I want to tell you a bit about myself. Outside of my neurosis and personal issues, I swear there’s a real girl who lives in here.
I love to read. I love to read books, blogs, articles, hell I’ll read a label on a chemical if I am standing still. Which isn’t very often. I am not super picky about my reading material either, I am open to suggestion and pick books by recommendation, by jacket art, by the blurb on the back cover, by the author’s picture. I love to read, to sink into a cushion and let my mind paint pictures of sword fights, deep kisses, and death defying leaps of faith. I like to picture the knights on shining steeds, or the president sitting at his desk making the hard choices. I love historical novels, non-fiction, romance, murder mystery, I just like to read.
I really love series, where I can follow a character and watch them grow. I am not opposed to picking up one of my childhood classics and reading it again. Some of them aren’t so classic, but nostalgic and if you read any of my blog you know I am all about yesteryear. In fact I may have turned that phrase in my last post.
I am almost always reading 3-4 books at one time. And I have my favorites that I can pick up in mid chapter, and fall right into the scene. I think I would rather read then do most other sedentary tasks. I get so wrapped up in my mind pictures that when I am interrupted by my husband, I do the slow eye roll and say in a whispered voice from hell, “um, I am reading”. You’d think after all these years he would get the hint.
I am not only a lover of the written word but I read quickly. It is nothing for me to sit down with a 400 pg novel and finish it in one sitting. And not like a 12 hour bender, but like a 2-3 hour time frame. I did that recently, started a novel I had heard about on NPR, one that I knew was just gonna be good. I started it at like 11am and was done by 2ish. I screamed in rage at the end, because not only had I been completely wrapped up in this world, the ending had sucked a BIG FAT EGG! I had spent my day reading, hoping to find that sliver of hope, that glimmer that makes a book great. The balance between the sweet and sour, I was thwarted. But that’s what I get, for reading like a fiend.