I don’t believe I’ve made anything resembling a secret of the reading that I have done and am doing. In addition to the stuff I read for my day-job–gotta love the US tax code!–I do a fair bit of reading for my side-line work of writing lesson plans. (Teachers, if you need some support with this, let me know; my rates are reasonable, and I’ve been in the classroom enough to have an idea of how things might actually work.) Less common of late has been reading for other reasons, whether for study (outside of work, for which I do have some continuing education requirements that I’ve been addressing reasonably well) or for pleasure. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve been trying to correct that last, squeezing in some reading time as I can.

It’s admittedly not easy. I don’t have the time to devote to outside reading that I used to; when I lived in New York City, I had an hour-long commute to work, yes, but most of that was on a train that would allow me to do at least some reading. When I was in academe as a full-time thing, it was expected that I would do a lot of reading; it was something for which I could easily justify making time, especially since I was making a (faltering, inept) go of being an English professor. Before that, well, I was a student, and study–or what looked like study–was expected and encouraged, and I did not fail to meet those expectations or to accept that encouragement. But since then, there have been other, more pressing and more appropriately pressing demands on my time, and so I have let go of many things I used to treasure in favor of other things that I value more.

I do not regret the choice to do so, of course (although I do regret spending as much time scrolling social media as I have, turning to ease to numb myself rather than to addressing myself to text to improve myself–and even pleasure reading offers some self-improvement, building facility with and stamina for dealing with text as it does). I would make it again if it presented itself; I expect that it will present itself again, in some form or another, and I will have the opportunity to suit my deeds to my words. But a thing not regretted can still be lamented, and I am aware that I am lessened by my not having been better about having a book in my hand than I have been.

I am, as noted, trying to correct that. There are some times that I could read that I didn’t, and I’m trying to put them to better use. For example, when I am on the treadmill at the gym–I do still try to go to the gym several times a week; my health demands it, as does my intention to push back as far as I can the day that I can’t pick my daughter up anymore–I can read through some book or another I pull down onto my phone. Unless they’re for work, they’re usually not “deep” reading–there have been some exceptions, which I have greatly appreciated–but any reading is helpful reading. (Yes, even the thinly-veiled pornography. Negative examples are useful.) And it’s better for me to do that than to stare mindlessly at recaps of last night’s sports events that I can’t hear and aren’t captioned, so…better use of my time.

I suppose I ought to ruminate more fully and with greater focus on the readings I do in that venue or in similar circumstances. Much as I have enjoyed reading throughout my life, I find that I very much like to write (and I hope that that liking shows through); it’s good to have more about which to do it.

Help me keep writing by having me write for you!

Or you can send your support along directly!