I've had these books for close to a year but I've finished
only about five of them.
When I decided to take that sabbatical, one of the priorities back then was reading through the stacks of unread literature littering my room. See, I have an absurd – and expensive - habit of toiling far too long in bookstores; reading through reviews of books and ending up purchasing them just because somebody from the Montana Herald claimed it to be “a literary treasure for today’s generation”.
Naturally, most individuals would take such comments with a grain of salt. Who reads the Montana Herald anyway? Are they even a legitimate daily broadsheet or just a community newsletter circulating among the 862 inhabitants of that poor state?
But those comments are exceptionally deceiving, not to mention essential marketing tools. Who cares if they came from the Montana Herald or the Bizmarck Bulletin? Somebody said it’s good then it really must be good! We all want a sense of affirmation with our purchases and these comments do that job - and do it well, I might add.
So we buy them, thinking that we’re about to read the works of the next Pulitzer Award Winner. The problem is, while we buy these books like our lives depended on it, what happens after that remains a different story because buying them is different from reading them.
And that’s where I’m at fault.
The thing is I wouldn’t be too bummed out if I actually read the books I buy and not just use them as mere decorations in a room that already has far too of these said “decors” (mother prefers to call them trash).
But I haven’t read anything in three months. My current reading material, ‘Crashing the Borders’ by Harvey Araton still has a Garfield bookmark stuck in chapter eight, and it has been there since last December. It’s not so much the lack of time that prevents me from sitting down and opening these books, since my unemployed state gives me all the time in the world.
The culprit is a lack of interest - coupled with spending too much time thinking about harebrained thoughts like the universal usefulness of my pinky toe.
That’s what happens when you don’t stick to your gameplan. The pinky debacle, mind you, is but merely one proof of the pride-swallowing boredom I have been experiencing lately. I also once experimented with water-proof matches, chocolate mousetraps, BB guns, and rusted machetes. But I’ll reserve those stories for another entry. They're strictly embarrassing.
And so, as I write this entry, I will now fully concentrate on my books and when I say concentrate, I mean actually reading them as opposed to making them permanent fixtures in my bookshelves. For starters, I shall make it a point to finish ‘Crashing the Borders’ since it really is a fascinating read.
From then on, I shall stick to a plan of one book per week.
At least now I can say that I’m making good use of my time. The rakets will come, I hope. But in the meantime, I have approximately 24 books to keep me busy in the foreseeable future.
More importantly, reading books just might save me from the embarrassment of using up our supply of bandages.
only about five of them.
When I decided to take that sabbatical, one of the priorities back then was reading through the stacks of unread literature littering my room. See, I have an absurd – and expensive - habit of toiling far too long in bookstores; reading through reviews of books and ending up purchasing them just because somebody from the Montana Herald claimed it to be “a literary treasure for today’s generation”.
Naturally, most individuals would take such comments with a grain of salt. Who reads the Montana Herald anyway? Are they even a legitimate daily broadsheet or just a community newsletter circulating among the 862 inhabitants of that poor state?
But those comments are exceptionally deceiving, not to mention essential marketing tools. Who cares if they came from the Montana Herald or the Bizmarck Bulletin? Somebody said it’s good then it really must be good! We all want a sense of affirmation with our purchases and these comments do that job - and do it well, I might add.
So we buy them, thinking that we’re about to read the works of the next Pulitzer Award Winner. The problem is, while we buy these books like our lives depended on it, what happens after that remains a different story because buying them is different from reading them.
And that’s where I’m at fault.
The thing is I wouldn’t be too bummed out if I actually read the books I buy and not just use them as mere decorations in a room that already has far too of these said “decors” (mother prefers to call them trash).
But I haven’t read anything in three months. My current reading material, ‘Crashing the Borders’ by Harvey Araton still has a Garfield bookmark stuck in chapter eight, and it has been there since last December. It’s not so much the lack of time that prevents me from sitting down and opening these books, since my unemployed state gives me all the time in the world.
The culprit is a lack of interest - coupled with spending too much time thinking about harebrained thoughts like the universal usefulness of my pinky toe.
That’s what happens when you don’t stick to your gameplan. The pinky debacle, mind you, is but merely one proof of the pride-swallowing boredom I have been experiencing lately. I also once experimented with water-proof matches, chocolate mousetraps, BB guns, and rusted machetes. But I’ll reserve those stories for another entry. They're strictly embarrassing.
And so, as I write this entry, I will now fully concentrate on my books and when I say concentrate, I mean actually reading them as opposed to making them permanent fixtures in my bookshelves. For starters, I shall make it a point to finish ‘Crashing the Borders’ since it really is a fascinating read.
From then on, I shall stick to a plan of one book per week.
At least now I can say that I’m making good use of my time. The rakets will come, I hope. But in the meantime, I have approximately 24 books to keep me busy in the foreseeable future.
More importantly, reading books just might save me from the embarrassment of using up our supply of bandages.
The mission begins...
2 comments:
With those books and that familiar prosaic style - combining humor, outrageous but effective metaphors, and nuanced honesty - I think I know who you are.
Or you can correct me.
Cheers!
My apologies friend, but I've the faintest idea who you're talking about.
But if this individual is as good a writer as you say he is, then I am priviledged to be in good company. :)
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