What shall I read?

Over the holidays, while I was organizing stuff, by which I mean "moving stuff from one place to another," I brought to the surface of my holiday-bedazzled brain this thought: "I should put all the books I want to/should read in the same place, so I will know what I have to read that I haven't already read."

Then I went and ate a couple gum drops and a couple cookies and surfed the internet and scrubbed out the lasagne pan and turned on the Christmas lights and watched sitcom reruns and slept, sort of, and woke up and ate some Frosted Mini-Wheats and thought, "Now what was it I was going to do again?" And hung up some clothes and did some laundry and downloaded some new music and made a list of the movies I want to see this week, if I see a movie every day, which, why shouldn't I? and read some stuff in my files and got the mail and asked myself, "Now what shall I read?"

The reality is, the people, that none of the books on my newly curated Books I Own But Have Not Yet Read shelf are books that have seized me by the epaulets and said, "Now listen, soldier, you need to get off that internet, straighten up and fly right and read me!" and made me say "Sir yes sir!" Instead of thus seizing me and whipping me back into reading shape, what these books are doing is looking at me balefully, pointing out my character flaws, such as

(a) lazy
(b) no stick-to-it-iveness
(c) unfocused
(d) am not Prince Hamlet nor was meant to be
(e) dawdly and unambitious

Okay, judgmental books, I get it, but you won't tell me the answer to the question: whatever shall I read? I have been in the middle of this one book  for so long that I have forgotten who the detectives all are and the main details of one of the two crimes. But Lord! I do not want to start it over, and heaven knows that I cannot move on to the last two books in the series until I finish it. Also, I fear my library's robot is not paying attention to me, since I put in a hold request for a book that is allegedly on the shelves, and yet I have heard nary a peep, nary a beep boop beep, from the robot. Robot, O Robot, wherefore dost thou turn thy book-reserving back on me?

What is there to do, then, but take pictures of the snow? I ask you.

Today's stats:

New music: Bombay Bicycle Club (thx jason mcf!)
walks: a short one at 10:45 p.m. in the breath-freezing cold
enjoying my life: lovely lunch with friends; dinner and a movie with my husband

2013, these are my demands, take them or leave them!

Today, to celebrate my daughter's birthday (happy birthday, Sophia!), we had lunch at a little grill at the mouth of the Cottonwood Canyons, Big and Little. My son, younger daughter and I drove in my car. I knew exactly where I was going. I got on the belt route and my son commandeered the iPod.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Birdy," he said.




I listened for a minute. "I was just thinking that I wanted to hear more new music this year, and maybe I would ask you guys to make me a Spotify playlist, like, once a month."

"Once a month!" he said. I smiled, and then my mind started to drift from this song to another song (from Pitch Perfect, probably), and then I was thinking about some other music and then my son said, "Aren't you supposed to get off here?"

Yep, I was. So I drove to the next exit, and got back on the belt route going the other way. But then at the designated exit there were three possible ways to go and you had to be in the right lane to go the correct way, and there was a super bossy semi that wouldn't budge and let me in the correct lane. Annoying!

I know what you're thinking: this is a long story about going to a restaurant, and you don't really care, and what's the point? The point is this: thinking about the new music I want to hear--music I haven't yet identified!--got me going, so much so that I had two wrong-way attempts before we finally got to the restaurant. I think it's a sign, is what I'm saying: surely I need more, and new, music in my life in 2013? I say yes. Maybe if I get enough new music in my life, I won't get so over-excited and dreamy that I can't find my way to a totally familiar restaurant at the mouth of the Cottonwood Canyons, Little and Big.

While I'm thinking about the year 2013, I think I also want

• more long walks
• stronger muscles 
• maybe some other kinds of movement, like dancing and swimming and skating?
• more writing

And I want to enjoy what I have, which is a full, rich life full of meaningful work, chances to learn and grow, a beautiful family, wonderful friends, and plenty of everything I need. 2013: get on it.

You must change your life.

Recently I have been contemplating these:

For your consideration: cherry red velvet Dr. Marten 8-eye lace-up boots. I know: there's really no reason to have Dr. Marten's nowadays, except: velvet. And I saw this one picture where Alexander Wang was wearing velvet Dr. Marten's, and I thought: killer. (In this velvet-boot wearing fantasy, I am a slightly built Asian man, obviously.)

Awhile before the velvet boots, I was contemplating this:

This is a Pamela Love sword ring. It is badass, it cannot be denied.

What these two talismanic items have in common is that they inspire in me a belief that they will change my life. Or motivate a change in my life. A belief that I would be more awesome with this stuff. (One more thing they share in common: they cost more money than I am currently willing to pay to indulge in magical thinking like this.)

What really needs to change in my life is the belief that stuff like this will change my life. Maybe. But sometimes a talisman works, right? New basketball shoes symbolize a new season and the joy of playing ball, or so I'm told. A new haircut symbolizes a new start. New shoes . . . don't even get me started.

Today in Target while buying my college daughter a couple of last things before she goes back to college, I tried on a new pair of shoes. They were pretty gorgeous. Magenta suede (faux), very tall, absurd for everyday life. I believed in myself, for a moment, walking around in them. And then I put them back, because come on--super tall shoes? magenta? Although I may go back to get them, I can't guarantee that I won't.

When college daughter goes home, I will put my energies into my new initiatives, aka my resolutions. (I believe I may have energy to burn when she leaves, because of the sadness.) I read an article about resolutions in the Times on Sunday. To my surprise, it said that resolvers actually are more likely to make a change than non-resolvers, even with the same goal, motivation, and means. That said, the likelihood of a real change is still pretty dismal. Read it for yourself. One other thing it said is you can't resolve more than one difficult thing at a time, because you actually have a finite amount of willpower. That's right. It's not endless. So, if you're trying to stop shopping, you can't also try to lose weight. (Seriously, this idea kind of comforts me.)

I'm pretty sure, though, that I would have more willpower if I had that badass ring.

Close-up.

About two-thirds of the way through last semester, with great gnashing of teeth and rending of garments I declared that I was going to do everything differently this semester, absolutely EVERYTHING, I was going to bin every single thing I was currently doing and every premise on which I based the things I was currently doing. It was all crap and my teaching was in bad faith. Terrible.

A couple of weeks later, I realized that I always feel this same way at the two-thirds point of each and every semester. So I decided to settle right down. In this more mellow mood, I took many, many notes on several tiny pieces of paper, some of which I still have, with the ideas I had for improving the stuff I was currently doing. Like: find a few new readings; give more detailed instructions about this and that; have two consultations in the semester instead of one; set standards and enforce them, do not yield! etcetera.

Then I turned in my grades and life turned blissful. It has been thus for a couple of weeks. I explicitly told myself that I would not think about school until the new year.

Today, the people, is that new year.

Suddenly, as I look more closely at how much I need to do to be ready, my notes seem rather inadequate to the task. Alas.

However I DO have some resolutions for the new year. That is, I have resolved to

• attend one literary reading per month,
• plan writing time each week,
• take a longer walk several times each week,
• plan a family dinner once a month,
• make more music,
• always be reading,

and I am also going to try to take the longer view when I feel like I'm the worst teacher in the world, or the lamest writer, or whatever. The long view, the people. 2012 is all about the long view.

Must:

1. put together teaching portfolio.
2. not freak out whilst in NYC, because it is big and I am small, it is groovy and I am not, it is large and contains multitudes and I, I might be puny and kind of a wimp.
3. remember that NYC and conference therein are an opportunity! a big fun opportunity!
4. pack economically.
5. get all work done before leaving Wednesday morning.
6. take down Christmas tree before Feb. 1.
7. stay calm.
8. read Scottish thriller to stay calm.
9. send three packets of poems, the ones that have come back from the short-sighted editors with bad taste, out before I leave on Wednesday.
10. remember not to not have a good time in NYC.

In 2008,

I plan not to be exhausted. Ever.

I plan to launch no more young people on major ventures, thereby having to buy them 8 white shirts and 8 pairs of dress pants and small first aid kits and get them expedited passports. Or anything like this kind of preparation, or heartbreak.

I plan to keep the new couch [cue angelic choir] dog-nibble free.

I plan not to overbake for parties--if anyone wants a large pan of surplus buttermilk brownies, holla!

I plan to appreciate my parents more, because they are awesome.

I plan to get out of the house and walk around the block or a few blocks, nearly every day.

I plan to enjoy Betty while she's still around.

I plan to have my Christmas tree down before school starts.

I plan to cut way back on over-reacting.

I plan to see more movies, because I'm always pretty sure I'm not seeing enough.

I plan to play the Haydn Klaviersonaten, Band I, sitting on my piano.

I plan to paint the bedroom.

I plan to read novels, poetry, and select nonfiction (up immediately, Jar City & Silence of the Grave by Arnaldur Indridason; Moon Tiger by Penelope Lively; Wash this Blood Clean from my Hand by Fred Vargas; also Convergence Culture by Henry Jenkins).

I plan to let go of things. I plan to take fewer things personally.

Also: I plan to capitalize on my 2007 successes, which include seeing my friends more regularly and acquiring more comfortable seating throughout the house. I plan not to backslide in a robust social life and good chair acquisition.