When I started holding a regular 9-5 job after graduation, I stopped reading actively.
It wasn’t a conscious decision – it just happened. Of course, saying that there was no longer any time to read will be a lie. There is time to to read; after work, during the weekends, before bedtime. The truth is, I simply do not feel like reading anymore.
Spare time became very, very precious. Considering its inflated value, it is ironic that all I wanted to do was to rest, watch mindless television and hang out with friends (not necessarily in this order).
I couldn’t quite understand it because I’ve loved reading since I was 8 and discovered the wonders of the written word. The general drudgery of everyday life acts like a sedative and tricks the mind into submissiveness. A good dose of intellectual vigor would have done me good but all I crave is to let my brain soak in nothingness.
I tried to squeeze in reading time on the train. It was poor substitute for sitting with a book for hours on end and finishing it up in one deep drag, but it was something. I read books in halting little snippets, in between origins and destinations. It worked but it was not satisfying.
Now, I have the luxury of time to read again. That must be the best thing to have happened all year.
I find the idea of waking up early to read for a couple of hours (before I do anything else) very intoxicating; it is a special privilege I’m not quite sure that I deserve but can’t help being extremely gleeful about.
If we are supposed to count the small blessings in Life, being able to read properly again will be at the very top of my list.
And that’s all 🙂