If reading is for nerds, then I am a really, really big one. I knew this already, and I’m cool with it. I would rather read than pretty much anything else in the world. And yes, this can be a bad thing. A selfish thing. Because, unless you’re reading out loud in a happy little literary circle, reading is pretty much an isolated activity. Just me, me, me and whatever’s going on inside whichever book I’m holding in my hands at the moment.
I was surfing the internet Monday night, waiting for Gabe to get home from a Red/Barlow Girl concert, looking for things to r-e-a-d, and I happened to mention that I really don’t like concerts. That I’d rather do laundry (or read). Some people were aghast. With good reason.
Well-rounded, cultured people enjoy music and concerts, TV and movies, wine and good food. Me? I just like to read. (and go to zoos and write and dabble in photography–and good food)
Anyway. I don’t really have a point to this. I was just thinking about this book I started reading tonight. I don’t read a lot of fiction when I’m trying to get a writing project done. I just don’t have the discipline to stop reading and write. A non-fiction book is much easier to read in little increments. I like to devour fiction all in one sitting.
Anyway–the book. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. I’m about, oh, 60 pages in maybe. LOVE it. Why? Well, a lot of reasons. One stands out. It’s about books. And bookstores. And writing. And words. And books. You know you’re a nerd when you get giddy over a book about… books.
I’m wondering what makes some people complete bookworms and some people absolutely, positively not. And then there’s the in-betweeners. I’m a book freak. Gabe is totally not. And my girls? Well, they aren’t nearly the book-lovers that I envision myself being as a child. Maybe my deep love for books began a little later. No, I think it was pretty early on. Hmmm…
Yesterday’s comments were fun. I loved, loved, loved hearing what books all of you were currently reading. There I go again, getting all warm and fuzzy just thinking about books.
So, tell me, are you a bookworm, not a book fan, or somewhere in the middle? I won’t think any less of you if you don’t care for books. Remember–the man of my dreams doesn’t even like them, and I’m crazy about him.
And if you’re one of the bookworms, I’d love to know one of your favorite books of all time (if you’re like me, you won’t be able to narrow it down. List away!)
I’ll be out of town speaking at a women’s retreat from Thursday to Saturday, but I’ll try to have something going on here at the blog while I’m away (nothing too exciting–don’t want to miss the fun!). Pray, if you would, that God will give me His perfect words–the exact words these sweet women are aching to hear (and don’t even know it).
Happy, Happy, Happy 37th Anniversary to my Mom and Dad! Love you two, you bookworms, you!
Have a great day, friends!