Reading

I don't do enough of it.  Reading, that is.  Want proof?  When I was trying to think of a post title, I wanted something clever or profound or thought-provoking, but instead all I got was "Reading."  If I read more, I would have had at least four different titles in my head to choose from.  

When I was a wee child, I read constantly.  I don't really remember when I started reading so avidly, but I know when I stopped.  I remember, in middle school, every morning before school started, I would be in the library, lingering in book shelves I'd already been through, leafing through books I'd already examined.  I would check out one or two books before the bell rang and head to class.  In the middle of the morning, there was a period devoted to reading only.  You couldn't talk in that period; you couldn't even study or do other homework.  Purely reading time.  And during that time I would get started on a book I'd checked out.  Also sometimes during class, when the opportunity presented itself, like if I had finished my homework early, or if we had a few minutes before the bell rang, I would crack open a book.  Then I would read on the bus ride all the way home.  When I got home, I would head straight up to my room, curl into my armchair, and read until dinnertime.  Even if I had homework, that would wait until after dinner.  Once homework was finished, it was usually bedtime, so I would hop into bed, my mom would tuck me in, and I would take out my little old cellphone for a light and read until the late hours of the night.  Usually I would finish the book, return it in the morning, and resume browsing in the stacks.  I stopped reading during the summer between eight grade year and freshman year.

Another sign that my reading skills are rusty: my vocabulary has... see, I'm trying to think of a specific word and I can't.  My vocabulary reservoir has been greatly depleted.  "Greatly."  In the olden days, I would have said something like, "Significantly" or something.  

My spelling and grammar are also a little worse for wear.  I was the girl who could have won the District spelling bee if I had wanted.  But I didn't want to, so I misspelled "superintendent."  On purpose.  Now I want to spell things right, but I make little letter switches, and I can't see the word clearly in my head, like I used to.

 I'm stuck reading the same few books: Catch-22, Life of Pi, and the first few chapters of Gone with the Wind.  Obviously this needs to stop.  I need to reinvigorate myself with a love of reading.  I just don't know how.  I've already read all the books from the downstairs book closet that I want to, and the Fiction section at the local library scares me.  There, every time you turn your head there's another cheap romance novel.  Who wants to read those?  So I confine myself to the Non-fiction section and wander past the biographies, gardening, carpentry, and art books.  I really don't mind them all, I've actually learned a lot from the Non-fiction shelves, but it's hard to throw yourself into a book like that, where everything is real and boring.  

I think if I just find some good books, I'll be set, and I'll start reading again.  I want to know that a good book is waiting for me at home, that someone else's life and problems are lying in my chair, ready for me to pick up at anytime, and that I can shut anytime I want.  I love reading, but I just can't!