Reader, Resurrected

I found out yesterday morning that the allergy medication I’ve been taking for the last year expired in August of 2013.

Reading is fundamental. I could have saved myself a year of sinus trouble had I simply read the label.

Speaking of reading, what happened to the book nerd I used to know and love? I used to read while I was walking on my way home from school. Dangerous? Certainly. But my desire to consume fiction was insatiable. I even competed in “The Battle of the Books” in junior high, answering trivia questions from a list of 45 awesome books.

Now? Eh. I apparently can’t be bothered to read things like expiration dates.

I’ve been in the middle of John Green’s “Paper Towns” for about four months now. There are no less than thirty books sitting in my kindle or on my shelf, collecting virtual and actual dust. I belong to a Stephen King fan club online called “Constant Readers.” Ha! I started one of his short story books a year ago and bought another that is now staring back at me, unloved, unopened. Such a sad fate…

I even have friends who write books. Cynthia Hand, a college friend, writes excellent YA fiction. I buy her books and find time to read them perhaps a year later. Essentially, she is writing them faster than I can read them.

This is tragic, people. What is the matter with me? Is it depression? Lack of time management? Facebook? The answer is obvious: all of the above.

Rediscovering things that I love has been a struggle, but I have slowly been coming out of my post-divorce funk. My meds are balanced and I’m even contemplating exercise. I get as far as putting my running clothes on, even. Baby steps, people.

Yes, it’s true that most weeks I work an almost full-time schedule. But take, say, 35 hours out of the week (don’t hold your breath, but I am attempting to math). 24 times 7 is 168 hours a week. What have I been doing with the other 133 hours? Sleeping only takes up about 50 hours of my week. That leaves 83 hours of what, exactly?

The answer is: Facebook. It’s a time suck. It’s a trap. It’s a form of people watching and I just couldn’t get enough. Now I realize that it’s much nicer spending time with actual people. Which means: I’ve been spending time with other people in real life, outside of work. I know, I’m letting everyone down regarding the self-proclaimed profession of Hermit Crab. Somehow, I’m less than disappointed.

                                                                                                                   

I definitely do not lack reading material: there are even more books I found when I moved, my beloved children’s literature that I hope Violet will read someday soon. The House of Dies Drear. A Stranger Came Ashore. The Silver Kiss, a precursor to the Twilight series that is far superior to that Sparkly Vampire Crap. I bought her the Bunnicula series and I hope to re-read those as well…

So, no more excuses. I hereby resolve not only to read books, but to (gasp) write reviews of them. Even the dollar store ones I buy because hey, I would be lucky to find one of my books on the shelf of a dollar store someday. And I’m powerfully curious how they ended up wedged between The Bible and coloring books.