I declare a thumb war
It would appear to be August 18th again. That means I've been in Ithaca for four years. Of course, that's not at all true, because it's not like I've been in Ithaca every second of every day for the last four years. So perhaps properly I should say that I've now been living in Ithaca for four years. But that's not right either, because I spent most of the last year not in Ithaca. And I suppose you could argue that the whole time I was still "living" in Ithaca even though I wasn't here. But surely if I slept and worked in Berkeley for 9 months, that counts as living there, right? I mean, how long do you have to be in a place before you "live" there? Are you living there as soon as you are there? Or do you have to settle in and arrange your stuff? What if you never planned to move to a place, you just happen to end up staying somewhere for awhile. Will that ever count as living somewhere?
Um, right, so I guess I should say that it's been four years since I first came to Ithaca. But that's also not true, because I visited a couple times before August 18, 2005. The correct statement, I guess, is that it's been four years since the day on which I was first in Ithaca, accompanied by most of my belongings, in an apartment that I had at least temporary custody of. And with all those conditions and provisos, it doesn't seem like a very significant anniversary, does it?
The reason I've been going on like this is that I'm trying as hard as I can do avoid the point, which is the thing I have traditionally done on August 18th, to list the books I've read in the last year. It's really probably a silly thing to do. I think it comes from the fact that I've never been a terribly speedy reader, particularly when I was younger, so I always used to be proud of myself when I managed to put in the time to finish a book instead of going and watching Jurassic Park another 37 times. So the list thing is a bit of "look at me. Aren't I awesome? I read all these books all by myself. And I didn't even have to. I read them because I wanted to. Ha!" Which is really quite silly.
See, there I went again. I'm trying to put you off the trail, so that you don't notice that I haven't listed any books yet. It's part of my very sneaky plot. Don't you enjoy sneaky plots, though? When you're reading something and the author has some ulterior motive and plan that you don't quite see coming, and you get wrapped up in their little ploy. Isn't that fun? I think that's part of why I like Lost so much. It's like "come play our game, and we'll see how many times we can convince you the story is going one way, when in fact it was our plan all along to take it in a completely different direction, and you'll never see it coming until the big WHAM."
Okay, I think that's enough. I'm going to assume that basically none of you actually managed to wade through that entirely content-free collection of paragraphs, so I'm finally safe in admitting that the reason I don't want to list the books I read in the last year is that the list is very very very short. In fact, I'm pretty sure it contains exactly zero books that I hadn't already read (and I didn't even manage to get through the Lord of the Rings again. Disgraceful, I know), so I think we'll all be happier if I just forgo the list and hope that no one notices or cares. I'm not exactly sure why it happened that I didn't do a lot of reading last year. Perhaps I was busier than usual (which I was). Perhaps I had a bit more of a social life than usual (which I did). I had cable television (very very bad). Mostly, though, I was just very rarely in the mood to read. No idea why, but it seems to be a positive feedback thing. The less I read, the less I was in the habit of reading, and so the less I'd be in the mood for it later. Maybe I'll have more time for it this year. Oh, wait, I'm trying to graduate and get a job this year. Yeah, like that's gonna happen.
Um, right, so I guess I should say that it's been four years since I first came to Ithaca. But that's also not true, because I visited a couple times before August 18, 2005. The correct statement, I guess, is that it's been four years since the day on which I was first in Ithaca, accompanied by most of my belongings, in an apartment that I had at least temporary custody of. And with all those conditions and provisos, it doesn't seem like a very significant anniversary, does it?
The reason I've been going on like this is that I'm trying as hard as I can do avoid the point, which is the thing I have traditionally done on August 18th, to list the books I've read in the last year. It's really probably a silly thing to do. I think it comes from the fact that I've never been a terribly speedy reader, particularly when I was younger, so I always used to be proud of myself when I managed to put in the time to finish a book instead of going and watching Jurassic Park another 37 times. So the list thing is a bit of "look at me. Aren't I awesome? I read all these books all by myself. And I didn't even have to. I read them because I wanted to. Ha!" Which is really quite silly.
See, there I went again. I'm trying to put you off the trail, so that you don't notice that I haven't listed any books yet. It's part of my very sneaky plot. Don't you enjoy sneaky plots, though? When you're reading something and the author has some ulterior motive and plan that you don't quite see coming, and you get wrapped up in their little ploy. Isn't that fun? I think that's part of why I like Lost so much. It's like "come play our game, and we'll see how many times we can convince you the story is going one way, when in fact it was our plan all along to take it in a completely different direction, and you'll never see it coming until the big WHAM."
Okay, I think that's enough. I'm going to assume that basically none of you actually managed to wade through that entirely content-free collection of paragraphs, so I'm finally safe in admitting that the reason I don't want to list the books I read in the last year is that the list is very very very short. In fact, I'm pretty sure it contains exactly zero books that I hadn't already read (and I didn't even manage to get through the Lord of the Rings again. Disgraceful, I know), so I think we'll all be happier if I just forgo the list and hope that no one notices or cares. I'm not exactly sure why it happened that I didn't do a lot of reading last year. Perhaps I was busier than usual (which I was). Perhaps I had a bit more of a social life than usual (which I did). I had cable television (very very bad). Mostly, though, I was just very rarely in the mood to read. No idea why, but it seems to be a positive feedback thing. The less I read, the less I was in the habit of reading, and so the less I'd be in the mood for it later. Maybe I'll have more time for it this year. Oh, wait, I'm trying to graduate and get a job this year. Yeah, like that's gonna happen.