Figure out what you need

In this week’s blog I mostly want to take a minute to mirror a sentiment Alli expressed a couple of weeks of ago: we must make time for reading.  This sentiment was made real and relevant to me last night when I decided to carve three hours out of my schedule to spend the evening re-reading Ray Bradbury’s The Halloween Tree.  The last time I sat down and read a book straight through was earlier this year with The Great Gatsby (and it helps when it’s roughly your 500^th reading of a novel) one hung-over Sunday morning.  But before that I have no idea how long it has been since I’ve had the opportunity to do such a thing.

And the effects of last night’s journey into the great beyond of Ray Bradbury’s imagination? Similar to those of a drug, like eating chocolate after abstaining for too long- you find it difficult to stop yourself.  All day, while teaching early this morning, and while trapped inside a tutoring center for 8 hours after that, in the back of my mind has been one thought: I can’t wait to read again. 

It’s exhilarating to be excited to do something that you’ve been doing for most of your life and that has been a significant part of your life, but there is a disappointing side to this story, a side to which I’m sure many of you can relate.  It doesn’t matter how excited I am to really start reading again, and it doesn’t matter that I’ve spent all day at work anticipating starting Tender is the Night again; at the end of the day, I’m often just too tired to do it.  Hell, I can barely write this blog, let alone indulge in an enjoyable reading experience. 

So many nights I find myself sitting on the couch or in my bed (come to think of it, maybe location is my problem) after a long long day, with book in hand, and what feels like two seconds later, I’m out.  I didn’t let this problem bother me too much until now- until I’ve now rediscovered the joys of making time for reading, I’m suddenly saddened that it can’t happen more.

But it is also a matter of choice. Every Sunday night, Jack and I watch at least two hours of television together. Not bad compared to the average American, right? Plus, it’s HBO, so it’s only making us smarter. But it’s two hours nonetheless, and those are two hours, if last night is any indication, that could make a significant dent in a novel. 

Now, to be honest, I’m not saying I’m going to give up the Sunday night ritual of Boardwalk Empire to silently read a book next to Jack- I don’t want to do that. I’m not willing to. But that is precisely the point: 

I’m not willing to. I like the things I’ve chosen to spend time doing.  And when I realize I want to do more of something else, it’s a question of learning to balance and to eliminate some of the things you don’t care as much about. It’s very rarely the case that we truly don’t have the time.

So, as I confessed, I don’t choose to take time out of my HBO schedule, but I would be happy to take some time from Facebook Time and deposited it into the Reading Time account. And I would be happy to take some Downton Abbey on Netflix time (yeah, the obsession with that show was brief), and I would be more than happy to take the break time that I spend idly staring at my cell phone. And the time that I would normally spend surfing the internet when I finish this blog. All of that can willingly go into the Reading Time bank. Why not?

We all think we don’t have enough time, and to some extent, we’re all right because we don’t spend much time trying to figure out how to better incorporate the things that matter. Yes, we all need downtime where were just not doing anything, and don’t let anybody tell you that you should listen to audiobooks as you drive if you feel that you truly get something out of the downtime of listening to music instead.  But that’s the thing- take a minute and figure out what is actually adding to your life and what, in the end, is just a time suck. I trust you to know the difference.