I read the most amazing book today. It’s called God’s Debris and it’s by Scott Adams, you know, the Dilbert guy. It only took me about an hour to read but it has certainly provoked much more than an hour’s worth of thought.

Debris reminds me of another book I read recently, Way of the Peaceful Warrior by Dan Millman. I don’t know if I’ve actually promoted many books thus far but I feel it’s important to share the titles of these two. I’m not saying you have to read these—they will change your life. Fear of Flying by Erica Jong is another one that might change your life. Or they all might make you really angry and wonder what the hell is wrong with people today.

I’m getting off point, finding it difficult to focus you understand. The point I’m trying to make here is that no one can tell you what will change your life or not. No one can tell you what will make you think. A Patrick Swayze (is that how you spell that?) movie might make you think for goodness’ sake, there is just no predicting these things. But these books—these are books that I’m almost willing to bet no two people have the same opinion of.

I suppose what interests me the most is that within their covers you see original human thought at work, or as original as human thought gets anyway. You see people willing to stretch what they think they know and smother themselves in what they know they don’t. It’s…intoxicating. To surround yourself with what you don’t know, acknowledge that you don’t know it, revel in not knowing it and then, slowly, painfully, try to claw your way out—that’s discovery. That’s worth doing.

Who cares about what we know? What we’ve already figured out? I can no more convince you of what I know than you could convince me I don’t know it. Knowledge is…illusory. Fickle, if you will. But there’s so much of it out there!

I use to complain that I wanted a handbook, a guide. I wanted to run away to a monastery and have the monks train me in the ways of wisdom and self. I knew there must be a secret cult somewhere with all the answers and if I asked enough questions I would find it, or they would find me.

There were many things wrong with this want (other than the obvious) but most importantly was the idea that anyone could teach me what I needed to know, and that the knowledge wasn’t already out there waiting to be harvested. It’s there; it’s all there. The human mind, when taken as a sum of every thought written down thus far, is a brilliant thing. Classics people. Literature. It’s all already there. But, you must be willing to work for it, and you must be willing to search for it. There’s a lot of drivel in the English cannon that passes for literature, believe me. And there are brilliant ideas off the beaten path. But how do you find them? How do you stumble across them?

Word of mouth helps, talking helps. Finding out what people read and why. I’ve given you three titles here, but I doubt they do much for many of you. These are my books you see. These are the books that changed me. They might not change you. But, the only what to know is to read them and that I cannot do for you.

I cannot share my knowledge, because my knowledge exists only in my reality and my reality is not your reality. I am, however, more than interested in discussing life, the universe, and everything. In particular I have some very pressing physics questions for any scientists out there. So, drop by if your in town. We’ll have tea and talk about books.

So I’ve finally figured out my obsession with trashy romances. Well, one reason among many anyway. Other than the fact that I am a hopeless romantic (and if you tell anyone I’ll kill you and eat you so as to leave no evidence) trashy romance novels don’t move me to do…well, anything.

When I finish a romance I don’t feel like I’ve been a part of something great—like I’ve just read a story that everybody simply must read. I’m entertained and rejuvenated (in the midst of the semester one needs to read something that doesn’t require much mental work on her part) but certainly not motivated.

Perhaps I should explain. I just read Fray, a graphic novel by Joss Whedon. Before I continue I must proclaim, “Damn you Joss Whedon!” There, I feel a little bit better. Anyway, the point of the story is that this is an amazing tale. Set in the future of the “slayer” world (think Buffy) it simply captivates the reader. It moves you. But, more importantly, I read it and I think “I can write like that. I can tell stories like this. I need to write like this. I need to get off my ass and make my mark.”

Yeah, don’t have that problem after reading a rousing rendition of girl meets completely unacceptable guy who, after much illicit sex, finally admits he loves her following a near death experience on her part, live happily ever after and have many babies. Oh, and said unacceptable guy (read bad-boy with heart of gold) is also loaded. In all the necessary areas. It’s a good time, but not exactly life changing.

So, do you read the stuff that teaches you, motivates you, moves you? Or do you stick with the trashy romances? I’m going to go with both, but I thought I would share my epiphany with you all. I mean, it’s always good to know why it is one behaves the way one does. The more you know about yourself the better off you are going to be. At least, that’s been my experience. I always seem to get heartburn when I repress too much.

My body hates me.

Hmm..so do I have anything of actual worth to impart to you all tonight? Absolutely not. I just wanted another excuse to talk about hot, rich, well-endowed guys. See, I really am shallow. It’s my cross to bear.

Well, I promised a friend I would discuss period poops but I’m not sure I’ve got that one in my right now (no pun intended). I can’t recall offhand if I have ever dedicated an episode to the wonders of menstruation, but I can’t believe I haven’t at some point. I know I’ve talked about cramps and mood swings—surely I’ve discussed the effects on the digestive track as well. If not well..it’s going to have to wait.

I haven’t read any news regarding the mess in the middle east at the moment—and not the Iraq mess, but the Israel/Lebanon mess. I, the advocate of awareness and political tectonics, have a distinct aversion to educating myself to what’s going on in the world. And the odd thing is, it isn’t because I don’t care, but rather I find myself caring too much. Every time I think about it I get a feeling of almost physical nausea.

The realist in me says to myself, “Self, buck up. You don’t get to ignore what’s going on because it’s ugly.”

But the soft side of says, “I’ll read the news tomorrow. It can’t possibly be real can it? Surely it’s not as bad as everyone’s making out.”

The problem seems to be that most of the world agrees with the soft side in thinking that it couldn’t possibly be as bad as all that and we should, therefore, go on with our silly lives. So I don’t think the answer is that lives stop in place and we all stand around feeling bad, but what is the answer? How should one behave when the world is falling apart?

I don’t have an answer. I guess I should go read the news, but I really don’t want to.