I could have written these words. Like Hill, I am a bibliophile—one who loves and collects books. My books are friends. To have my friends around me is a comforting simple pleasure, a delight. I’m all for living with less—less clutter, less activity, less stress. Except when it comes to my books.

You’ll have to pry my books from my cold, dead hands.

In addition to my ever-growing pile of to-be-read (TBR) books, I have many shelves of books I’ve already read. They’re not valuable first editions, but they’re treasured and priceless to me. I cull them from time to time, but I take so much pleasure in my personal library that it would be painful to disperse it. (If you’d like a peek at my shelves, click here—I was part of Danielle’s Lost in the Stacks Home Edition feature at A Work in Progress.)

I don’t keep every book I buy—only ones I think I’ll reread at least once, books I’ll use for reference and/or inspiration, and books that were once important to me that I can’t quite give up yet.

Some of the books I own I’ve searched for over years, or stumbled upon serendipitously. Less than a handful are autographed by their authors, including a copy of the children’s classic Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day. Many years ago I heard the author, Judith Viorst, speak at my local library, and was completely tongue-tied when I asked her to sign my book afterwards. Just looking at that book reminds me of the entire experience of that night.

My books don’t have to be beautiful, but as I’ve gotten older (and my bookshelves more crowded), I’ve started being pickier about what they look like. It pained me that my second-hand copy of All Passion Spent had an unattractive cover illustration (but not enough for me to turn down the copy that became available on Paperback Swap). I covet the lovely dove-gray Persephone books, though I’ve yet to collect my first one. Perhaps looking for books I think are attractive will slow down the entire acquisition process!

I use books to boost my mood, and it’s comforting to have my favorites at my fingertips. There are certain books I reread frequently—not having them on hand might constitute an emotional crisis.

As William Giraldi writes in “Why We Need Physical Books”: “Across a collector’s bookshelves, upright and alert like uniformed sentinels, are segments of his personal history, segments that he needs to summon in order to ascertain himself fully, which is part of his motive for reading books in the first place—whatever else it is, a life with books is incentive to remember, and in remembering, understand.”

I start every day in my office, where I allow my eyes to play over the titles on my shelves while I drink my morning coffee. So many of the books I’ve kept have left a lasting mark on me, and sometimes I need to see them to remember. I need to pull them off the shelf and flip through them, letting them transport and transform me for a second time. What could be more of a simple pleasure than that?

Introduction by Ted Kooser: A poem whose subject needs no introduction! Melissa Balmain lives in New York State, and her most recent book is Walking in on People, from Able Muse Press.

Nightmare

Your TV cable’s on the fritz.

Your Xbox is corroded.

Your iPod sits in useless bits.

Your Game Boy just imploded.

Your cell phone? Static’s off the scale.

Your land line? Disconnected.

You’ve got no mail—E, junk or snail.

Your hard drive is infected.

So here you idle, dumb and blue,

with children, spouse and mother—

and wish you knew what people do

to entertain each other.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2014 by Melissa Balmain, “Nightmare,” from Walking in on People, (Able Muse Press, 2014). Poem reprinted by permission of Melissa Balmain and Able Muse Press. Introduction copyright ©2015 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

No matter how old you are, every summer needs a little bit of silliness, don’t you think? Back in May, I shared photos that my cat might have posted if she had an Instagram account. Well, it’s a Friday in August (need I say more?) and I’ve had a busy week, so today I’ll turn the blog over to Tank and his (imaginary) Instagram account:

Happy Friday!

“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.”

—John Lubbock, The Use of Life

It’s been raining here for what feels like forever, but is really only about two weeks. But still. This is the Sunshine State, not the I-Haven’t-Seen-the-Sun-in-Days State. Everything is wet. Fortunately, we have no flooding in my neighborhood, but there are streets closed in Tampa and elsewhere because of the rising water. All I want to do is curl up under a blanket and read or watch a movie (and snack)—I have to force myself to get my work done. I miss the sunshine, and the energy I get from it.

And to make things worse, my iTunes shuffle has been playing rain-related songs this morning! It started with Neil Sedaka’s “Laughter in the Rain,” and moved on to Sara Bareilles’ “Let the Rain.” So out of curiosity I checked my song list to see what other songs I had that were related to rain. I came up with “It’s Raining Men,” by The Weather Girls, “Here Comes the Rain” (The Mavericks), “Here Comes the Rain Again” (Eurythmics), and “Africa”—as in “I miss the rains down in…” (Toto). On a brighter note, I also have “Here Comes the Sun”  (The Beatles), and “Chasing the Sun,” (Sara Bareilles again). Should I make a playlist?

If I wanted to, I could download and add the following rainy songs:

“Singin’ in the Rain,” Gene Kelly

“Rainy Days and Mondays,” The Carpenters

“Who’ll Stop the Rain,” and “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” Creedence Clearwater Revival

“Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head,” B.J. Thomas

“It’s Raining Again,” Supertramp

“Fire and Rain,” James Taylor

“Bring on the Rain,” JoDee Messina and Tim McGraw

But I don’t think I will. I’ve had about enough of the rain, and I want to keep music the simple pleasure that it is.

I hope your Monday is sunnier than mine.

Summer Downpour on Campus

When clouds turn heavy, rich

and mottled as an oyster bed,

when the temperature drops so fast

that fog conjures itself inside the cars,

as if the parking lots were filled

with row upon row of lovers,

when my umbrella veils my face

and threatens to reverse itself

at every gust of wind, and rain

lashes my legs and the hem of my skirt,

but I am walking to meet a man

who’ll buy me coffee and kiss my fingers—

what can be more beautiful, then,

than these boys sprinting through the storm,

laughing, shouldering the rain aside,

running to their dorms, perhaps to class,

carrying, like torches, their useless shoes?

Reprinted from “The Louisville Review,” (No. 59, Spring 2006) by permission of the author. Copyright © 2006 by Juliana Gray, whose most recent book of poetry is “The Man Under My Skin,” River City Publishing, 2005. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Every life has its ups and downs, its simple pleasures and everyday adventures. It also has times when an adventure becomes a bit more than “everyday”—when it challenges your skills and emotional resilience, stretches you beyond what you think you can do, and threatens to overwhelm you. This is how you grow.

Lately, overwhelm has been my constant companion. I’m hip deep in revitalizing my freelance writing—simultaneously taking online classes, building a writer’s website, and brainstorming ideas for pitches. There’s nothing at all curvaceous about my learning curve right now: it points straight up!

I know I’m not the only one who’s experienced this. We all have times in our lives when we take on big projects or face major life changes that leave us feeling exhausted and scared. Here are some ways I’ve been coping that might help you, too:

Do something related to your project every day, no matter how small. Make lists of ridiculously small steps and cross them off as you go. Build on those steps. If you’re learning something new, reread the information you read yesterday and you’ll probably understand it better. Experiment over and over with that new art technique, or set a timer and work on your project for 15 minutes. Just keep at it. Working on it every day helps to desensitize you to the scariness.

Sit with the uncomfortable feelings. Let them roll over you, and often you find they pass and you can get on with your work. If you’re especially worried, allow yourself a designated “worry time,” and whenever anxious thoughts arise, tell yourself that you’ll think about them during worry time.

Plan treats for yourself while you’re going through this experience. Choose something comforting for mind, body, or soul, something that refills your emotional well. Last week I had a massage and met a friend for lunch to offset the hours I spent struggling with my new website.

Keep your focus on the small step right in front of you. Don’t allow yourself to drift into thoughts of “what if,” fantasize about failure, obsess about the next 10 steps you’ll need to take, or even let your mind wander to the big picture. There will be time for that later. I’m encouraged by E.L. Doctorow’s words about writing: “[It] is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”

When it all becomes too much, step aside before you reach the crying and/or cursing stage (or, even worse, the drinking stage). If I’m tired, or if I’ve been at it for several hours, little setbacks can seem insurmountable. When I start to feel overwhelmed and hopeless, I know it’s time to stop for a while. I’ll return when I’m feeling rested and energetic again.

Even though I’ve felt overwhelmed lately, I’ve also felt more energetic and excited than I have for a while. I think the challenge is worth the struggle—and that makes me happy.