A few friends sent me a note on Facebook of the 100 books the BBC bets most people have not read more than six of. While pleased to realize that I've read or half-read many of them, it made me realize something else: I've gotten away from reading. I used to be the consummate bookworm, waking up early in middle school just so I could read. I loved almost nothing more than books. They were my favorite gift. I still refuse to buy a Kindle because, to me, even though it's convenient, there's just something about the tactile feeling of holding a book and flipping pages that I will always love. My bookshelves show a life history.
I make excuses about why I don't read as much: I have lessons to plan and essays to grade, I have to clean the house, I'm not home all evening, it's too solitary.... But I took a look at myself this past weekend, and I had plenty of opportunity to read. Plenty. And what did I do? I tooled around on the computer and I watched TV. Lots of it. When did I become what I most feared? When did I allow screens to overtake ink and paper? I have books I received over a year ago and I haven't cracked them. As I get older and add more to my life, I know my own personal time will become even more limited. So I guess it's a question of how I want to spend the minutes to myself, which grow more precious and few (...wait, isn't that a song title?) as time goes on. And it's something I can do something about.
Therefore, after this, I think I'm going to go upstairs and read. Even if it's something I've read before but haven't read in a while (Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis, if you must know), it's still me getting back to an essential part of me for as long as I can.
1 comment:
I am right there with you. I am way under my goal of 1 book per month for this year. And that wasn't even a particularly difficult goal to reach. Sigh... I have to work on this too. We can do it!
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