A secret blog containing the ramblings of a secret someone...
I love books. I can hardly walk into a bookstore without buying something. It's terrible, I know. But, what is most terrible about this condition is that my love for books keeps me from reading them. I have an ever-growing list of books to read, I keep a little list, even. But, I keep deviating from the pile. And then, I get so excited about a new book, that I can't finish the one that I am currently reading. But, I hate not finishing books. I have been reading this one book for about a month (maybe two, I've lost track), now, and I just can't seem to finish. I feel really awful resigning it to a life back on my over stuffed bookshelf having not even given the last 100 pages a chance, but I just feel as though I am wasting my time on a book that I can't get into when there are so many others to read. My mom has the same condition as me, however, the difference is that she actually finishes her books. Thus, we have a never-ending stream of new and interesting books that come in and out of our house. I had all the best intentions to read Book X next, but then, I found Book Y hidden on the coffee table, and I am just so conflicted! Does it matter if I switch around my book schedule? Do the books really care? Silly, I know. But, sometimes I'm just not sure. Well, I haven't bough Book X yet, so I just might start Book Y tonight. But, then, there is another book sitting on my bed right now begging to be read. Complications! Wow.