I got home for the summer (the first portion of summer, before I'm off to England), giving me time to cure my burn-out by doing all of the things I haven't had time for in the last couple of months. One of my goals for the summer was to pull myself out of this reading slump that I had fallen into because of the busy, busy last month of the semester. And falling back into better reading habits will probably (definitely, undoubtedly) benefit me, considering how soon I'll be hopping on a plane to take classes at Oxford.
Yes, I read very frequently, but I had been reading so many short stories and academic articles for my classes that I had neglected my own books. And there's so much out there that I want to read; sometimes, I get overwhelmed thinking about all of the things I could pick up next, yet I can't find the motivation to pick one up and start something new.
For a portion of the semester, I was reading my own books every night before bed, choosing the most lighthearted ones off my shelf to clear my mind and start to fall asleep. And that worked wonders in so many ways. I was relaxed and sleeping soundly - a contrast to the end of the semester, where stressful dreams were keeping me from feeling well-rested as I went about my busy days.
For a while, I have had a plan for my first week at home: pick up Emily Henry's new book from the store and finally sit down to read it. So that's what I did, and as she tends to do, Emily brought me back. I wanted to spend every moment of free time reading that book, and I loved every minute of it. Funny Story was exactly what I needed: a quick read, a love story that keeps me turning pages, a love story that doesn't make me cringe at every page because it gives the characters a personality other than each other. Classic Emily Henry. I finished it in two days. I hadn't read a book that quickly in a while, and it was starting to weigh on me.
I'm that person who will respond to "I don't like to read" with "you haven't found the right book," because one of my favorite things in the world is when I love a book so much that all I want to do is read it. I admit that maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself for "not reading enough" when... I'm always reading, even if it's not a full book. But then I find a story that I really love and I realize that I could be a lot happier if I cut out all of the time scrolling on the Internet, replacing the phone in my hand with one of the unread books on my bookshelf. (I am aware that I sound like one of those ads telling you to look up from your phone, but it's just what I'm thinking about right now.)
After finishing up with the new Emily Henry, I started Pride and Prejudice, and I'm wondering why I haven't read Jane Austen sooner.
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