I’ve always loved books. I remember back when I was a kid; I first fell in love with Archie comics. I’ve always wanted to be Betty because she’s always so considerate and sweet and giving. But of course, in the end, I ended up being more like Veronica. Minus the rich part. Hahaha.
Anyway, I kind of am reminded that I have a book backlog when I got home from work today and saw a pile of books I was supposed to read. Before MAP started, I joined this community online whose goal is to finish 50 books in a year. I managed to complete that list, and shared quite a handful of reviews, but because I decided to become more serious in planning for my future (or at least having a plan), I only got to complete 50 books for a year. BUMMER.
And this is my stinking pile.
At some point, it did become depressing. I really love reading. I actually see JK Rowling as a heroine because she made kids fall in love with reading again. I am so thankful for books because they fueled my imagination. And I would hate to neglect my first teachers, but I already am.
Contrary to the saying, I really do judge a book by its cover. I want the cover to age with me: gracefully. I want a cover that will actually look like it’s been touched and felt by time. A cover that remains uncovered, so that as the book is borrowed and passed on from one reader to another, their hands leave an imprint on the cover. And the book would know it’s been read.
Most people find that weird, and most people disagree with my “care” (or lack of). Most people would cover them with plastic and preserve the crispness of the pages. Not me. I imagine myself being 60 and my floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall bookshelves filled with books with yellowed pages. Hmmm. Perfect.