Looking for a new place to live is an awfully existential activity. It forces you to think about your future, critically appraise the present, and take soulful looks at your past. It also forces you to think about all the shit you currently have and how much of that shit you actually need. In most cases this is a simple process of saving this and trashing that. But books are a whole different story.

I have hundreds and hundreds of books. About half are from being a student with a BA in English and an MA in religion and philosophy. The other half are personal reading. Between the two sets, there are certain books that are keepers without question. These are the types of books that formed you and shaped you, maybe even influenced your thoughts on "the big issues." I have my keepers - don't we all? - that I won't be selling to the second-hand store anytime soon. But what about the others? About 75% of my books fall into the "other" category. I've read them, probably liked them, and pefer to keep them in my library. But in an extreme case they're also the books I would be willing to part with if I absolutely had to. Now I'm sure there are book lovers out there cringing their near-sighted little faces right now. But let's face it folks, we have libraries for a reason - they hold numerous copies of all those books that are pretty good, but not worth buying for my own shelf. That, or they hold the books that I can't afford because books can be pricey little bastards and I'm not rich.

At some point, this all becomes an academic question. I'm going to try and keep as many of books as possible. And after I move I expect to have about 98% of what I started with. I may give away one or two, sell double copies back to bookstores or give them to friends, and trash a few more. But otherwise I plan to keep all the "little bastards" I can. Therein lies the dilemma: moving sucks, moving books sucks worse. You can never remember which books you put in which box. After you move you can never find the book you want so you end up with books everywhere which creates a huge mess further exacerbating any future book search. So, to avoid this dastardly problem, I am devising a shifty solution in which I order all my books into library-like genres exactly upon unpacking which will thereby make searching easier. Aha, you say, that sounds brilliant! I too am delighted by this plan and the ultimate meaning it will impart to my life by being in order.

But damnit if the prospect of ordering all my books isn't mind-boggling. I'll probably get caught up in what I have and start reading and never stop. And, really, who wants to spend hours putting books in order when you can spend hours reading them? I think I've stumbled upon some ontological existential categories here: people who would rather put books in order vs. people who would rather read them. Think about it. Everyone you know fits into one of these two categories. Whoa...!