I don’t read much these days, and I feel badly about that. I have a roll of about 10 blogs that come to my email inbox daily, and I’ll spend about five minutes perusing those at the start of the day, but my reading barely goes beyond that. I have subscriptions to Harpers and The Atlantic, and I carry issues around in my bag for weeks not reading them. Last week I actually read half of a Harper’s article in a restaurant, then walked out without the magazine.
So many books that I didn’t read/but there’s so much air I got to breathe (Matt & Kim)
And books? Forget about books. I read several chapters of the Kindle edition of this book over a recent vacation, but since then I’ve barely picked it up again. Of course, cooling on reading doesn’t stop me from acquiring more books.
I never felt completely honest describing “reading” as one of my hobbies, because the truth is my attention span is short, and I tend to read when there’s nothing else to do. Like on airplanes. I devour books on airplanes.
All the same, I used to read quite a bit. It feels like the time I used to spend reading, though, now goes to blogging, editing a podcast, or making some kind of progress on a project, like sending an email or organizing a spreadsheet. And while I feel badly about reading so much less, I feel pretty good about these other projects. I’m not trolling Facebook instead of reading; I’m working on stuff.
Maybe some spark will ignite a love of long, uninterrupted periods of reading again in the future. It’s gone now.