I finally finished reading a book. It's been f-o-r-e-v-e-r. Before starting this book I had been in such a place I absolutely couldn't read without turning it into a piece of research. There was no going off and spending hours (or two or three) reading for the pure enjoyment of skimming through words that took me away and let me go to places I wasn't, with people I don't know. I would get to know them by the end of the book but that was the fun of it. Except that I couldn't do that. The words and sentences and descriptions would be things I needed to remember to do or things I did not want to do later when I was writing. So I had to stop reading because it wasn't the fun past time anymore but more work. And it was a very negative experience because there were all sorts of flaws with everything I read because I knew there were 100,000 things wrong with everything I wrote. Talk about bad attitude. How could I possibly go on without being able to read? It was agonizing.
Somehow, it went away a few days ago and I was able to read an entire book without that heavy stigma of picking it to death to learn lessons that it wasn't written to give me.
And now I've finished the book. And now I can start another. I'm looking forward to it because that's what I do. Finish one book - immediately start another. Finally! It's been a month! It's been f-o-r-e-v-e-r!
TT
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