Recently my abuse of books was made note of, namely by Howard, in relation to a copy of Geek Love we'd borrowed from his friends. Oops! I have a different philosophy around books. Unlike my possessive thirteen-year-old self, keeping the spine of a book pristine is no longer an important indicator of self-restraint and intelligence.

I bring whatever I'm reading everywhere I go, which means they are shoved into bags, slung over a shoulder, and often jostled while I'm biking. With my own books I mark my progress with a series of dog-eared pages, underlines, dashes, comments, and (infrequently) hearts. I love the physicality of books, and the interaction a reader has with it. I don't know that I'd ever really enjoy an e-reader, because I want to enact my life onto the book.

And still there's a part of myself that feels guilty, like I may be defacing a work of art, or making a note I will later find pathetic, immature, or silly.