When I was in college and shortly thereafter, there was this blissful time in my life when I found myself absolutely drowning in words. I was surrounded by people who were literary; I was reading all the time; I was writing regularly. When I consider, now, what my ideal life could be like, these are the times I return to. These are the times I guess I’m always trying to get back to.
I wonder why I can’t get back there. Just now, I found myself wanting to crawl under blankets with a book and read, but I feel like that’s decadent, not allowed. I really only allow myself – this is the part of my mind that I’m parsing out just now – to read when I’m sitting somewhere with nothing else to do, when I’m in the bathroom (sorry if that’s gross to some of you) or just before I go to bed. I’m not sure why this is. Why do I feel like I can’t lay on the couch in the afternoon and just read the day away, especially when I have finished my work for the day? I think I must actively work to change this perception.
I, too, wish I didn’t like television. That box takes away from my time with words. I don’t have cable, but I do have a Netflix box that allows me to stream in TV shows, and honestly, I spend most evenings watching that box rather than writing or reading. I think I must work to change this, too.
I really would like to get back to a place where my time is divided between only a few things – people, new experiences, beautiful things, and words. These seem to be the times when I am most happy. Now to see if I can figure out how to get back there. What do you folks do to keep yourselves embedded in words?