My computer should arrive this evening!
It actually showed up yesterday while I was gone for a bit, knew that would happen.
I’ve logged on to my bank alt once and another alt in danger of losing mail.
Since my computer started it’s suicide spiral last weekend I have returned to reading and remembered why I don’t read much any more.
You see, I love books. I love reading.
Since last weekend I’ve read close to 3000 pages.
I’ve stayed up far later (or earlier) than I have while playing WoW.
When I pick up a book that I haven’t read before, I’m lost to it, enthralled by it – even if I don’t particularly care for it.
I can only recall closing 1 book with no intent to finish it, A Wrinkle in Time, back in elementery school. And even then it was more to spite an instructor that had no place in a position to shape minds as an educator. I can’t even recall what it was I found distasteful about the book. Maybe I should find a copy.
Reading becomes a compulsion for me. If it’s a book I’ve read before I’m able to shake myself free of its grasp and set the book aside to return to it later.
A new book? Almost impossible. It’s hard enough to stop at a chapter break. I read Clive Barker’s Imajica in 2 sittings, over 800 pages. The first was during the day. The second was when I got back up and finished it that night because I could find no sleep before it was ended.
I will read through slitted eyes, lids scarcely apart. When I finally can read no longer I dream that I read, the text printed on the inside of those very lids that shut me away from the pages.
I’ve been told that I can carry on a conversation with someone while I’m reading, much like the sort you can try to have with someone while they are watching TV. Nod and murmur in the right places and have no recollection of the discussion at all.
For years I cut back on my reading because it would frustrate my husband. Now, he reads more than I do.
But he’s able to put a book down.
In the middle of a sentence, he can put a book down.
And I cannot.
It’s a strange sort of addiction to have.
Gambling? Drinking? Shopping?
What’s even stranger is that WoW does not hold a similar compulsion to me.
I have trouble around TVs, the box with moving pictures is similar in compulsion to reading for me, but less so. Of course, there are days when a flashing light or soothing display of colors is enough to entrap my interest for moments at a time. There are days I wonder if I suffer (or enjoy) some small measure of brain damage.
I think it’s the interaction in WoW that keeps me more sane than when I read.
While reading, if it’s skillfully done, I feel the weight of the characters, I cheer the heroes on and rally against the villains in my heart.
But I no more control them than I control the sea. I can only hold on to the vessel of words and let it take me where it may.
In WoW, I have responsibilities and reactions to be accounted for. If I’m not awake I may die to a void zone, my hero’s life cut short through failure on my part. It demands more from me than being a careless passenger and so my mind knows that there are times it must be set aside so that I may return to the problem stronger, refreshed.
I’m looking forward to my return to WoW, I’m tired and need the rest.