It came sporadically. I'm not even sure why I was at the local library that night, but for whatever reason I was there. About twenty minutes later, I found myself cozied up in one of the armchairs with Blockade Billy by Stephen King in one hand, my face propped up against my other.
There's something incredibly liberating about doing something just for the sake of doing it. When you do something simply because you want to, it clears up the relationship between you and the action. No consequences. No complications. No what ifs.
That night, I didn't think at all about the heaping amounts of work I had waiting for me at home (perhaps that's the reason why I was at the library that night), I didn't think about the thing, I didn't think about anything else except just sitting down and reading. I did it for me, and I did it because I wanted to.
And I had a good time.
I noted the page number I was on and I promptly checked out Blockade Billy.
The air was cold, but I was electric. I don't remember the last time I read, let alone read a book with the pure intent of personal enjoyment.
It's been about three weeks since that night, and I'm currently three quarters through another one of King's works, Firestarter. Most of the time that I spend reading on the bus, but I find that's more than plenty, seeing as my weekdays involve at least two hours of transit time each day.
Time passes by in the blink of an eye when I'm reading on the way to school, and it takes away from the monotony of watching the same scene unfold before my eyes every day. I get so lost in reading that I forget to wake up J until the bus comes to its final stop at UBC. It's like a dream, only everything is much more vivid as the novel plays out in your head. When I stop reading, I feel refreshed, as if I woke up from a really good nap.
I'm a casual, I know, but god I love reading.
No comments:
Post a Comment