It's going to be about a week or two before I'm consumed by work everyday, so I've still been a little bored recently.
So I've found something to take my mind off of reality. Not that the talent has been terribly difficult to uncover, but to the surprise of at least myself, I do in fact know how to read.
But really, who knew?
I've been faced with the task of finding decent literature to lose myself in. Since I definitely don't want to read my textbooks for the fall or my mother's cache of smutty romance novels, I've surrendered myself to wandering a couple blocks to the library every few days.
Or at least "every few days" was the plan. Thus far in my summer vacation of boredom (maybe "bordation"? I'll work on it...) I have read three novels in five days. Four if you start counting from when I reclaimed by card number from the lady behind the desk.
Apparently my brain has had a dormant thirst for exercise all these years and has waited for a chance to flex it's synapses (see my use of a big word there?).
Be proud, Levar Burton.
I've even started on another book. It's just a little 300-pager, but I'll probably finish that today. I mean, I've got a solid four hours from now until I'm headed to a wedding. Not mine though, so don't worry ladies...
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