No Time For Love, Dr. Jones

On weekends, the wife, little girl, and I often visit the Kyobo book center, where we pick up books and educational material for the 18th letter, and I invariably wind up buying a bunch of new books and DVDs. Asking me to merely window shop in a place that sells books and movies is like asking a nymphomaniac to stop touching penises: it's simply impossible, much to my wife's chagrin (me buying DVDs and books, not nymphos' penis-touching predilection, just to be clear). The problem is that I have so many unread books cluttering my shelves, and a fair amount of films I haven't gotten around to watching; and, like that fish in the children's story by Helen Palmer and P.D. Eastman, it keeps growing at a frightening rate. Because I have so little time, what with work, parenting, and dancing at gay bars in Itaewon. All kidding aside, it's pretty easy to write a blog entry late at night (late for me, at least), but having a chance to sit down and watch a movie, undisturbed, or to read more than 20 pages of a novel, is pretty hard with my schedule. I usually manage to watch a DVD on Friday nights, but even if I watched a new one every Friday for a year, I'm afraid I still will not have watched every movie in my A Fish Out Of Water collection.
And then we have our bonus features . Should I just quit work? Because that's what it would take for me to have any hope of seeing all the cool (but usually mundane and shitty) stuff they pack discs with these days. I realize this kind of stuff wouldn't bother a normal person, but I have this weird OCD-level inclination to finish everything I start. If I don't, I feel like a failure. This character trait helped motivate me to earn honors at university, but, I'm ashamed to admit, if applied to watching DVD bonus features and slogging through directors' commentaries, I'm a total slack-ass.
Of course, this is a small gripe in the big picture that is my life. the little one grows smarter and cuter by the nanosecond; the relationship I share with my wife ages (tired cliche alert!) like a fine wine; and I, the 23-year-old (*snicker*) wunderkind with a killer smile, continue to mature. Everything considered, I'm walking on air.

Still, I'm dying to hear the John Carpenter and Kurt Russell Anschauung of their work on Big Trouble In Little China. I fear I will not rest peacefully until I do.