I've recently discovered that no matter how much reading I have for school, I can't sleep properly or be sufficiently happy unless I'm reading a book, and also thinking about the next book I'm going to read.
These musings are partially inspired by an artist's lecture by Andrea Zittel (who was pretty great) where she talked about her clothing. Following the idea that rules and limitations can sometimes be liberating as opposed to stifling, she elected to adopt a type of uniform to wear everyday. Uniform? That word takes me back to junior high... Zittel wears a black tee shirt (washed daily to avoid cartoonish "stinky lines") underneath a hand-made dress for about six months and then she creates a
different design and wears that for about a season. Instead of feeling restricted she said that she found herself perpetually excited and always thinking ahead to the next design, and thus felt that it expanded her creative horizons.
I'm not sure if I'm ready to adopt an every six months outfit, but I loved the idea that rules that you set for yourself can actually be liberating and help you look forward to the future.
I have never thought of it as a "rule" but I always have a book on my nightstand and I'm always thinking about my next book. I blame my parents who read to me before I went to sleep and were always reading something themselves. I dare say the process has gotten rather regimented, in the way that I chose genres.
War and Peace was followed by a few Harry Potters, and a contemporary fiction novel is always coupled with a classic (they're tried and true, and cheaper after all). I also tend to chose things that Michael hasn't read--take that, English major--which has lead to a healthy competition (which he's losing) over who's read more Barnes and Noble classics.
Last term, I fell off the wagon. I didn't even bring very many novels to school, allocating my bookshelf space to
Greek Art and
Contemporary Feminist Theory. I do have a rather daunting amount of assigned reading every week, but it doesn't scratch the same itch. Today, I figured out why. Eureka!
Because I cannot read Art History in the bathtub. It's too dangerous to risk water damage on some of these books, and I tend to have to take notes. It is possible to scribble in margins and delicately balance notebooks on your knees while the textbook teeters on the edge of the tub, but it is NOT possible to decipher these writings later. My baths have become shorter, less bubbly or salty and fundamentally less satisfying without a book. I think I thought that reading a novel on top of everything else would cause a sort of brain explosion. But, it turns out novels make me happier and my brain feels more substantial. So, I'm retreating back to the world of books.
On a side note, I believe books should be loved--they should be smeared with chocolate, burned by hair straighteners and really, very wrinkled. Many book-lovers consider this blasphemy. I'm not allowed to borrow books from Michael unless I swear I won't break the binding or bring them near water or food. One of the cutest things I ever heard my friend Mandy say was that she used to be so worried that her books would get hurt in her backpack in junior high, that she'd put them in a big ziplock baggie. I'm not of this mindset, many of my books no longer have covers. HP and the O of the P requires a rubber band to stand up straight.
Anyway, I just started a happy, little Nick Hornby book to get me started. I have a new rule: read before bed and whenever else you want to. And, frankly, thinking about what book should come next is just about the most exciting thing I've got going today. I'm not sure if it's making me more creative...but it feels pretty good.
"There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them."
--Slyvia Plath.
I found this quote particularly inspiring because I read it while in the tub.
When I searched for bathtub books this came up:
Maybe I should try Baby Loony Toons rub-a-dub books...
