Books are some of my favorite things. Which makes sense, since reading has been one of my favorite things since I made my first tentative solitary way through a Muppet Babies picture book in first grade. My mom has gotten used to me not hearing her the first time because my nose is in a book and Chris and Cary both give me a hard time, saying they can’t leave me alone for longer than 30 seconds before I find something to read. My book collection is suitably big. In my parents’ house I have over a hundred books stuffed into various bookcases—and (except for a six month relapse) I don’t even live there anymore! I’ve moved ridiculously heavy boxes of books up four flights of stairs in college, twelve hours down I-95 from Boston, and now I’m proposing to carry them to Baltimore. I have a certifiable book addiction, and while it’s not as bad as a coke addiction, it’s a lot heavier to move.
So the fact that I was given a Kindle for my birthday is not just generous but practical. But the fact that I now own a Kindle has brought up a huge moral dilemma for me. There are such pros and cons, it makes my head spin.
Kindles are practical. They don’t weigh anything, and they carry so many books! And while I don’t really live the greenest of lifestyles, I do appreciate the fact that saving trees through using less paper is a good thing. And, not to be forgotten in this time of less-than-flushness, books tend to be cheaper on a Kindle than in full-size.
But I LOVE books. No matter what those annoying commercials say, you can’t get the sensory experience of a book through a Kindle. Clicking a button is not the same as turning a page. And as a certified nerd who has spent years highlighting lines in books, clicking a little note with a cursor does nothing for me. Also, as a nearly obsessive re-reader, flipping back through a book is much easier and more enjoyable than clicking back through the pages of a Kindle. Finally, there are some downsides to technology—all of those “make life simpler” tech things seem to end up making life more complicated when they mystically stop working! For example, from my own experience: this is what a Kindle looks like when it’s been stepped on:
And this is what one of my favorite books looks like when it’s been stepped on:
You see the benefits of the old fashioned way of life.
Plus, I love bookstores. I can, and have, spend hours inside them, wandering around, enjoying the temperature control and the free restrooms, dabbling in every kind of book I could ever want to read. I for one was a big Borders fan, and I am so sad they are closing!!! I have Borders that mean something to me—the one on Boylston Ave around the corner from the Hand M in Boston, the one in Friendship Heights, the one in Hilltop—and they are all going to be gone! I don’t want bookstores to go the way of record stores. So I think it’s important to buy books, actual honest books, before we’re all just using the ITunes of reading. But who can I count on to do that if even I—book and bookstore lover—choose to buy on Kindle than in the store? I feel like such a traitor.
When I got home, I realized one of the books I wanted was not available on Kindle. So I guess I will be going back to the bookstore. I guess that’s the best of both worlds. And I guess I will have to continue to balance my loyalties, because I’d hate for the book gods to find me out!
Speaking of unreasonable attachments, I have finally started packing (AAAAAHHHHHHHH) and as I always have to do, went through a lot of my clothes to find the ones I never wear and should donate to Goodwill. And like I do every single time I do it, I got all teary-eyed. Does that happen to anyone else out there? Surely someone else out there has a hard time picking out clothes the want to give away? Ok, so maybe I haven’t worn that H&M shirt for two years because it got magically too tight in the chest and has a mystery stain on the stomach and kind of makes me look pregnant, but I had good times in that shirt. I wore it in Mexico City visiting Freddie, I have pictures of me wearing it with Karen at the Zoo in DC, and I went on a darn good date in it. By putting it in a pile and acknowledging I’m never going to see it again, to me it feels like I'm acknowledging that those good times it represented are over. This is why I’m a packrat, and terrible at packing, and all that; I have too good a memory (who remembers what shirt they wore when?!?!?) and am hopelessly sentimental.
Luckily I can blame this on my parents—as Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes posits when asked why he committed some horrible mischief, “Poor genetic material?” First of all, they are pretty darn good packrats themselves. Second of all, they love Mary Chapin Carpenter, and she has a song that I listened too all of the time as a kid and it explains the exact same attitude I have about my clothes and my books—
This Shirt, by MCC
This shirt is old and faded
All the color's washed away
I've had it now for more damn years
Than I can count anyway
I wear it beneath my jacket
With the collar turned up high
So old I should replace it
But I'm not about to try
This shirt's got silver buttons
And a place upon the sleeve
Where I used to set my heart up
Right there anyone could see
This shirt is the one I wore to every boring high school dance
Where the boys ignored the girls
And we all pretended to like the band
This shirt was a pillow for my head
On a train through Italy
This shirt was a blanket beneath the love
We made in Argeles
This shirt was lost for three whole days
In a town near Buffalo
'Till I found the locker key
In a downtown Trailways bus depot
This shirt was the one I lent you
And when you gave it back
There was a rip inside the sleeve
Where you rolled your cigarettes
It was the place I put my heart
Now look at where you put a tear
I forgave your thoughtlessness
But not the boy who put it there
This shirt was the place your cat
Decided to give birth to five
And we stayed up all night watching
And we wept when the last one died
This shirt is just an old faded piece of cotton
Shining like the memories
Inside those silver buttons
This shirt is a grand old relic
With a grand old history
I wear it now for Sunday chores
Cleaning house and raking leaves
I wear it beneath my jacket
With the collar turned up high
So old I should replace it
But I'm not about to try
Not to be overly somber, but when so much of life is losing involuntarily or good things ending, it is difficult not to want to cling to whatever you can, even if it’s just a stupid $10 shirt. But I must move (AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH), and I must not hurt my back or pay movers extra to move things that I do not use or need—and in the case of my clothes, could be used by people who do need them. So I will continue to collect Goodwill things and buy books on Kindle. And to try to remember that every parting or ending is necessary for new meetings and beginnings. Or, you know, more shopping trips. Since now I have a bunch of empty hangers. Mwahahaha.
Finally, on a real note, several of my dear friends are having troubles much greater than Goodwill-remorse—specifically, they have family members who are struggling with serious health issues. Please send mental hugs and all the good wishes you can spare to them and their loved ones!
Love to you all, and stay cool!
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