In my last post, I discussed how, in an on-going exploration of what interests me,  I have begun keeping a record of the stories and articles that I enjoy. After sharing several dozen articles on Facebook, I made the switch to the social bookmarking site delicious; not only could I see what other users were sharing, but I could also tag each link in order to organize these bookmarks according to how they fit into my interest categories.

And better yet, delicious offers a range of feedback options, providing quantitative data which relates articles to their assigned tags and reading habits of users.

In a way, it all seems frivolous: even without a specific count, I should have a general idea of what topics I read about the most. Quantifying this information has an interesting effect on me, though, as it provides much clearer information about my habits.

I have just begun to watch the development of a movement called ‘quantified self;’ Ben Casnocha’s blog was the first place I saw this idea mentioned, but I have since seen the practice transformed into hyperstylized ‘annual reports‘ of individual behavior, powered by Daytum. I think it would be very easy to fall into a trap of obsessively collecting data about one’s self, to the point of gross inefficiency, but the general idea backing the movement is very appealing — quite simply, take the time to get to know yourself and your habits.

So how does (not quite obsessively) tracking my reading habits get me anywhere?

From a very interesting article analyzing Leonardo da Vinci in The Chronicle of Higher Education:

If there is one conclusion to be drawn from the life of Leonardo, it is that procrastination reveals the things at which we are most gifted — the things we truly want to do. Procrastination is a calling away from something that we do against our desires toward something that we do for pleasure, in that joyful state of self-forgetful inspiration that we call genius.

I certainly am not claiming genius, nor do I dare compare my own dabbling in a couple different subjects to the (truly) Renaissance man endeavors of da Vinci. The article raises a valid point, however, in that what we do in our spare time can serve as a strong indicator of what truly interests us. I have talked before about my interest in public policy and city and regional planning — and in an academic sense, I would certainly prefer the study of those topics than, say, mathematics or British literature. I have room for other disciplines in my life, however, and branching out and reading more will certainly not undermine the path I am currently taking.

So, blame it on da Vinci if you wish, but I am allowing myself to think that the reading and tracking I do now might be worth more for my long-term happiness than I originally thought.