Browsing Powell's Books

I was browsing Powell's books yesterday. I picked up a few books, wandered around, and put them back. I was finding it hard to feel inspired to read any of them. I had this untrue and hubris feeling that I had read everything there was to read. That there was no more new and valuable information to obtain from anyone.

But I don't know what I don't know. So maybe it's best to pick a random book and force myself to read it. But if I did that, it would result in endless romance novels. And if I'm gonna pick-and-choose which books I will accept as random, there doesn't seem much point to it.

I could take some subjects and study more deeply. I found a bunch of books on the history of the US Navy. They had awesome-looking ships crashing into waves on the cover, and they looked badass. I would feel like Theodore Roosevelt who locked himself away and studied the Navy until he produced a textbook on the subject. But the thought of me learning endless facts about war makes me feel old and sad.

I realized that I felt the urge to write. I've never been a writer, but it somehow felt like an out-breath from years of breathing-in while reading. And maybe brains can't accept too many new ideas without letting out a few.