When I was younger, I always rolled my eyes at those people that said, "Oh, I love to read, but I just don't have time any more." I thought it was complete hogwash. Being the over-opinionated eleven year old that I was, I would adamantly declare to myself. "I will never be like that. I will always have time to read."
Confession: I have become that person.
I made up excuses, of course. Oh, I am reading, really. It's just that I'm reading textbooks instead of actual books (in my mind, textbooks and real books are totally different things). Besides, I'm in college now, which automatically means that I am somehow absorbing the same amount of knowledge that I did when I read books (see how that became past tense. When I read books. Shame, shame.) So after going through freshman year reading only a handful of real books on breaks, I decided to change things, hence the stack of seventeen books on my bedroom floor this summer. My self-esteem boosted quite liberally when I ended the summer having read thirteen books for a whopping total of 4350 pages. Success.
So I have been making significant changes to continue this new trend and to keep myself from being that person again this school year.
Progress thus far: Well, lucky for me, in one of my classes we're actually studying contemporary American novels. I've recently finished Typical American by Gish Jen, and I'm nearly done with Jasmine by Bharati Mukherjee. Then I have also read The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, and I am making significant progress with Ann Lamott's Bird by Bird, which I am thoroughly enjoying. Reading four books in six weeks isn't all that bad, is it?