Reading is Sexy
I was watching (surprise!) Gilmore Girls the other day and noticed that Rory was wearing a shirt that declared "Reading is Sexy." It made me smile.
Then I began a sad thought process about how I wish I had more time to just sit there and read, soaking up knowledge on all different sorts of things. I should read the classics that I've never read (or even touched, for that matter), research Leviticus, master in understanding of all John Donne's poetry, and essentially become a Barnes & Noble addict, being one of those who can be found sipping Starbucks and reading the latest prized writings.
Then reality hit. Reading makes me tired. I don't have the time. My understanding of literature is limited. Science makes sense to me, not the abstract philosophies of what I think the author is saying.
The best remedy I came up with was to bring a book to read in between participants while I'm working in the psychology research lab.
I wondered why I like writing. It's fun, but my method is practical. The organization is usually well-planned and the 2 times that I have attempted writing an essay (as in creative nonfiction, not a report) without a plan, the writing has been less than satisfactory. Even crappy. And when I read published essays and poetry, I can seldom fully grasp what the author is "really saying," and therefore feel that I am either missing something critical or just being a jerk in dismissing the critical-ness. I write what I mean, even in poetry.
Oh, how I wish I knew more. But I'm fine. I sleep 8 hours every night... and although I can't afford Starbucks, I still try to go to Barnes & Noble at least three times each year to pick up a good read.
Then I began a sad thought process about how I wish I had more time to just sit there and read, soaking up knowledge on all different sorts of things. I should read the classics that I've never read (or even touched, for that matter), research Leviticus, master in understanding of all John Donne's poetry, and essentially become a Barnes & Noble addict, being one of those who can be found sipping Starbucks and reading the latest prized writings.
Then reality hit. Reading makes me tired. I don't have the time. My understanding of literature is limited. Science makes sense to me, not the abstract philosophies of what I think the author is saying.
The best remedy I came up with was to bring a book to read in between participants while I'm working in the psychology research lab.
I wondered why I like writing. It's fun, but my method is practical. The organization is usually well-planned and the 2 times that I have attempted writing an essay (as in creative nonfiction, not a report) without a plan, the writing has been less than satisfactory. Even crappy. And when I read published essays and poetry, I can seldom fully grasp what the author is "really saying," and therefore feel that I am either missing something critical or just being a jerk in dismissing the critical-ness. I write what I mean, even in poetry.
Oh, how I wish I knew more. But I'm fine. I sleep 8 hours every night... and although I can't afford Starbucks, I still try to go to Barnes & Noble at least three times each year to pick up a good read.