Because I Care Enough About You to Want You to Do Well

This past week I was on Spring Break so I made the painfully long [1] pilgrimage up north to see my girlfriend and her family [2]. There we watched movies [3], answered thought-provoking questions, ate good food, were blown away at a couple soccer matches [4], and baked cakes for three birthdays [5]. We also helped her little brother with his state history project [6] but the event this post refers to occurred the night before we left to visit my parents [7].

We were sitting around quite a while after the birthday party discussing the usuals of politics and the economy, when I noticed her little brother [8] sneak down from the top floor and further descend the stairs to the basement den. At first I assumed that he had forgotten something as he had been playing down there earlier; however, when he tarried and I could faintly hear some sounds, I knew exactly what he was doing. Not wanting to break up the others' conversation, I walked down the stairs myself.

I found him sitting in his Jar Jar Binks inflatable chair playing his X-Box 360 [9]. After telling him a couple times to save and shut down, and being blatantly ignored, I turned the game off.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you know it's time for bed. You have school and tests tomorrow. You need sleep."

"I can sleep right here in my Jar Jar chair."

"No, you need to go up to bed and get a good night's sleep. Besides, Jar Jar is creepy."

"You can't make me, I'm staying right here!"

At this point I reminded him of my alternate identity as the tickle monster, thus removing him from the chair. I then carried him to the foot of the steps and told him to go on up.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I care enough about you to want you to do well."

This stopped him for a second and then, "Well, you can't carry me up all of these stairs!"

"Wanna bet?"

At which point I carried him to the ground floor where, when he recognized he was caught, he begged to be released. I sat him down and accepted his poorly concealed hug [10] before he headed, begrudgingly, upstairs.

He got the message, much like one boy I knew way back when, who also liked to sneak down and play games at night, got the message [11].

[1] About five and a half hours but it felt longer since I was listening to Dawkins on audio book.

[2] Well worth the trip! She's the kind of girl that makes me understand my favorite Marvin Gaye song.

[3] Including one sharing the title of my favorite Bill Withers song, a blatant rip-off of Batman that allowed me to make some great '90s PSA references, and The Lincoln Lawyer, which I suggest waiting until it's out on DVD as it feels like it would be better on a home screen.

[4] No, the kids weren't that good. The wind was intense that day and left us with nice wind burns to go with our sun burns. I got to see kids kick soccer balls toward the other team's goal only to see the wind blow the ball right back over their heads. I also got to see a kid learn why you don't pee into the wind even if you were told to go by the fence that is facing the wind. Poor kid, but therapists have to make money somehow!

[5] Her mom, sister, and maternal grandfather all had birthdays that week. We celebrated them all together but we still had two cakes and one big bowl of Jell-O! I'm glad I came up with the idea of getting three candles representing the numbers of their combined ages as it made for less fire and less waxy cake.

[6] As a teacher I couldn't not help or, better put, I couldn't not criticize the meaningless organizational activity that was being passed off as a project while belittling the poorly written rubric that failed to include criteria mentioned on other randomly inserted sheets. This is why our state is doing better than their state. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

[7] A six hour drive that involves passing through two major cities and their continual construction projects. She must like Marvin Gaye too.

[8] Who was supposed to be in bed as he had school and state testing the next day.

[9] I must confess that my girlfriend, her sister, and I went in together to get this for him for Christmas so that we could prank him, but that's a tale for another day.

[10] Because I'm not buying that the squeeze was merely for stabilizing his landing.

[11] Thanks, dad! I love you! I figure you'll facebook-stalk your way here someday!

The Mark of a bibliophile

All of the rooms in my house contain books. Over-stuffed bookshelves adorn the walls of my living room, bedroom, and office. Books can even be found in my kitchen [1] and bathroom [2]. A quick search of my car will also turn up a book or two [3]. Additionally, my computer and laptop contain months of reading material with access to a plethora of further resources. I have a Kindle that is also heavily loaded with reading material.

Essentially, I am inundated with books.

Not only that, I am immersed in information. Especially when you consider that I prefer non-fiction [4] – essays, interpretations, guidance, references, memoirs, how-to books, philosophy, theology, etc. – my library is a veritable depository [5] of both esoteric and exoteric [6] thought. When mixed with my enjoyment of other forms of information, I may be considered a philosopher or gnosophile [7]. Either way you say it, had I been in the Garden of Eden, there may have been no fruit left on the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil for Adam and Eve. I would have converted it all into paper and ink for the sake of bringing books into the world.

My point is that I am a bibliophile [8]. I love reading and learning new things or rereading and spending time with an old friend. As Aunt Vivian (played by Ellen Greene) remarked of eating Ned’s (played by Lee Pace) pies in the show Pushing Daisies, “It’s like a sex addiction” [9]. I am fairly certain that books must do for me what sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll do for others – just without the nasty side effects that will ultimately consume them [10]. I must also admit that I am not monogamous when it comes to reading; I tend to have about eight or so going at the same time [11]. However, I do expect for me to be their one-and-only (I consider library books to be the harlots of the book world [12]), although I will pick up a widow from a flea market every so often and will let my friends spend some time with them occasionally.

I blame my dad. He is well known for picking up [13] large stacks of books from the public library and returning them within the same week only to replace them with a new pile. He got me into this love of reading by setting the example. I watched him read [14] countless novels [15] over the course of my life.

For me, books are a way to explore places I cannot go, to meet people who I will most likely never encounter, to toy with ideas that are not my own, to live lives that I was not born into, and to learn things that may or may not have any discernable value to my life other than the joy received from the knowledge of just how diverse creation has become [16].

I bring this up because of something I did today. I skipped lunch after church [17] so that I could afford a book at the local coffee-shop/bookstore [18]. It really is like a sex addiction, Vivian, it really is.

[1] I don’t just mean cookbooks. I sometimes read as I cook, wash dishes, or do laundry.

[2] I had a friend who poked fun at me for doing my quiet time (Christianese for prayer, Bible study, meditation, and generally spending time with God) on the can. I considered it to be a form of humble obeisance – approaching His throne from my own, if you will. My method was also a way to ensure that it happened at least once every day (take that as you will). Additionally, this was often the only time I had alone. He considered this to be ‘so weird’ that he could not conceive of doing this himself. I would like to point out that this individual would read Trivial Pursuit cards while doing his business. These were the same cards he would use when playing the game with family and friends. I win.

[3] I do not condone reading (or texting) while driving. I have a hard enough time taking a quick glance at my TomTom – thus why Yoda is my constant travel companion. Additionally, God inspired someone to create audio-books for a reason (probably to keep my girlfriend and me alive).

[4] I lump allegory in with non-fiction as long as the text has an intention akin to parable and not merely entertainment.

[5] Books are to depositories as suppositories are to butts.

[6] Exoteric is for the general public – simple, approachable, common. Esoteric is for a select few with special knowledge or interests – deep, difficult, personal.

[7] Lover of wisdom or lover of knowledge, respectively. Yes, Kyle, I had to make up the last one as I don’t want to call myself a Gnostic.

[8] Note my use of the lower-case ‘b’, indicating that I am a lover of books in general as opposed to just a Bibliophile – lover of the Bible, which I also consider myself.

[9] This show should not have been cancelled so early. A forensic fairy tale with an amazing cast, cerebral scripting, and beautiful art direction that warrants your purchase of both seasons on DVD.

[10] With the one exception of the financial depletion that also plagues bibliophiles.

[11] To my girlfriend: Do not worry, I will not do this with women. I cannot. You are far too interesting for me to have another. Besides which I could not buy more books if there were another woman, I can barely afford them now.

[12] I guess this makes librarians pimps. This thought makes me giggle.

[13] It even sounds like prostitution, doesn’t it?

[14] Okay, the reading = sex metaphor stops here. That just feels so wrong to say.

[15] Yes, he is a fan of lowly fiction, but I still love him. At least he reads smart fiction (Heinlein, Tolkien, Vonnegut, Greeley, etc.). I will admit that I like a slim picking of fiction as well, just not as much as dad.

[16] I also blame my excessive use of footnotes and links to references on my being a bibliophile.

[17] No, mom, I am not starving myself.

[18] The book is Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader by Anne Fadiman, a collection of essays I would recommend to anyone wanting to understand bibliophiles. She mentions that she didn’t consider herself fully married until after she and her husband merged their book collections – five years and one child after their wedding. Again, reading is intimate.