Turning pages

When I was young, I used to love to read. All the time, almost any book, I would just read it right up. In elementary school I pretty much rocked the house with Accelerated Reader points, if you can remember that far back. In fact, I had more points than anyone in all of the sixth grade, until a girl named Sarah decided to read Anna Karenina to pass me in points. I thought, if she's going to read that big-ass book, she can have it. After those days of glory, I got so involved with school activities until the end of high school that reading outside of school almost never happened. Then of course came college (all nine years of it) and I was reading all of the time, but, with the exception of my Philosophy of Literature and Aesthetics courses, almost nothing that I ever actually wanted to read.

Now I have reached the days of almost-normalcy, with the dissertation so close to being done. I have my textbooks nicely arranged on my bookshelf, and I scoff at them. Instead, I'm finally reading fun books again, and with a passion rivaled only by my glory days of sixth grade. I've learned about Australia, Alaska, bicycles, 19th century lady pioneers, pie-baking, Captain Cook and the woes of scurvy, and the social hierarchy of Saudi Arabia. I've read fiction, re-read some of my favorite books (ahem, A Far Cry from Kensington by Muriel Spark), travel adventures, and poetry. I'm actually starting to kind of feel smart again.

Now all I need is a book club. And like BJ posted earlier, look me up on Shelfari and give me some book ideas!