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 500th 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.
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