Reading has been a part of my life since I can remember. I used to sneak a flashlight under the covers and read, crouched up in that moist little cocoon until I finished the story, no matter how long it took. I still hate to stop in the middle of a story. Sleeping, eating, and life will often get sacrificed to the pleasure of curling up with a book. When the little ones were young I tried not to get long books because I knew it would be bad for my health. I still have to be careful today, or the temptation to just let the kids watch some extra TV while I read is soo alluring. It has taken awhile, but I have realized a few things about my love of reading.
1. Great passions mean sacrifice in other areas of life. I.E. sleep.
2. A book has to be pretty bad for me not to finish it. Unfortunately, I'm not a skip to the end kind of reader.
3. You may think that it would then follow that I only pick out the best books. I don't. I read most anything that seems like it could be interesting. Which is bad and good because...
4. My mood is strangely affected by books. I just finished The Glass Castle (a very thought provoking, compelling read). I have spent today wondering what kind of parent I am. What kind of human I am. But it also had me feeling a little sad and depressed.
5. It is more common for me to use it as an escape and less of an education. If I get something out of it, bonus.
6. Reading books on my phone is way better than using it to make calls. My eyes are starting to feel a little fuzzy though.
7. I am terrifically good at guilt: Life is too short to waste time reading bad books. Put down the book and go play or clean or cook or something. Go to sleep, you are going to be so tired tomorrow.
Well, I shake my fist at that! More reading I say! Who needs sleep anyway?
Saturday, January 29, 2011
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