Day 11: Rediscovering The Joy of Reading
Today I discovered how much I love reading again. It's interesting to say this in this blog* for two reasons, 1. because the whole point of the blog is about reading and watching less and writing or creating more 2. because you would think that a person who deliberately has to create a project around reading less must really really really love reading if they consider it an addiction.
However, when reading or watching is an addiction, it is no longer pleasurable. It is merely the thing you are doing to make the bad feelings go away. And now that I am only reading mindfully in limited quantities, the reading has taken on its proper character again. I am reading for pleasure.
Before I describe to you the great enjoyment I am once again receiving from reading, though, I want to describe some of the ways I was reading up until a week and a half ago and what was bad about it:
1. I was reading to avoid feeling depressed, sad or anxious. Rather than dealing with difficult emotions by meditating or writing or taking a walk or crying or talking to someone, I was reading Facebook, Tumblr, random think pieces on things I barely cared about, fashion magazines, local news articles, whatever. It wasn't about the content, it was about keeping discomfort at bay.
2. I was reading to procrastinate on doing things like cleaning, cooking/baking, writing to friends, and especially, god forbid, creating anything myself, because those other things seemed too difficult or too scary.
3. I was reading out of some weird obligation to stay up-to-date on my Facebook/Instagram even Tumblr feed! I'm not sure if many other people suffer from this particular problem, but I actually would feel the need to try to read "everything" on my Facebook feed for fear of missing some friend's important status update or some crucial bit of news. This was a pretty difficult task years ago on Facebook, but these days it's actually comical to think that such a thing is even possible, what with the way Facebook organizes information. These days if you try to "keep up" you end up in this miasma of repetitive pet photos, likes and comments on news articles, videos which may or may not actually be funny, and the occasional status update, which if you're lucky, is transparent rather than cryptic, and which once in a great while might actually relate to some important event, but is usually the sort of passing thought you might share with a complete stranger. That is the state of Facebook today, and yet I still was diligently "getting through" my feed, to the point where I would sometimes catch myself sighing audibly as if putting in time at a particularly arduous job. There is no reason, absolutely no reason to do this, and I'm glad that I think I have finally freed myself of this peculiar compulsion, permanently this time.
4. I was reading without aim or selectivity. All of the above behaviors contributed to me reading in an aimless compulsive sort of way, and often reading whatever seemed easiest at the moment. So I've read way more Ranker, and Vox articles than anyone should read in a lifetime. I've filled out Buzzfeed surveys that were clearly sponsored by McDonald's in order to get you to buy their truly shitty coffee. I've hate-read bougie lifestyle pieces from The New York Times, knowing in advance I was going to hate them for being written from such a privileged viewpoint. I've read Reddit speculations on filming sites for "Game of Thrones." I've read parenting articles even though I haven't been a nanny since 2009 and have no intention to procreate. I've read reams of very badly written fan fiction. I've read comments sections.** Enough said. I've read, but I haven't chosen what I've read. I haven't been selective. And whereas when you're learning to read, whatever you read is probably worth something, when you are a grown-ass adult it pays to spend your reading time (and your LIFE time) in reading something worthwhile.
So that is where I was at - reading comments sections in order to avoid real life and ward off existential angst. Not a great cure, it turned out. Here is where I am now.
I woke up today and didn't read my Facebook feed first thing, or, indeed, at all, except in a few scattered moments at work. Instead I wrote my morning pages. I ate with my husband. I got ready for work. I pet the cat. She licked my eyebrow today, incidentally, something that has nothing to do with this project but which she hasn't done in years. I didn't read before work today at all, except to delete some emails and unsubscribe from some spammy ones.
At work, though, I had more time than usual to read. At one point I had an hour and a half straight of reading time, and I was able to enjoy "A Walk in the Woods" by Bill Bryson. And I enjoyed the hell out of it. With my nice, clear head space, I could concentrate fully on Bryson's words and enjoy his journey on the Appalachian Trail, vividly imagining his adventures and laughing along with him. I laughed out loud at one point.*** Because my head wasn't full and I wasn't reading out of compulsion but rather choice, the book came alive for me.
Then later I had another hour and a half of mostly reading time and I picked up "Americanah" by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, which I've been reading for about a week now. Again, the experience of reading was so vivid and rich. I fell into her world and when there was a sad part I felt it deeply in my gut. I had forgotten what that felt like, that amount of emotional connection to a book. And it's not because the other books I've read have not been as good (though these books are quite good). It's because I had stopped making reading the thing I did for its own sake, and I had made it a crutch. I had made it not special.
Now that reading is special again, I feel the kind of pleasure I did as a child when I'd sit up reading with the proverbial flashlight under the covers. I feel that Scholastic Book Club order day kind of pleasure. I feel that riffling the pages of an old paperback to smell them kind of pleasure. It's really good to feel the joy of reading again. It was not what I expected to find on this project, but it is a welcome surprise.
*Which is dedicated to my project to create/consume at a ratio of 75/25 and thereby dedicated to reading less and writing more. See details here: http://7525createconsume.blogspot.com/2017/12/the-project.html
**Comments sections are probably "hitting bottom" in terms of this particular form of addiction.
***Laughed quietly out loud, I feel I should point out, since my workplace needs quiet to function well.
However, when reading or watching is an addiction, it is no longer pleasurable. It is merely the thing you are doing to make the bad feelings go away. And now that I am only reading mindfully in limited quantities, the reading has taken on its proper character again. I am reading for pleasure.
 |
| My Current Reading Roster. |
Before I describe to you the great enjoyment I am once again receiving from reading, though, I want to describe some of the ways I was reading up until a week and a half ago and what was bad about it:
1. I was reading to avoid feeling depressed, sad or anxious. Rather than dealing with difficult emotions by meditating or writing or taking a walk or crying or talking to someone, I was reading Facebook, Tumblr, random think pieces on things I barely cared about, fashion magazines, local news articles, whatever. It wasn't about the content, it was about keeping discomfort at bay.
2. I was reading to procrastinate on doing things like cleaning, cooking/baking, writing to friends, and especially, god forbid, creating anything myself, because those other things seemed too difficult or too scary.
3. I was reading out of some weird obligation to stay up-to-date on my Facebook/Instagram even Tumblr feed! I'm not sure if many other people suffer from this particular problem, but I actually would feel the need to try to read "everything" on my Facebook feed for fear of missing some friend's important status update or some crucial bit of news. This was a pretty difficult task years ago on Facebook, but these days it's actually comical to think that such a thing is even possible, what with the way Facebook organizes information. These days if you try to "keep up" you end up in this miasma of repetitive pet photos, likes and comments on news articles, videos which may or may not actually be funny, and the occasional status update, which if you're lucky, is transparent rather than cryptic, and which once in a great while might actually relate to some important event, but is usually the sort of passing thought you might share with a complete stranger. That is the state of Facebook today, and yet I still was diligently "getting through" my feed, to the point where I would sometimes catch myself sighing audibly as if putting in time at a particularly arduous job. There is no reason, absolutely no reason to do this, and I'm glad that I think I have finally freed myself of this peculiar compulsion, permanently this time.
4. I was reading without aim or selectivity. All of the above behaviors contributed to me reading in an aimless compulsive sort of way, and often reading whatever seemed easiest at the moment. So I've read way more Ranker, and Vox articles than anyone should read in a lifetime. I've filled out Buzzfeed surveys that were clearly sponsored by McDonald's in order to get you to buy their truly shitty coffee. I've hate-read bougie lifestyle pieces from The New York Times, knowing in advance I was going to hate them for being written from such a privileged viewpoint. I've read Reddit speculations on filming sites for "Game of Thrones." I've read parenting articles even though I haven't been a nanny since 2009 and have no intention to procreate. I've read reams of very badly written fan fiction. I've read comments sections.** Enough said. I've read, but I haven't chosen what I've read. I haven't been selective. And whereas when you're learning to read, whatever you read is probably worth something, when you are a grown-ass adult it pays to spend your reading time (and your LIFE time) in reading something worthwhile.
So that is where I was at - reading comments sections in order to avoid real life and ward off existential angst. Not a great cure, it turned out. Here is where I am now.
I woke up today and didn't read my Facebook feed first thing, or, indeed, at all, except in a few scattered moments at work. Instead I wrote my morning pages. I ate with my husband. I got ready for work. I pet the cat. She licked my eyebrow today, incidentally, something that has nothing to do with this project but which she hasn't done in years. I didn't read before work today at all, except to delete some emails and unsubscribe from some spammy ones.
At work, though, I had more time than usual to read. At one point I had an hour and a half straight of reading time, and I was able to enjoy "A Walk in the Woods" by Bill Bryson. And I enjoyed the hell out of it. With my nice, clear head space, I could concentrate fully on Bryson's words and enjoy his journey on the Appalachian Trail, vividly imagining his adventures and laughing along with him. I laughed out loud at one point.*** Because my head wasn't full and I wasn't reading out of compulsion but rather choice, the book came alive for me.
Then later I had another hour and a half of mostly reading time and I picked up "Americanah" by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, which I've been reading for about a week now. Again, the experience of reading was so vivid and rich. I fell into her world and when there was a sad part I felt it deeply in my gut. I had forgotten what that felt like, that amount of emotional connection to a book. And it's not because the other books I've read have not been as good (though these books are quite good). It's because I had stopped making reading the thing I did for its own sake, and I had made it a crutch. I had made it not special.
Now that reading is special again, I feel the kind of pleasure I did as a child when I'd sit up reading with the proverbial flashlight under the covers. I feel that Scholastic Book Club order day kind of pleasure. I feel that riffling the pages of an old paperback to smell them kind of pleasure. It's really good to feel the joy of reading again. It was not what I expected to find on this project, but it is a welcome surprise.
*Which is dedicated to my project to create/consume at a ratio of 75/25 and thereby dedicated to reading less and writing more. See details here: http://7525createconsume.blogspot.com/2017/12/the-project.html
**Comments sections are probably "hitting bottom" in terms of this particular form of addiction.
***Laughed quietly out loud, I feel I should point out, since my workplace needs quiet to function well.
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