I think that there’s something ironic about thinking I’d left Kandel’s In Search of Memory at my grandmother’s on Friday when, in fact, it was in the trunk of my car the entire time. I only found it because I’d gone out to the car to get my camera, which … I’d forgotten that I’d left out there until I couldn’t find it elsewhere in the loft.

Yeah, so I’m amused even if you aren’t.

I’m only 90 pages in, but I’m really enjoying it so far: Kandel’s initial urge to become what he terms “an intellectual historian” certainly lends his retelling of his own journey into the science of mind [through studies first of psychoanalysis, then medicine, then molecular biology] and the same collective journey. I think Kandel spent a bit too much time fawning over Freud, but … well, Kandel has a Nobel and I’ve got a mortgage and a car note.

I hope to finish this book this month. I’m not as voracious as Kari is [mainly because i don't carve out time to read like she does], but she is making me want to read more. I’d like to average a book a month this year, which is something that I haven’t done since … well, since I started working at TBE. I don’t know that correlation implies causation here—I did also start having challenging classes at the same time, many of which sucked my will to read for pleasure right out the window—but there’s something to it.

Oh, it couldn’t be all the time I spend blogging and reading blogs. I used to do the sportswriting thing, and that sucked just as much of my time.