I love reading. I would be perfectly happy if I made my living sitting in a comfy chair reading a book, eating twizzlers, gummy bears, gummy worms (really anything in the gummy varietal), sipping coffee or tea (getting fat, obviously) all day long. When I was a kid they had RAD days at school. That stood for Read All Day, and they were my favorite!
Reading a book is like walking into a whole new world, becoming an expert on a whole new topic, or discovering a totally different thought process. Like anything else, reading gets tiring, but guess what you do then? You make a fresh cup of cocoa and read something else! It’s fantastic!
For a while, I thought it was just the art of story telling that I liked so much because I would get hooked on different TV shows too. But I’ve recently realized that it’s not the story; it’s the books. It’s not the feel of the pages or the “cozied up on a winter day” atmosphere (though that doesn’t hurt). There’s something about a book itself. How much work gets put into a book. Someone poured their heart and soul into those words because they felt those ideas needed to go out into the world. It’s not the half-assed, careless, hack blogger spending 10 minutes haphazardly throwing together their partially formed thoughts out onto the interwebs. Someone took time and put real effort into it. It’s as close as you can get to eating brains without becoming a zombie.
When I was a kid, I dreamed of being a writer. I wrote a whole novel and everything. It was terrible. Thank God it was before I knew to make computer back-ups and it got wiped out, but I spent hours in my bedroom clacking away on the keyboard as only the most unbalanced and awkward of adolescents could. About 6 months ago, it dawned on me that thanks to the internet, I don’t need permission to be a writer. That realization empowered me! And filled me! And moved me to action!
It was the wrong action. I started a Mommy blog called “word2umothers” (I’m clever like that). I paid for the domain and everything. The problem is, I don’t LOVE being a mom. Go ahead and judge, you have my permission. I am a mom, I do the best I can and I love my son with a ferocity that I didn’t know I was capable of. However after a long day of cleaning up spills, accidents (you parents know what I mean), wiping boogers, begging my toddler to get into the car, out of the car, pick up his toys, stop roaring at the top of his little lungs, not to mention all the agonizing over whether I’m doing a decent job at it, it’s pretty much the last thing I want to think of.
However, I LOVE reading. It’s been my go-to past time since forever. About a month ago, I re-realized my love of reading. I read an article on the Facebook that said if people spent as much time reading as they did on social media (ironic much?) they could read 200 books a year. 200! There were facts and statistics and numbers crunched and I wish I could direct you to the article because it really was a good one. But, alas! that was last month and I can’t remember what I had for breakfast, so we’re up shit creek there.
Now, I don’t spend THAT much time on social media. All I have is Facebook and Instagram, but I have applied this and I’ve already completed 4 books. I’m working on about 3 more with another 3 or 4 on the waiting list.
So I’m going to be like every other millennial. I’m going to live my dream, dammit! I’m going to read books and haphazardly throw my partially formed thoughts of them out onto the interwebs. I hope you enjoy… you know, if you like that sort of thing.
Reader without a Cause
(told you I was clever)
(I will post a link of this to Facebook, I will post a link of this to Facebook. I will not chicken out.)
Jennifer is an IT professional, a mom, a friend, and despite what she may think, a writer. You can find more clever brainfood from her at her blog, Reader Without a Cause.