Not being a very serious person is usually great. More fun. Fewer tedious conversations. The ability to laugh at yourself. And others. The uncanny ability to go out, have ridiculous conversations where bizarre tangent follows bizarre tangent, and wake up the next morning smiling at the stupidity, rather than blushing at the humiliation. Hilarity and mockery without consequence. Genius.
Only now there are consequences. Because, careless chat becomes my reading future. I am the reading equivalent of Yes Man – suggest it and I will bloody have to read it. It’s early days and that has already led me down some bizarre, but well-intentioned, alleys. I may not have read books I would have chosen for myself, but the people who chose them had my best intentions at heart. They wanted to challenge me, or better me. What I didn’t take into account is the January-ness of that seriousness. Right now people are making serious suggestions because they are sober and somber. Sobriety and other associated (read, boring) New Year’s resolutions lead to earnest, mind-expanding suggestions.
Alcohol, it turns out, leads to suggestions of Fifty Shades of Grey. I guess I can expect more of these kind of suggestions as the January-ness wears off, and my friends go back to not being very serious people. Unlike most years, I await February with a little trepidation.