Yesterday evening I was lolling (the laying down lazily kind, not the laughing out loud kind) around in my GIANT bed reading my facebook newsfeed for the hundredth time that day, and I had what I imagine is the modern version of Constantine’s religious epiphany. While I digress, my revelation may not be as historically influential (although, who knows—maybe I’ll take this new-found direction in my life and beat up a bunch of barbarians with my knitting needles and then we’ll see who’s the better war leader!) I think I can finally say I’ve had my mid-college-life-crisis. You see, I’ve spent the last two years of university lazing around watching Netflix and occasionally glancing over the eighty page hagiographies I’m supposed to read for my history classes, but really not doing anything except hanging out in my room and going to class. I don’t know what clicked exactly, but there I was, doing nothing once again, and suddenly the urge to do something productive hit me like a frying pan in the face.
Now, I’m not really the do-something type of person. I’m not going to suddenly decide to start an exercise regime or really leave my apartment at all, if I don’t have to, so I only got as far as my bedroom door before I changed my mind. As if by fate (and I imagine there was some mystical music—maybe chimes) my eyes fell upon my bookshelf and an idea slowly formed inside my brain.
You might see where I’m heading with this, but let me assure you, I sure as hell didn’t. I plopped down on my laundry-strewn floor and began to peruse my bookshelf. I soon discovered that out of the 125 non-academic books that I owned, I had read less than half. Now, don’t think I’ve only read roughly 50 books, because that would be just plain sad, but the truth is I’ve only recently gotten into the habit of keeping the books I read. Usually I would just exchange them at a used bookstore and go on my merry way, but I actually had an income this summer, which I primarily spent on books. Unfortunately, while I had the money to buy them, I didn’t have the time to read them.
I did some complicated calculations (long division. Oh yeah.) and if I read about one book a week, I should be able to finish them all in a year. I know that doesn’t really sound difficult—one book a week should be doable, right? Well, I’m also a college student, I work, and I’m a competitive swing dancer, so I’ve got a lot on my plate. Hell, it would be easy to just cop out now and say I don’t have time, but I really want to make time. So that’s where you, my imaginary blog readers, come in. Whether you actually exist or not, I’m using you (or the delusion that you’re real and not just the void that is cyberspace) to keep me honest here. So, I will read one book a week and to make sure I actually do it, I’ll post my thoughts about each book (a review, if you will) on here! I might try doing vlog-style reviews too, so look out for those, and I’ll try to post at least two or three times a week so you don’t get too bored.
Well, I’m off to go read (or alternatively get distracted by the internet) for an hour before class, so hopefully next time I'll have a review for you.