I’ve always been a reader. I was the child who got “lost” in grocery stores because no one noticed me grabbing a book and sitting down in the magazine aisle to read. My brother tried to warn me at the start of high school that walking around with my nose in the Mists of Avalon was likely to get me dumped in a garbage can by illiterate seniors. It did not. I think he underestimated my feminine wiles. Which is a fancy way of saying my boobs, and generally symmetrical face. No garbage cans for me. Not of lot of what you might call “friends” either. Lots of books, though.
This weekend I was talking books with friends and realized, not for the first time, that I don’t read books anymore. I read a lot of articles. I read essays. I read a few blogs. I read Facebook status updates. But I can’t read books.
The fact is, I’m an addict. That same little girl sitting alone in the magazine aisle, lost in whatever fantasy world my author of the hour cooked up for me, that little girl still exists. Like a demon, she takes over my life at the drop of a well turned phrase.
Then all is lost. Real life falls to the wayside. I don’t show up to work. As it happens, my work is mostly tending to the lives of two smallish people who are not elves. When I book, I don’t care about my tiny not-elves. I feed them one handed while my face is in a book. I don’t so much clothe them as sort of chuck clothes in their general direction. Appointments get missed. Diapers go unchanged. My driving becomes more erratic.
I’m a mess on book. A dirty, dirty mess with no self control for however long the high lasts. The first step is admitting you have a problem, right? Well I’ve been clean for a lot of days, now. I don’t know how many. I know I miss it.
I miss books.
As soon as my kids are a titch more self-reliant, I plan to fall well off the wagon. There will be a pile of books awaiting me, to land on. My husband will forget my name. I will forget my name.
I’m totally okay with that.
Acceptance. That’s another step, right?
Hear! Hear! I miss books too. But, I can’t be trusted to mother or function correctly on them. Some day…
Of all the things I’ve given up for the kids, I miss literary comas the most!
Ditto. Well, and sneezing without crossing my legs…but mostly reading.
I noticed that I had stopped reading books too, it is why I started the 52 Books in 52 Weeks challenge. The first year I did it was hard because all the reasons I didn’t have time to read anymore hadn’t gone anywhere 🙂
This year I went into addict mode for a while there and people wondered what happened to me hahaha. I have calmed down on the reading a little bit now. I just get so into the story, but the reading hangovers suck 🙂
That reading schedule would see me divorced and possibly arrested for child neglect! Props to you for undertaking such a challenge, I drool at the very prospect.
It has been pretty awesome. I have challenged myself to read things I am not usually into. I made it through the romance novels, but am having issues with the biographies hahaha.
I used to be an *I’m finishing this book if it kills me* kind of reader… even if I didn’t particularly enjoy it I HAD to reach the end to find out what happened/be vindicated when it came good. It took me over 5 years to finish Little Women, I found it so mindblowingly boring, but couldn’t just give up or give it away. And all I can remember is all these girls standing around singing, and then someone died. Not at the same time though.
But since kids; no more. I ain’t got time (or life) to waste on bad books. I rely a lot on word of mouth and reviews to avoid the shit ones in the first place, but if a book is crap it’s gone.
… I use my library card a lot more these days!
I’m with you there – I have less patience for poor sentence construction than I have for a toddler tantrum over “broken” food.
I don’t have kids, but I’m the same way now. I’m not about to force my way through a book if I don’t enjoy it. That’s what plot summaries on wikipedia are for. I might read the last chapter to see where things went, though.
I feel you. I’ve been on a manga kick for a few months, though, and I’d count that as reading books. The words just come with pretty drawings and sparkly men! But, I don’t read many *book* books anymore, even though I work at a bookstore. Now, I might dabble in fanfiction a bit…
Illustrations make everything better, that’s my motto.