Loud Books and an Advent Calendar Reading Challenge

Loud Books

Do you have anything in your house that just screams at you constantly? Not out loud, of course, but in your mind? A pile of mess begging for attention? A dirty carpet demanding a vacuuming? A sink full of dishes asking what's wrong with you? 

There's this old Japanese idea that everything in your house has something to say: sometimes it's positive, sometimes it's negative, sometimes it's motivating, and sometimes it's just reminding you of basic responsibility. The theory is that the quality and tenor of your home life are highly influenced by this silent noise. If you have a lot of things sending negative messages and not much that has anything nice to say, it can drag down your mood and dim that feeling of peace and security that ideally fills a home. 

An example of something that sends positive messages in my house is my book collection. I have shelves filled with some of my favorite books in the whole wide world, and just looking at them makes me happy. Mostly.

An example of something that sends negative messages in my house is my book collection. Really it's just the ones I haven't read and the ones I was intending to reread a year or two ago but didn't. It's not that each book calling out to be read is a negative thing. I like getting excited about reading a book. The problem is that right now too many are yelling too loudly, and it's not just the physical ones on my shelf, it's the ones on my audiobook wishlist too. The longer I've owned them or had them on my list, the louder they yell. The more series I have going at a time, the louder they yell, and so on.

You'd think I'd be thankful knowing that I'm not going to run out of quality entertainment anytime soon, but instead the cacophony of books and series, things my friends want me to read and things I'm dying to start but I won't be able to for months, just creates stress. Isn't that stupid?

It's the most first world of first world problems, really shameful if I think about it at all, but that doesn't change the fact that I need my stress levels to go down and they're not going to go down unless I zero out my TBR shelf and the old end of my lists as quickly as possible and find a way to start over and start purchasing/borrowing/ogling books at a much more manageable pace. 

 

The Advent Calendar Reading Challenge

Toward the end of February, I took note of which books were the loudest and which were causing the most stress, and I created a challenge for myself. I pulled out my Advent Calendar with its 24 little doors, each door corresponding to a day of the month of... March. I wrote loud book titles on 31 slips of paper, and assigned each to a door. Doors 1-8 doubled as March 25-31. And then I set myself some rules and some prizes. 

I had to open a door each day and start the book written there. I didn't have to finish it, but, in an effort not to fall behind, I did my best. When selecting the books, I went for a variety of genres and themes as well as a balance of audiobooks (majority) and physical books including a couple of Manga. The goal was to complete as many of the titles within the month as possible, with the prize being out of reach until the end. 

Here's how it went: I followed the rules. I planned the challenge far enough in advance that I had no idea which books where where in the calendar, so each day was a pleasant surprise. Audiobooks I generally finished within 12-36 hours of opening their door. Physical books took closer to a week apiece, but they were spread out, so it worked. I ended the month with only two books incomplete, so I call that win.

Did the yelling stop? No, because I had much more than 30 books yelling at me, but the yelling is significantly diminished, which is all I could hope for. I expect it'll be a couple more months until I've really got it under control and peaceful, but I'm really happy with how much the challenge pushed me to accomplish. Here are the some stats:

I finished the Death Note series (two volumes), the Shatter Me series (three books, two novellas), the Rex Nihilo series (three books, will talk about in an upcoming post), the Edge Chronicles (two books), and a couple more at one book apiece. I caught up on five more series that haven't been fully published yet including Gilead (Question for all of you who read and adored Gilead, did you go on to read Home, Lila, and Jack? If so what did you think? I need someone to talk to about this).

I also read five sequels, getting myself closer to finishing up some more series (can you tell I had waaaay too many series going?) and nine one-offs including a little nonfiction. I want to stress again here, if you ever do a challenge like this you will need the variety. Too much of the same theme, genre, tone, character type, format, book length, etc. is likely to burn you out. 

Anyway, I finished, and I got to open my prize yesterday (which I ordered mid-month and left in the boxes). The prize was books, which in hindsight was a bit counterproductive. It probably should have been candles. Or yarn. But I did pick books that wouldn't add to the negative noise: continuations of series I've already committed to, and a couple I read from the library that I knew I wanted to own. 

So that's it! A fun, productive reading month. What about you? Do you like having lots of unread books on your shelf? Do you do reading challenges or marathons? Do you get yourself into multiple series at once? Does it ever feel like drowning? Let me know!

Coming Up Next: Sci-fi that Parodies Itself: Rex Nihilo, Red Shirts and More

 

11 Books that Intimidate Me

On January 2nd, I posted on this blog for the first time after a lonnng hiatus. In that post, I asked if there were any topics y'all were personally interested in seeing, and two of you made suggestions in the Facebook comments: Danielle and Philip. I took up Danielle's idea in the very next post, but I have conveniently ignored Philip's until now, and here's why:

Philip, essentially, challenged me to tell you what books (or types/genres of books) I find intimidating and why...and then read those books and tell you if that feeling was warranted. So I figured this was a two-post type of endeavor. In this one, I'll tell you about 11 books that intimidate me and why. And then, at some unspecified time I will *mumbles* read those books so I can report back. 

Here are the books:

1. The Final Empire, Mistborn #1 by Brandon Sanderson

I find this book intimidating for really basic and boring reasons. It's quite thick. It's the first in a trilogy of equally thick books. And then there's another trilogy. And then there's another series with even thicker books. And then a smattering of standalones and novellas, all set in the Cosmere univere. It's not that I'm worried I'm not going to like it. I'm fairly certain I'm going to love it, and I'm going to want to read it all, and it's going to take over my reading life, and I'm just not sure when I'm going to feel ready for that. 

2. The Wise Man's Fear, Kingkiller #2 by Patrick Rothfuss

I'm also intimidated by this one for basic and boring reasons. It's over 1000 pages. The first book in this series was so engaging, I found myself in constant anxiety for Kvothe, which is something that's difficult to sign up for again. I've seen mixed reviews for this one in particular, and the third in the series isn't out yet, though it's been years and years in the works. It feels like a lot of uncertainty to take on, and I've tried twice in the past year and gotten only about 20 pages further each time.

3. Artemis by Andy Weir

I really shouldn't find this book intimidating. It is not long. The text is a bit small, which I find unappealing, but that shouldn't matter, considering the fact that Andy Weir's first book, The Martian is one of my favorites of all time. And honestly, I think that's the problem. The Martian was such an incredible experience both times I read it, I feel as if I'm nearly guaranteed to be a least a little disappointed, which is just not the emotion I want going into a read. And it's probably a little more about the small type than I think it is. I hate small type. Makes me feel like I'm bogged down and not progressing through my book. 

4. Universal Harvester by John Darnielle

John Darnielle has written several books, and they all intimidate me fairly equally, but this one I actually took out of the library and then returned without reading a word. I read John's first book, Wolf in White Van, and Wolf in White Van, like The Martian, is one of my favorite books of all time, but I haven't read it twice. I've read it four times. It's incredible, and I honestly don't think a human can produce something that incredible more than once in a lifetime, so again, nearly guaranteed disappointment. Wolf in White Van was also a difficult story with heavy themes, and I have no reason to believe this one won't be too. I'm just scared of it, okay?

5. Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

Anna Karenina is a tragedy, and I struggle to accept tragedies. I struggle to accept heartbreak in my entertainment without the consolation of a happy ending. And it's not as if I don't know what I'm getting into with Tolstoy. It's one thing to read a book you know will break your heart, and it's another to read a book that will break your heart in a familiar sort of way. 

It took me a year to read War and Peace. I read it off and on and slowly, looking up a lot of the French as I went, and by the end I felt as if I really knew the characters, and I really knew the life they lived and the bad decisions they'd made and the things that happened to them that were out of their control. The whole thing was mundane and happy and sad and good and awful. It broke my heart in that mundane way that real life breaks your heart sometimes. I finished War and Peace eight years ago, and I still feel it this way, and War and Peace isn't even a tragedy. I truly don't know what an actual tragedy by Tolstoy would do to me.

But. Lemony Snicket makes a very big deal of Anna Karenina in A Series of Unfortunate Events #10: The Slippery Slope, which obviously means I must read it and soon if I wish to remain a respectable member of the VFD, on the right side of the schism, and all that.

6. The Plague by Albert Camus

In college there were many intimidating professors, but arguably none so intimidating as Dr. Mitchell. At PHC, one does not simply get sick and skip class. You e-mail your professor directly and inform them that you are at death's door. So when I caught the flu that was going around campus, I e-mailed Dr. Mitchell, subject line: The Plague. 

He responded informing me that he had been very excited before opening the e-mail, having assumed I had picked up Camus for a little light reading and now wished to discuss all the burning existential questions with which I had undoubtedly been left. Dr. Mitchell was significantly less pleased to find I was simply not coming to class and proceeded to inform me that I Should read the book, and No he would not be giving extra credit. It's been on my list ever since. 

This book looks. Delightful. I mean just look at it. The cover. The title. Yuck. But. I've been thinking lately that reading it now, in the context of COVID-19, could be particularly interesting. I just haven't talked myself into it yet. 

7. Recursion by Blake Crouch

I really like science fiction, but I don't read much of it, which is a phenomenon in my reading that I do not understand. Recursion caught my attention when it won the 2019 Goodreads award for science fiction. Here's a bit of the summary: 

"At once a relentless pageturner and an intricate science-fiction puzzlebox about time, identity, and memory, Recursion is a thriller as only Blake Crouch could imagine it—and his most ambitious, mind-boggling, irresistible work to date." 

So um. Yes. I think this sums up why hard sci-fi intimidates me. What if. I am not. Smart enough for it?

8. Annihilation, Southern Reach #1 by Jeff VanderMeer

I would be similarly worried I'm not smart enough for the Southern Reach trilogy, but I have heard rumors that no one completely understands this story, and that is its charm. I've heard it's very weird. I'm worried it might be too weird for me. Not that I don't like weird, but I don't tend to like weird that defies understanding. I don't tend to enjoy chaos. I have no actual idea if this story is chaotic because no one I know who's read it has been able to describe it to me, and that's intimidating

9. Patient Zero, Joe Ledger #1 by Jonathan Maberry

Oh dear. Okay. My boss keeps telling me I absolutely must read this book and then, you know, hopefully the entire Joe Ledger series. Every once in a while he checks in and asks me why I haven't read it yet, and the answer is: It Feels Like There's A Lot of Pressure Here For Me To Not Just Like This Book But Love It. 

I could be wrong, but I don't think I've read a single adult action novel in my life. I'm probably wrong, but I can't recall any at the moment. I honestly don't know if it's a genre I'm into. This one is about zombies, and I do love a good zombie story, so I'll probably love it. I'm sure I'll love it. I'm definitely telling my boss I loved it. 

10. Safety Maid: Nancy Rose by William Wire

I'm not sure if intimidated is the right way to describe how I feel about this book or if mildly horrified would be more accurate. Why do I own I book I feel this way about? Ummmm. Well you see. My sister and I have this tradition. We give each other one self-published book each Christmas, but not just any self-published book, and certainly not one we think will be GOOD. No. We look for something extraordinarily bad. Last year I gave Liz a book called Harry Styles and the New York Apocalypse, and she gave me an annotated edition of Belinda Blinked #1 (if you know, you know). This year I gave her a work of "nonfiction" on QAnon (and how it's totally true), and she gave me Safety Maid: Nancy Rose. Thanks, Liz. 

11. A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken, with letters from C.S. Lewis.

I have read this book before. A long time ago. I think I was 17. My memories of it are somehow connected with listening to Taylor Swift's album Fearless for the first time. It's a love story. A true one. One that C.S. Lewis was involved with both before and after Mrs. Vanauken died. 

I remember deciding that this was the absolute standard in Love and Marriage. If I couldn't have this, I didn't want anything. Preferably minus the premature death of my one true love. The story was equal parts euphoric and horribly sad, and I really want to reread it, but I really want to reread it the way I read it the first time. I don't want to read it differently. I'm hoping my real life experience of true love will validate/mature/increase my experience of the book as opposed to dimming it in any way. But I'm scared.

I am, if you haven't noticed, frequently demotivated by my fear. And that's unfortunate. There's a lot about my life that I think would be better if I weren't so scared all the time of so many things. So, Philip. I'm going to read these books. And it'll probably take a while, I'm not going to lie to you. And at some point. I will come back and talk about them again. And I'm hoping that post will be rather  victorious. 

Until then readers, tell me what you think. Have you read any of these? Think I'm being silly? Or are you scared of them too? What books intimidate you and why?

Up next: I Invented and Completed an Advent Calendar Reading Challenge. In March. 

Cleaning House Postscript: Waste and Wishlists

 Hey friends! Thank you to everyone who stayed with me for the whole Cleaning House series. It's been really fun. That said, I'm excited to get back to bookish content next weekend, but there's just a couple things I want to share before we're quite done. There are two subjects I wanted to talk about in the series, but couldn't find a good way to fold them into any of the three parts. 

The first and biggest topic is Waste. I got rid of a lot of things on this little journey, and it naturally forced me to think a lot about waste: my own wastefulness, and waste in general. The second topic I want to hit is how I'm handling wants and needs as they arise now, in light of what I've been learning--using a Wishlist Hunger Games system in conjunction with my budget. 

Waste

Let me ask you a question: if you buy an item and then, at some later point, you throw it away before using it up or wearing it out, when was the waste committed? Was it A. When you threw it out or B. When you didn't use it before you threw it out or C. When you bought it. 

Throwing away things I paid for, when I know I've not gotten my money's worth out of them, hurts. That's something I feel pretty keenly, yet at the same time, I've been pretty vicious about getting rid of stuff that's just clogging and cluttering my house and life. How can I reconcile those two things?

Easily, and here's why. The answer is never A. Not unless you're throwing away something you consistently use that's not worn out that you will just have to buy over again. Which would be really silly. Not-rich people don't do that. No, you did not waste the thing when you threw it away, you threw it away because it was already wasted. 

The answer is B. or C., and it's usually not B. It's only B. if you bought something with an expiration date and then, even though you could have and would have used it,  you just didn't. Like when I buy special dairy-free cheese and then, in an attempt to savor it, use it so slowly that the last couple slices mold. That is stupid, and I need to stop doing that. Or you bought something for a purpose, but then something changed in your life like you moved to a place with no lawn and don't need your lawnmower anymore. 

Situations in which the waste is happening at point B. often require attention and thought and perhaps a giant spreadsheet like the one I made to deal with my grocery problem that I talked about last week, but ultimately they shouldn't be hard to fix...unless they're secretly situations where the waste is happening at point A., the point of purchase, when you buy and bring home something you have no business thinking you're going to use, at least not in that quantity. 

I could buy veggies from Costco and "save money" on the unit price, but Jon and I are only two people, one of whom is out of the house and unable to take food with him 50% of the time. If I buy a flat of tomatoes, I won't have avoidable waste happening between A. and C. I will have waste that was guaranteed from the moment of purchase.

And that is the case with most things we waste that aren't food and don't expire. When I buy clothing that doesn't fit quite right or doesn't match anything else in my closet or doesn't match my personality or doesn't match my actual lifestyle, that's a guaranteed waste from the moment of purchase. I probably don't know that at the time. I never buy something thinking: I'm going to throw this away in three months, but if, at point C. I take note of why the waste is happening and take note of the lesson, then I can start to avoid point A. completely. 

And when I do make mistakes, it's best if I admit it right away, instead of letting stuff sit and get old and dusty. The sooner I admit my error, the sooner I can donate it and add value to someone else's life who will be able to help the item fulfill its purpose. 

If you catch yourself saying things like: I know I never use this, but I just don't want to waste it, stop. You have wasted it! You've already wasted it. It's wasted. You're not going to fix that by keeping it around longer continually wasting not just it, but also your space. Let it go. Let the guilt of it go out of your life, and hopefully, someone somewhere will pick it up from the thrift shop you donated it to and give it a whole new life. They can unwaste it. You can't. Forgive yourself and move on. 

Wishlists

We all know impulse buying leads to waste: of both money and a majority of the things we impulse buy. This is not a secret. The commonly-given advice on the subject is to never buy an item you didn't already know you wanted walking into that store. 

"I've been wanting this," or "I've been looking for one of these," was my most common excuses for not-impulse-buying something. But then I'd get home and realize at some later point that, while I had been wanting that item, I had been wanting or needing something else more that I just didn't think about in the moment. This is a common problem for me in stores: all the visual input, combined with audio elements and all the humans around, compounded by the dampening effect of mask-wearing, creates confusion and overwhelm that commonly leads me to purchasing mistakes.  

So here's what I've found works for me: 

First, at the beginning of the month, I budget a certain amount to use for books, a certain amount to use for clothes, and a certain amount to use for other things. The budgeted amounts aren't the same every month, and sometimes I budget zero for clothes or books, it just depends.

Separately from my budget, I keep wishlists in each category: books, clothes, and other. 

Then I play Wishlist Hunger Games. 

Actually, I'm always playing Wishlist Hunger Games whether or not I have budget that month for that category. Here's how it goes: if I think of something I want, I put it on the list. And then I check the list frequently. I measure each thing against the other things on the list, and when I have a bit of money to spend on that list, only the things I want most or need most make the cut. 

So that works well in the way that you'd expect, but something else happens too, especially when I'm checking, updating, and evaluating my list often: things just naturally fall off or change. When I'm measuring several wants and needs against each other, each really comes into perspective. After not making the cut once or twice, sometimes I realize I don't really want that item after all. Or I want something similar but different that will add more value or serve more functions. 

This method is working really well for me. I know I'm pretty weird, so who knows if it would work for you, but if you try it, let me know! Or, if you have a different method, I'd love to hear about that too.

And that's it! Leave a comment on Waste or Wishlists or literally anything. I love to hear from you all. Up next: 

[TBD #] Books that Intimidate Me and Why

See you then!

Cleaning House Part Three: A Fridge and Pantry Overhaul and The Grocery Spreadsheet

When you move into a new house and into a new kitchen, you put all your kitchen things and pantry items in the drawers and cupboards you Think will work best. But of course you never know quite how something will work out until you try it, but at that point, inertia is not on your side. Things have a place. There is a status quo, and it takes time and energy to make changes.

When we moved into the Hillsboro house in early 2020, I did my best to put things in the best places, but I didn't get it right.  Did I fix it as soon as I started to note the friction in my kitchen flow? Nope. It took me a full year to finally get up the nerve to take every single thing out of the cabinets and try again. 

And honestly, it wasn't that hard. After a year of doing it wrong, it was pretty clear where each thing made sense to go. The harder part was space. I don't have as much kitchen space as I'd prefer. Pantry items compete for space with kitchen tools and implements, so for me, space comes at a premium and every item has got to pay its rent. It has to be useful more than once or twice a year, and it generally has to have more than one function unless that function is a super functional function. You know?

It took me a ridiculously long time to realize you can baste just as easily with a spoon as with a baster. In fact, there are very few kitchen tasks you really neeeeeed more than a fork, a spoon, and a sharp knife to accomplish. I'm not saying that's all I have in my kitchen. I do prefer using a whisk to a fork, but I did finally admit that a potato masher is just not worth the hassle. I prefer my potatoes creamed with a hand mixer anyway. It is a truth, not nearly acknowledged enough that a vast number of things advertised to make life easier really only make life more complicated. 

Here's what I had to remind myself (and if you think this is a repeat of some stuff I've said in previous posts, you're right): you don't have to keep something just because it was a gift. People constantly give mugs as gifts. You can get rid of the ones you don't use. It's okay. Me, I break mugs so regularly, that I almost never have to worry about this.

If you're not really into cooking, than having a a bazillion electric tools and schmancy implements doesn't make a lot of sense. And don't forget to get rid of things when a new, better thing makes the old one obsolete (I got rid of my slow cooker as soon as I got a pressure cooker with a slow cook setting, etc.). 

And above all: don't buy it or keep it if it only fits the person/cook you wish you were, not the cook you are or have any actual plan to become.

This goes for food too. How many of us buy aspirationally, thinking we're going to eat healthy if we just buy fresh veggies, but in reality, those veggies only come to our fridges to die?

And speaking of going to the fridge to die...

My main fridge problem, I discovered with the help of Youtube, was putting my veggies in the crisper drawers. They'd be out of sight, out of mind, and I'd just forget they were there. So instead of doing that, I put things in the crisper drawers that I'm never going to forget I have, like beer, and bought a couple clear, covered bins for veggies to sit eye-level in the fridge. Here's a link to those bins. They're specifically designed to extend veggie life, and nothing I put in those bins in the last few months has bypassed my mouth for the trash can. 

I also got a big egg holder bin with a cover so I can stack stuff on top of my eggs without squishing them. It's the best. I'm not for all sorts of bins and dividers in fridges and cupboards, but these couple items were Exactly what my little fridge needed to function optimally. There's a lot more space to see things and move them around now, thanks both to the reorganization and also to THE SPREADSHEET.

I had never even considered making a spreadsheet for groceries before both my mother-in-law and sister-in-law started talking about it over a holiday dinner. I grew up meal planning. We'd plan the meals and determine from the plan what groceries we needed for the week, but with Jon's crazy work schedule, meal planning just doesn't work for me anymore, and neither does shopping every week.

What works best in my house is shopping only a couple times a month (including once at Costco!) and keeping all the basics consistently on hand so that I can make any of our standard and favorite meals at anytime. 

The spreadsheet contains every single item I like to keep in the house, from ground beef to toilet paper, arranged by shelf-stability. The lists for more perishable items are shorter and more flexible. Most items on the sheet are specific like "jasmine rice" but others are broader to ensure variety like, "easy freezer meal" or "fish". I always keep Romaine lettuce, tomatoes and onions in the house because they all keep reasonably well and are quite versatile, but I won't buy another veggie unless I have a specific plan for it. The same goes for any other part of the spreadsheet. 

I can go outside of my spreadsheet all I want as long as I have a specific plan, and I often do, but that's the whole point. I don't have to have a plan. The spreadsheet ensures I will always have what I need in the house to make a wide variety of meals at any given time, but not so much of anything perishable that I ever have to throw stuff away. It also ensures that I don't get overwhelmed in the grocery store trying to make choices from the thousands and thousands of options. Wins all around.

Anyway, reader. That's what's been going on in my now highly-functional,  yet pedestrian kitchen. I am not even remotely confident this post will be helpful or even entertaining, so, as always, your feedback is much appreciated. 

Next Up: Cleaning House Postscript: Waste and Wishlists

and then back to bookish content. I've missed it. 

Cleaning House, Part Two: My Minimal Wardrobe

 

Dear readers, it has been a couple weeks, but I'm back. As promised, today's post is about my wardrobe and how my recent venture into minimalism has changed the way I approach clothes. Now, I'm not going to, for one second, pretend I'm a stylish person who has it together when it comes to dressing. I'm not, and I don't. This post is just about where I was, where I am, and where I'm going with my closet.

As you know, all this started when I binge-watched Tidying Up with Marie Kondo on Netflix back in December. Her first step to tidying was taking all your clothing out of your closet, piling them up, asking yourself, "Does this spark joy?" and letting things go if they didn't. 

And that's where I ran into my first problem. Very little of my clothing sparked joy, and I quickly realized that if I threw away everything I felt nothing about, I'd have nothing to wear. I'd been dressing on autopilot every morning for years, leaning into safe pieces and colors and combinations, not interested in what anyone thought, least of all myself. I think the last time I worried even a little bit about what I wore was when I was going to PHC and working to comply with a pretty strict dress code and an unspoken professional standard, but as soon as I graduated, all that went out the window real fast. 

I'm not really into putting a lot of effort into dressing. Clothing is not a vector in which I've ever really felt comfortable "expressing myself," and the more I have tried in the past to dress well by some indefinable standard, the more stressed and insecure I've become about it. The thing is, I really value being able to roll out of bed, dress, and be on the road in 15 minutes flat, and I prefer to be both comfortable and nondescript both at work and around town. That's just who I am, and I'm not going to put myself down about it anymore.

On top of all that, I have a problem with stores. I get really anxious with all the bright lights and visual clutter and choices, and downright panicky inside dressing rooms. It's been common for me in the past to buy something that that didn't really work just because I'd tried on three things already, and I just needed it to be over. Let me know in the comments if this happens for you too. 

A couple years ago, I thought that I had solved my store problem by using Stich Fix, which, if you don't know, is one of those subscription services that ships five pieces to you a month (or however often), chosen by a stylist who's never seen or met you. And honestly that worked fine for a while. I really enjoyed the service, and I got quite a few good pieces through it. The problem was that it lulled me into even more passivity about my wardrobe than I was already in. The result was what I just described: a wardrobe full of things I felt literally nothing about because I put exactly no effort into deciding what I wanted, going out, and choosing them over other options. 

By the time I finished my many rounds of decluttering my home and life, I had still barely touched my wardrobe. I could see the problem. I could admit that there was a problem. But I couldn't name it and I certainly didn't see my way to solving it. Enter Youtube. The Youtube algorithm is lovely. It does a pretty stellar job of giving you not just more of the content you've already expressed interest in (by liking and subscribing) but also similar content you didn't even know you needed.

Along with all the minimalism content I was enjoying, Youtube started recommending me stuff about capsule wardrobes and Project 333. If you don't know, a capsule wardrobe is an intentionally smaller version of your closet. You take out a limited number of pieces and wear only those for the next season, or whatever period of time you choose. Project 333 is minimalist capsule wardrobe challenge to take only 33 pieces out of your wardrobe (not including underwear, activewear, sleepwear, and loungewear) and only wearing those pieces (including jewelry, shoes, bags, and outerwear) for 3 months. 

The point of capsule wardrobes and Project 333 is to simplify your life and force you to be intentional about choosing pieces of clothing that mix well together. No matter how many clothes we own, we only have room in our brains to process a limited number of pieces, so we either spend a lonnng time in the morning, stressing over a unique outfit, or we accidently default to a smaller portion of our wardrobes: our favorites and our basics. People who have a love and passion for fashion tend to have a little more room in their heads for this stuff, but I am not those people, and you probably aren't either. 

The idea of a capsule wardrobe really got me thinking. I didn't like the idea of setting aside some of my clothes for months, but I did like the idea of owning a limited number of pieces and forcing myself to be intentional enough about choosing those pieces that it would work. I watched a lot of Youtube videos about what kinds of pieces people were putting into their Project 333 capsules. How many pairs of jeans? How many tops? How many shoes? What colors? Exactly how mixable do the pieces need to be? And then I made a spreadsheet. 

My spreadsheet is still in flux as I'm still in the process of determining what exactly I do and do not need, but it currently has 45 items on it (not including underwear and accessories). It's not a list of every piece I own; it's a list of every type of piece I either own, or think I should own: 2 Pairs Dark Wash Jeans, 1 Pair Black Jeans, 1 Pair Light Wash Jeans, etc. It's a comprehensive list of specific categories I need to keep filled. If a category is filled, and I like the piece that's filling it, there's no reason I should purchase a piece of the same category just because I see it in a store and it's cute. Likewise, if I go to the store looking to fill the category of "light-colored cardigan" I don't get to leave the store with a dark-colored cardigan, no matter how tempting it might be. 

Annnnnnnnd this is where I stalled out again a couple weeks ago. I had my spreadsheet and I had my wardrobe paired down to just what I needed whether I liked what was there or not, but I just. didn't. know. how to move forward. I didn't want to start shopping only to make the same mistakes all over again. I realized I didn't even know what I liked when it came to clothing. It had been so long, and I had changed so much since I'd last made completely independent, non-autopilot choices on the subject. This is when I started reading The Curated Closet by Anuschka Rees. I had initially planned to skim it for tips and tricks, but ended up reading it closely and taking notes instead.

Rees talks a lot about personal style and what it actually means to be yourself in what you wear. The book contains many practical, active exercises to figure out what you want your closet to be, what you need it to be, and how to get there, which is 100%, all of the above, exactly what I needed, and I would recommend this book to literally anyone. Even male people. It's really good. 

It helped me finally realize that my Jeans, Top, Cardigan "uniform" is totally okay and actually super efficient as long as I like it (which I do), that my color palette is lacking because I got myself in a rut, but I can totally fix that, that the ratios of my wardrobe should match the ratios of my real life (30% Relaxed-Sporty, 60% Casual-Smart Casual, and 10% Business Casual-Special Occasion), and that it is both possible and very important to walk into a store with a very, Very specific list and not compromise on it at all. 

And so much more. Rees stresses the importance of doing the research on what you personally like and what you don't like, what works on your body and what doesn't, and what your personal, unique style is in one sentence. Mine is "cozy librarian with a secret double life (presumably as a spy)." She talks about how to judge the quality of garments, how to make the pieces of your wardrobe work together efficiently and how to identify and fix laundry bottlenecks. She talks about the difference between basics, key pieces, and statement pieces, and neutral colors, main colors, and accent colors, and above all, the difference between building a wardrobe for the person you wish you were with the life you wish you had and building one for you. The actual you. The one who has to wear it. 

So as you can see, reader, I've started on a journey here that's not even a little bit done, but I am so excited. I am way more excited about my little closet than I have been for years and way more confident than I ever was about what I like to wear and why. The big thing I keep coming back to is just the desire to have less, but make it work better. I'll keep you posted.

Thanks for reading. See you next week! Don't forget to leave a comment! 

Cleaning House, Part One: Tidying Up with Marie Kondo and Minimalism

     I didn't want to use a stock photo of someone else's super-clean, chic house for this post, so here's a pic of my cat, Bean, the sentient beanie baby, formerly known as Cleopatra, formerly formerly known as "something ridiculous, like Snowball"-Jon. 

     I've been excited to write this post from the minute my Marie Kondo/Minimalism obsession began back in mid-December, but I wanted to let everything more or less play out before giving you something partial or misleading. Now that my brain has moved on to other obsessions (Knitting and Don't Starve: Shipwrecked), I can finally be reasonably sure that the changes I implemented survived the (inevitable) death of the obsession. I can honestly tell you that I made permanent changes, that those changes are working, and that my life is improved and improving as a result. 

    This whole tidying up my house and life endeavor made me realize a bunch of things about how my mind works and what a positive force my obsessive personality can be, but I'll get into that some other time. Suffice it to say that what I'm about to share with you is a string of major, all-consuming obsessions that began in mid-December and became habits and intentions that folded nicely into my regular, more stable life, toward the end of January. 

    Everything started with the Netflix show: Tidying Up with Marie Kondo. I don't even know why I started it. I don't remember thinking: I'm going to watch this and then I'm going to majorly overhaul my life. I'd just heard Marie's name around and was curious. Our house wasn't particularly cluttered by any standard. It's a small place: kitchen and living area separated only by a countertop, bathroom just large enough for a tub, and two bedrooms, one of which we've turned into a "study" or perhaps a "library" depending on which of us you ask. Storage space is scarce, particularly when it comes to closets and cabinets, and I chalked up any feeling of crowdedness or clutteredness to the smallness of the space as opposed to considering that perhaps we had some stuff we didn't exactly need. 

    Immediately after finishing the show (one season), I picked up Marie's book The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up to be sure I understood her tidying philosophy and the KonMarie method that she's developed. I also started watching YouTube videos of people using her method. I tried her laundry-folding techniques immediately, before I even started decluttering, and I highly, highly recommend that. It creates way more space in your drawers and makes everything easier to find.

    The KonMarie method isn't about what you get rid of, it's what you keep and where and how and why you keep it. It's also the manner in which you determine what you want to keep. I subscribe to this method almost 100%. Marie is really strict about the method itself but really flexible when it comes to ultimate outcome. She recognizes that people are different, and that there's no set amount of books or clothes or things that work best for everyone. If an item "sparks joy" for you, then you keep it, even if that decision doesn't make sense to anyone else. 

    If you do things Marie's way you do not, under any circumstances, tidy room by room or zone by zone. You do not spread the process out over a month. You set aside a week and tackle all of your things type by type. Clothes first, then books, then papers, then komono (all your other stuff, by category: kitchen implements, electronics, cleaning supplies, etc.), and save anything sentimental for last. 

    You take everything out of where it is and evaluate it with like things in a neutral area. This puts the inertia of getting rid of things on your side. It forces you to be intentional about what you keep. This method also ensures that you evaluate everything in the context of like things, not in the context of wherever it's been living, because that may or may not be the place where it should live.

     Everything you get rid of (trash or donate or give away or sell), you thank. I thought that was silly at first, but it just releases you from any emotions you have tied to the item and any guilt you feel in getting rid of it. It helps you let go. Getting rid of things creates space for things you've crowded out: things you love, but you aren't using because you can't find them or they're just out of sight, out of mind. And sometimes it's not just physical things you've crowded out, but more than that.

    Let me give you an example: I wasn't using my cookbooks because I was keeping them in the library instead of in the kitchen. I didn't have a bookshelf in the kitchen/living area, which was the problem. But I wanted to use my cookbooks. They used to give me a lot of joy in discovering new things to create. The same was true for my knitting supplies and patterns. It was all out of sight out of mind in a bin high up in my closet. I didn't have anywhere more accessible to keep it, so I just didn't knit. Going through my books with a fine-toothed comb and donating everything I didn't see myself rereading or sharing with someone, created space. Suddenly I had freed up a small shelf that could go live in the kitchen/living area to hold cookbooks and reference books, knitting patterns and my vase of knitting needles, putting everything right in my daily line of sight. The shelf has also become the home of the bread maker, my tea cups, and that really beautiful turquoise punch bowl we got as a wedding present. It looks really good, and now I use my cookbooks and I knit.

   Only after you're done going through all the rest of your stuff, does Marie recommend tackling your sentimental items. Of all her advice, I think this is what had the most impact on me. She says that sentimental items should absolutely have a place in your life, but that we often keep items we've categorized as "sentimental" not because they bring us joy, but because we are tied to them in some way and feel an obligation to them. These bindings clog up both our regular lives and our emotional lives. 

    I was hanging on to gifts from old friends, gifts from people who meant the world to me and would never have stopped meaning the world to me if I hadn't stopped meaning anything to them. Those items were "sentimental" but they also kept me tied to memories that made me sad. I got rid of them. I got rid of anything I was keeping just out of a sense of obligation. I got rid of a whole bunch of sentimental items that didn't really mean as much to me as I told myself they did, and it just kind of made me feel free to move on with my life. 

   So that's the KonMarie method. I went through the house twice this way. Jon did his own items, and Marie is really strict about that. You do not decide for someone else whether their stuff is important to them or not. My first pass through the house, I just got rid of the obvious. The second time, I could see my way forward to what I wanted my life to look like, and it was suddenly much more clear what didn't belong in it. I got rid of far, far more than I imagined, and suddenly there was all this space in my life to breath and think clearly and see what I wanted to do next. 

   So I dove headfirst into a rabbit hole of minimalists on YouTube. Here are a few who had a significant impact on my final rounds of decluttering and the evolution my idea of how I wanted life to proceed in the decluttered space I'd created:

Natalie Bennett

The Minimal Mom

Sarah Therese

Gabe Bult

    And here's where it gets a little more individual. I think everyone should go through the KonMarie method with their homes. I don't think everyone should be a minimalist. Also minimalism means different things to different people. I'm not talking about minimalism as an aesthetic but minimalism as a lifestyle. The big principle is that everything you own has a purpose, and it's actively fulfilling its purpose. If it's not, it doesn't get to take up space in your life. 

    Jon and I are simple people with simple needs and simple tastes, so minimalism really works for us. We were practically there already, in theory if not in practice, before I even started the declutter. Listening to these voices on YouTube really firmed up what I was already thinking: Why would I follow someone else's standard of living when I know what I like and what works for me and it's just really simple? So I gave myself permission to set different rules based on what Jon and I wanted and what we knew would work because we know ourselves. 

    The minimalism rabbit hole led to a minimal wardrobe/Project 333/capsule wardrobe/personal style obsession that I'm still actively pursuing, albeit less obsessively. That led to a whole bunch of research on casual money management. Not so much the big stuff like investing and paying off debts (even though that's important), but the little stuff like not frittering away cash on clutter, not buying produce that's going to rot in your fridge, not buying clothes you won't end up loving: the little wastes that you don't really pay attention to week to week. 

    I made spreadsheets. I made two for groceries, (food and non-food), and one for clothing. I made a list of spending rules for myself with the twin goals of saving money and keeping the home in the state I'd brought it to. I started logging every single purchase in Every Dollar, as a way of keeping myself accountable to my own rules and intentions. It's been really good. Really, really good. 

    And there's a lot I'm still working on, tweaking, and researching. The initial tidying up opened a lot of doors in my mind. I remembered a lot of intentions I'd set for my my life back in highschool that I hadn't entirely followed through on. I remembered that I'm allowed to make changes to my norms and improve what's not working. I remembered that learned helplessness is stooopid. It was a relief.

And I'm going to finish with that. Thanks for reading!

You probably noticed this post has a "Part One" in the title. That's because I'm planning:

Cleaning House, Part Two: My Minimal Wardrobe, The Curated Closet, and What I've                    Always Gotten Wrong about Clothes

Cleaning House, Part Three: My Fridge/Pantry Overhaul and THE GROCERY SPREADSHEETS

      

And also:

        

Explaining my Obsessive Personality to You and Also Me

Let me know what you think. Have you seen Tidying Up? Did you try it out? I know the next few posts won't be about books. Is that okay? Excited to see your comments as usual! Bye!

January Wrap-Up: How Am I Doing With Those Resolutions?

 

Alright, lovely readers, January is pretty much over. Is it just me, or was January the longest month ever? It hasn't been a bad month for me at all, but the time just stretched out in such a strange way. Anyone else feeling that?

A lot happened for me this month. I turned 26. I cut my hair. I got a fresh prescription and new glasses. I started implementing a bunch of personal resolutions, spending rules, spreadsheets, etc. in my daily life. I'm excited tell you all about that in (probably) my next post. I got a new little kitty, who we originally named Cleo, but have begun calling "Bean" because she is Waaay too derpy for a regal name like Cleopatra. I began rehearsing for my role as Margaret in Jupiter Theater Company's upcoming production of Much Ado About Nothing.  I bought a car, which was super exciting. It's a gunmetal-grey 2018 Toyota Corolla, and it's the nicest thing I've ever owned. We're keeping my old 2007 Corolla until it dies, but we figured, better shop for a great deal now rather than scramble later when it inevitably dies on the side of the road.

Annd I finally got a new phone. For various reasons, I switched from an old iPhone 8 that had a 3-hour battery life at best, to a brand new, just released, Galaxy S21. That's right. I switched from Apple to Android. I never thought I would do that. I never thought I'd be buying a new model either, because that's usually a huge waste of money, but we were able to get the upgrade free. I'm really thankful for that. I'm really thankful for all the nice things that have come my way this month. 

So that's what's been going on in my life in general, but I wanted to take a moment to Not Actively Pretend like I didn't make a bunch of reading resolutions a month ago and check in on those intentions with you. Quick, place your bets. How do you think I'm doing?

 I'm going to hit them each one by one. 

1. I resolved to *only* read 200 books in 2021. And all I can say is I haven't exceeded that number yet, but I am ahead on my Goodreads goal so, I'm going to have to watch that. I do have a list of  21 books over 500 pages that I want to get to this year (and I've already read one), so I'm going to keep reaching for those whenever I get too far ahead, and hope that keeps me on track. 

2. I resolved to read fewer books under four stars. And I'm doing okay.  Of the 18 books I read (so far) this month, three were under four stars. One was three, one two, and one one*. And that last one really got to me. It started out a two, and I kept thinking it was going to get better but it Just Didn't, and I'm really mad at myself for not DNFing it after the first couple pages. I know better. I should not be wasting my time on bad books. Anyone else have this problem? You find it really hard to give up on a book? It's way easier for me if it's from the library--something I didn't pay for, but nearly impossible when I did. 

3. I resolved to get my 10 active series down to five active series. And right now I have 11, so I'm going in the wrong direction. But in my defense, that number grew because new books came out making inactive series active again. So it wasn't like I started anything new. Well I did. But it was only a little trilogy, and I'm halfway through the third book already, so leave me alone! And I Have been actively prioritizing the active series over other books, annnd I did finish one series. So there.

4. I resolved to read less YA. One-third of the books I read this month were YA. Sigh. Sigggghhhh,

5. I resolved to read more of the genres I'm intimidated by: Mystery/Thriller, Adult SFF, and Nonfiction, and I'm happy to report that I picked up one Thriller, one Adult Sci-fi, one Nonfiction, and one Mystery-Romance (which totally counts, I swear! Except that was the one I rated one star so...). As long as I'm working on what intimidates me a little bit each month, I'm okay with that. 

6. I resolved to go on a nearly-complete physical book-buying ban until I had read all 38 of the unread books on my shelf. I now have 34 books on that shelf. I read a few, donated a few, and got a few for my birthday, so I'm doing okay. 

7. And finally, I resolved to blog every weekend, and so far I Have Kept This Resolution, which even I am having trouble believing!!!

Overall, I'm happy with how I've done this month, and where I'm not happy, I can see what needs tweaking. The biggest thing is that reading books and buying books and thinking about books is not dominating my existence anymore, and that's good. That's what I needed. It's given me space to look at other areas of my life and work to make those better, which is, in turn, enriching my reading life. See how that works? 

Please don't get me wrong. Reading is a good thing. A very good thing, but there is such a thing as too much of a good thing, and that is what I had in 2019 and 2020. Too much. Of a good thing. And it took me a really long time to realize it, mostly because it's a pretty rare problem to have too much reading in your life. The opposite is a Much more common problem. But you have to judge your situation by your situation and your needs, not where other people are at and what other people need from their lives.

Right, readers? I challenge you to comment one good thing in your life that you have too much of. And I'll leave you with that this week.  

*For the curious, the book I rated one star was A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Mayhem by Manda Collins. For that book review and to generally keep up with my reading shenanigans friend me on Goodreads!

Tune in next week for my Tidying Up post: Oh Hey, I'm a Minimalist!