A Dewey Decimal System of My Own

 Since I abandoned the social media platform previously known as, well, as not a single-letter name, I've been using and enjoying Mastodon, a decentralized version of microblogging. In a nutshell, anyone can start a Mastodon server, and there's no corporate overlord making crappy decisions designed to tank its stock value on purpose. Also, there's no stock value.

Mastodon is part of what's been named the Fediverse, which is the umbrella term for all sorts of decentralized versions of popular web sites. Even better, these federated sites are designed to work in concert with each other, which in my opinion is one of the main goals of an altruistic version of what the Internet can be.

Another part of the Fediverse is BookWyrm, a federated version of Goodreads. I used to try to use Goodreads to track my books and my reading, but I fell out of using it for some reason. With an exploration of the Fediverse and my discovery of BookWyrm, I've found myself back in the world of obsessively tracking the books I own, and which ones I've read or not.

I think part of what caused me to drift away from Goodreads was that I felt like I was being too obsessive about tracking everything: what was wrong with just reading and enjoying a good book? Did I have to enter it into a database and categorize it and rate it and review it?

Getting back into tracking my books has made me realize I think I was growing embarrassed about how much I enjoyed sorting and updating my own library. It was weird, right? But now, I don't think I care. At least, I'm trying not to care.

Taking things that are disorganized (or poorly organized) and applying some kind of logical order to them actual gives me joy. I can admit that now. I like tidying up when my office gets overly cluttered. It not only gives me a sense of satisfaction, but I feel I've accomplished something by making it better. In this case, keeping better track of books I've read and books I want to read, and books I own or that I once owned and can't remember if I got rid of them for some reason.

It's kind of a large undertaking, since I possess far too many books (especially now that I've started using my Kindle more and more). But as long as I only do maybe a shelf a night, and only then if I feel like it and not because I have to keep at it until it's done, it's been pretty enjoyable.

And regarding the title of this post: I don't actually have any kind of self-created system for categorizing my books. I just liked the sound of it as the title of a blog entry. Again: possibly showing my weird to the world, but I care less and less about that. And that's good.

Off.

 I finally get it.

I never really understood why people who were on medication would ever intentionally stop taking them, short of the medication making them feel worse than they did without it.

But what about making them feel less than they did without it?

I've noticed during the past few years that I wasn't crying at movies anymore, even movies that were once guaranteed to make me at least tear up, no matter how many times I'd seen them. I could sense the emotions present in YouTube videos of animals rescued from abusive situations or military personnel surprising their kids by returning from overseas and showing up at some school event. Both of those used to be automatic waterworks triggers but now, nothing.

I missed it. I missed the emotional release of letting tears flow, then gathering myself with a few breaths and moving on.

Salvaged from LiveJournal: November 27th, 2001

mood:  determined

music: TV: Saturday Night Live (Hans & Franz)

I've become quite the curmudgeon.

What scares me is how everything I'm reading about my impending fatherhood tells me how much behavior is learned through mimicry. I really don't want to be startled one day a few years down the road by how whiny and critical my child has become.

So when do I start being the person I want to be? Today wasn't a bad start. I was able to drive to the train station this morning and let people pass me at a rate of speed far too great for the road I was on, and all I said was "Wow, I hope she doesn't kill anyone." No expletives, no irrational desire to speed up and cut that person off and leap out of my car to give her a lesson in safe driving practices. I had a fairly crappy day at work, and I was still able to leave at 4:30 with a smile on my face. I stopped by the store to pick up some cat food and litter (input and output!) and I bought my wife a stuffed snowman- just because. Today was actually a good day.

"Live and let live" is a fairly common cliche, but I hope I can live that phrase. I've become far too judgmental. This is a big world, with vast diversity. Why would I think that I know what's best for everyone? I would much rather be the fellow with the bemused grin than the guy seething with frustration at every little thing.