God, I miss reading. I reallyreally do. These past few months, the only books I've had time for were required texts. And they're a bitch. Sure, I managed to squeeze a few life lessons out of them, the kind that make you want to sit back and just exhale because for one golden moment this serene sense of clarity just sweeps through you. But it dissipates pretty fast. Anyway. I just miss reading. Just sinking into a story. I love the way a good book can just make the day disappear. The way it can just suck time like... ok, bad imagery, never mind. But I bought a book today (hooray). Man. Probably one of the things I'm most looking forward to when I go back to the Phils. is attacking my stockpile of romance novels. I mean, I bought a couple of them when my mom was still with me and was controlling all the money. Now that I actually know firsthand the state of my finances, it comes off as a little frivolous (good lord, me? frivolous?) to be buying them. And it's a little disconcerting, the way the romance sections are always empty. It's a little embarrassing, snooping around there, and picking up books with half-naked couples cavorting in variations of the English/Scottish countryside. I'm such a snob, I'm even snooty to myself. But who doesn't love escapism?
Right.
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