I always perform better with a goal, so for the past couple years I’ve set a reading goal. In 2013, I read 28 books. 2014: 43. 2015: 48. 2016: 70. Every year, I tried to set the bar higher to challenge myself even more. At the beginning of 2017, I’d already decided I wanted to read less because, well, life… In 2016 we purchased a house with my parents to flip (using this term loosely) and a new fixer upper for ourselves. I knew I couldn’t healthily stretch my reading any further, so I set my goal at 60 books for the year. Despite the foresight of adjusting the goal, I’m not even going to come close that. Normally this would mean stressing out about this arbitrary number and frantically trying to reach it. But not this year… I’ve realized reading less was a good thing.
My reading has gone up and up over the years, and I regularly consume more articles than almost anyone I know. It became a joke between me and Samantha that every time she brought up something she’d found online, I’d already seen it. For 3-4 years in a row, I was also a top consumer (meaning top 1-2% on the whole site) on Pocket which is a place to save articles for later reading. I’ve been in a ferocious consumption phase where I’m always striving to learn, and I’ve really enjoyed pushing myself to consume. There isn’t anything wrong with that, but at some point I realized I’d gotten off track.