I'm a voracious reader, have been since I was a child. I was born into a TV free household, where management insisted 'The Man' was behind TV, and that our thoughts and reactions and habits were subject to undue influence if we watched. At the time I resented that we were the only people IN THE ENTIRE WORLD without a TV, but now I respect and understand the wisdom behind that decision.
Our bookshelves were loaded with everything from art history to social commentary to mysteries to science fiction to gardening references. I read everything, all of it, in spite of my young age. I have reread some of the early tomes, and realize I missed much of the intent of the authors due to my lack of maturity at the time, but since I've reread them, I got it later.
Anyway, I love to read. I also love to write, mostly because I love to read - they're connected in my mind. A few years back I got a library card, and am a frequent flyer at our neighborhood branch. I take my backpack, return the pile I've already read, then wander the aisles like a kid in a candy store, choosing as I meander. It's like Christmas every single time I go.
I can't go now. I am feeling sad and the definite absence of that reassuring pile of books by my bed that invites me to escape into the realms within. I have returned all that I had checked out before the quarantine, and am rereading my own collection, which I've read multiple times already and is feeling a little...stale, maybe?
My friend J turned me on to a mystery writer, and I ordered an entire series of hers from an online used bookstore. I am down to one...and don't really want to keep adding to my collection. Yes, I know I can sell them all at the garage sale we'll be having once the world opens up again, but given mylimited zero earning power right now, I hate to keep just buying stuff....especially since I do not know when I'll be earning again.
(Don't even get me started on how ridiculous dealing with the unemployment service is when you're self employed, and they're supposed to be addressing that issue but haven't because they're overwhelmed and using a system 50 years outdated to meet the unexpected surge in claims during the lockdown... which means even though you're entitled to compensation, actually getting it has been fucking impossible and maddening on too many levels to count.)
So, I've thought about investing (a one time thing...with some ongoing costs over time for books, but less than buying books, I'm told) in an e reader. I found one I like - an Amazon Paperwhite. Apparently it's as close to reading a real book as any have come to date, and it's waterproof, which will come in handyif when I drop it in the tub.
I love the weight of a book in my hands, how each is different, how the paper varies and the print varies and the sizes vary and those that have been well read have folds in the corners where people have marked their places and I love the feeling of a real book. I don't love that paper is required to make books, and that we haven't yet come up with alternatives that look and feel similar, but don't totally destroy the environment. Apparently bamboo is an alternative, but it's not yet widely used (cost issues I think), so it's a futuristic option.
So, on this the sixth week of the new normal, I am having these thoughts.
Do you have thoughts?
Huge hugs,
Stevie
Our bookshelves were loaded with everything from art history to social commentary to mysteries to science fiction to gardening references. I read everything, all of it, in spite of my young age. I have reread some of the early tomes, and realize I missed much of the intent of the authors due to my lack of maturity at the time, but since I've reread them, I got it later.
Anyway, I love to read. I also love to write, mostly because I love to read - they're connected in my mind. A few years back I got a library card, and am a frequent flyer at our neighborhood branch. I take my backpack, return the pile I've already read, then wander the aisles like a kid in a candy store, choosing as I meander. It's like Christmas every single time I go.
I can't go now. I am feeling sad and the definite absence of that reassuring pile of books by my bed that invites me to escape into the realms within. I have returned all that I had checked out before the quarantine, and am rereading my own collection, which I've read multiple times already and is feeling a little...stale, maybe?
My friend J turned me on to a mystery writer, and I ordered an entire series of hers from an online used bookstore. I am down to one...and don't really want to keep adding to my collection. Yes, I know I can sell them all at the garage sale we'll be having once the world opens up again, but given my
(Don't even get me started on how ridiculous dealing with the unemployment service is when you're self employed, and they're supposed to be addressing that issue but haven't because they're overwhelmed and using a system 50 years outdated to meet the unexpected surge in claims during the lockdown... which means even though you're entitled to compensation, actually getting it has been fucking impossible and maddening on too many levels to count.)
So, I've thought about investing (a one time thing...with some ongoing costs over time for books, but less than buying books, I'm told) in an e reader. I found one I like - an Amazon Paperwhite. Apparently it's as close to reading a real book as any have come to date, and it's waterproof, which will come in handy
I love the weight of a book in my hands, how each is different, how the paper varies and the print varies and the sizes vary and those that have been well read have folds in the corners where people have marked their places and I love the feeling of a real book. I don't love that paper is required to make books, and that we haven't yet come up with alternatives that look and feel similar, but don't totally destroy the environment. Apparently bamboo is an alternative, but it's not yet widely used (cost issues I think), so it's a futuristic option.
So, on this the sixth week of the new normal, I am having these thoughts.
Do you have thoughts?
Huge hugs,
Stevie
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