Since having my second daughter, I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t read much of anything. Oh, wait. That’s an understatement. I do read blogs and magazines and food labels, but books? No. I haven’t read any books. Oh, wait. I lied, again. I did read this one book about hair and I have been reading books to my children, but adult books, the kind that you can’t put down, the kind that transport you to somewhere more beautiful, more mysterious, more tragic than your real life? Yeah. Those. I haven’t read any of those kinds of books.
And this kind of makes me sad. Not, sad in the sense that I feel as though I’m going to cry. But, sad in the sense that in having two children and in filling my life with so many other things, books have gone to the wayside. And, I like books. Really.
What few may know about me is that I was once in a PhD program at a prestigious university. I was studying English. What I enjoyed most about that program was that I always had a reason to read. From Derrida to Langston Hughes, I’ve read a lot. When my daughter was born, I dropped out of that program. I worked then. I didn’t read much then. But, I did read to stay connected to that other part of me, the intellectual part of me. I read my favorites. I read a lot of 19th century literature and some contemporary stuff. It was nice. But then I had my second daughter. And, now? Now it’s finding time to read real books that’s the problem. *sigh. But, rather than complaining about it, I think tomorrow I’ll check out some books from my library and read. Again. Albeit at a slower pace.
Yes, that would be fun.
What (if anything) are you reading now? Anything you’d recommend?