i've rediscovered an old love: reading.
at one time in my life, i loved reading. i lived for it. i would get in trouble with my parents for staying up past my bedtime to read. seriously, i would sit in my closet with a book light hours after i was supposed to be asleep just to finish whatever book i was currently reading.
then, i got to college. reading wasn't fun anymore because i had hours worth of reading assignments shoved down my throat every day, most of them stuff i had no interest in whatsoever. so i quit reading. no really, quit altogether. i didn't read for class, and i didn't read for pleasure. i just took a break...indefinitely.
i was a joke to my friends (and probably my professors, too): the english major who doesn't read. it's like a strange, oxymoronic impossibility. i honestly don't know how i made it through college.
but i've rediscovered the joy of reading. i think the freedom to read whatever i want, whenever i want has given me a new perspective. there's no pressure to read something i don't like. if something grabs my attention, pulls me in and won't let me go, demands that i continue reading, holds my focus and makes me ponder, delve deeper, keep reaching to understand, then i'm happy to read it. but if i read a few sentences, and i'm not interested, i can put it down and walk away. just like that.
reading should be enjoyed, considered a privilege, not done out of obligation. so no more obligation for me. just enjoyment. i'm going back to those days of late night closet reading, when i couldn't get enough of literature: drinking in the words and wishing i could someday compose beautiful, powerful prose that would cause a person to sit up all night long in her closet just to finish the story.
