Monday, September 16, 2002

I've been trying to better myself of late, stretching my interests into more challenging, adult areas. Given my strong pop-culture predilections, I don't know how successful I'm going to be.

Last night is an excellent example. As a civilized capstone to the weekend, I spent about an hour delving into Marcel Proust's masterpiece, Remembrance of Things Past. The first hundred pages of the book have been a bit of a chore, but I think it's finally hooking me. The pages flew quickly and satisfyingly by in this most recent session. To enhance the experience, I was listening to a Charlie Parker CD as I read. Cool stuff. I may just get into jazz yet.

The CD ended just as I reached a good stopping point in the book. Not yet tired, I looked for something else to occupy me for a while. There were so many choices. Should I get to those New Yorkers I've been meaning to check out? Peruse the Sunday op-ed pages? Maybe put a little classical on the radio while doing some dishes?

Of course not. Rather than any of those worthwhile pursuits, I flipped on the TiVo and watched an old episode of Superfriends. Not even the new Justice League I had sitting there; I could almost make a case for the worth of viewing that. Nope, just an old Superfriends that I've seen maybe a fifty times in the last twenty-five years.

What does this say about me? Am I charmingly off-beat? A hopeless manchild? Just plain goofy? I have an overwhelming feeling last night's activities indicate something profound about my personality. I just can't figure out what.

Ah well, that's enough navel-gazing for one day. I gotta go see if Superman and the gang are able to thwart the Legion of Doom's latest nefarious scheme.
Posted @ 1:07 PM


Am we talking to myselves?

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