It’s 11pm on a Sunday night and I have hiccups real bad.
I apologise for my lack of punctuation in this post, I’m currently lying in bed on my phone and I can’t sleep.
So sometime two years ago, i made the conscious decision to start reading on my commute to and from work. In the beginning, this was merely a means to make the most of my time, but obviously quickly escalated into a full blown obsession. I didn’t really care what I read or how much I read, but now I make updates nearly every day on Goodreads and have personal page quotas i set to hit every day.
Currently, I work as an IT consultant and had a similar concern before I took on my current job – once I start taking things seriously, will they lose their shine? I’m not saying that I’m no longer in awe of all things IT related, but there are definitely days, sometimes weeks, when I just want a break from what I do.
Reading is merely a hobby of mine. It doesn’t determine my livelihood or my income, it is still a means to pass the time – with the added bonus of enjoyment on top. But there are some times, like now, when I feel like it is just as strenuous as a full time career.
Im sure if you’re reading this and you’re not my boyfriend (hi honey!), you’ve experienced the dreaded book slump/hangover. I’m afraid I’m in one now – feeling that Sanderson burn right now. And the most frustrating thing about it is that I’m practically drowning in shame. Shame that I don’t want to read at the moment. Shame that i can’t just enjoy what I’m reading right now. I hate sitting on the bus and not reading, but right now I can’t bring myself to do it.
Isnt that just silly?
It shouldn’t matter to me, but it really does. And it sucks.
Im reading the first 20 pages of a book and moving on over and over again because i just can’t latch on and it’s so so so frustrating.
But I’ll get there, i know i will.
Just gotta find a story that’ll knock my socks right off.