intends to progress toward that goal until it is met. Unfortunately, no matter what his goal is, setbacks usually abound. My goal is to complete every book, DVD, and video game that I own. My setbacks, thus, are the addition of new books, DVDs, and video games. Such additions are to me what weight gain is to dieters. For the most part, though, I control the influx of my collections; I can make a purchase or two every now and again knowing that I am only increasing my own workload. Thus, for nearly every addition to my backlog, I have no one to blame but myself. But that was not the case last week.
About a week ago, I found a packed box underneath my bed. This box had been untouched for what must have been 10 years, as that was how long ago I moved away from my childhood home. It was a box full of books. Setbacks. My heart sank upon its discovery. Why did I have to find this box? Why not ignore it? What good could have come from opening up a "mystery" box such as this one? For most, the rediscovery of a bunch of childhood books is a trip down memory lane. For me, it was a burden. Which of these had I read? Which were even worth reading as an adult? There were easily almost 100 books in this box. Was my list of unread books really about to quintuple? I shuddered at the prospect, and knew not what to do about this rediscovery.
I struggled, thinking about how to best deal with this potentially enormous setback. I briefly considered putting the box away and never even acknowledging its existence. But that would be dishonest, and I'd only be lying to myself. I considered donating or giving the majority of them away, leaving me without too many "new" owned books. But that didn't seem right either. In the end, I decided that I would read only the books that were, in some way or another, "critically acclaimed." This limited my list to two categories: obvious classics (such as Pinocchio and Little House on the Prairie) and Newbery award winners (the "Oscars" for children's books). With a plan in hand, I finally decided to rummage through the box and find out just where I stood.
As it turned out, more than half of the books were serial books of some kind. These series included some of my generation's classics like Goosebumps and Animorphs in addition to smaller, lesser-known ones such as Diadem, Spooksville, and Danger.com - kudos to anyone familiar with any of those throwbacks. A number of other books were ones I had already managed to read during my childhood. After these were accounted for, only 20 or so books remained. Of these, however, at least half were in fact classics or Newbery winners. Realizing that I was only excluding a handful of unread books under my current policy, I ditched the policy and embraced all of the unread books as additions to my bookshelf and my backlog.
I'm happier this way. The quest remains legitimate in the fullest, and I haven't even had to take on a ton of extra material. The majority of these additions are less than 150 pages in length, and should make for easy reads to help mix up the pace between my more adult-oriented 400-page behemoths. For the time being, you can expect more book updates, but fewer about books you'd ever care to read.
About a week ago, I found a packed box underneath my bed. This box had been untouched for what must have been 10 years, as that was how long ago I moved away from my childhood home. It was a box full of books. Setbacks. My heart sank upon its discovery. Why did I have to find this box? Why not ignore it? What good could have come from opening up a "mystery" box such as this one? For most, the rediscovery of a bunch of childhood books is a trip down memory lane. For me, it was a burden. Which of these had I read? Which were even worth reading as an adult? There were easily almost 100 books in this box. Was my list of unread books really about to quintuple? I shuddered at the prospect, and knew not what to do about this rediscovery.
I struggled, thinking about how to best deal with this potentially enormous setback. I briefly considered putting the box away and never even acknowledging its existence. But that would be dishonest, and I'd only be lying to myself. I considered donating or giving the majority of them away, leaving me without too many "new" owned books. But that didn't seem right either. In the end, I decided that I would read only the books that were, in some way or another, "critically acclaimed." This limited my list to two categories: obvious classics (such as Pinocchio and Little House on the Prairie) and Newbery award winners (the "Oscars" for children's books). With a plan in hand, I finally decided to rummage through the box and find out just where I stood.
As it turned out, more than half of the books were serial books of some kind. These series included some of my generation's classics like Goosebumps and Animorphs in addition to smaller, lesser-known ones such as Diadem, Spooksville, and Danger.com - kudos to anyone familiar with any of those throwbacks. A number of other books were ones I had already managed to read during my childhood. After these were accounted for, only 20 or so books remained. Of these, however, at least half were in fact classics or Newbery winners. Realizing that I was only excluding a handful of unread books under my current policy, I ditched the policy and embraced all of the unread books as additions to my bookshelf and my backlog.
I'm happier this way. The quest remains legitimate in the fullest, and I haven't even had to take on a ton of extra material. The majority of these additions are less than 150 pages in length, and should make for easy reads to help mix up the pace between my more adult-oriented 400-page behemoths. For the time being, you can expect more book updates, but fewer about books you'd ever care to read.
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