In giving up Facebook, I’ve found myself doing more of something that I absolutely love: reading.
I’m not exactly sure why I let myself slip into a morass with Facebook. I don’t use other forms of social media with such zeal. Real Me tweets at a moderate pace (the TTC Writer account seems useless), and I keep my Goodreads account updated. Yet I spent so much time on Facebook. Looking back on it, I wonder if I was just torturing myself for no discernible reason.
And it was showing in my reading. It was taking me about a month to finish a book.
Since I dropped off of Facebook, I’ve cut that down to a week per book. Still not up to my usual standards (three days seems about right for 2011-2013 TTC Writer), but much better. It’s allowing me to enjoy the books more (when I drag them out, I lose interest) and move onto new things in a relatively quick fashion. I’m gearing up to enjoying books again — for a while, it seemed like a task!
It was a task, though. As a member of a volunteer book review, I was overwhelmed with all things book for a while. When tensions at the gig started rising for both my husband and I, I enjoyed my literary endeavor less and less. I stopped looking at upcoming books; I grudgingly proofed reviews and wasn’t piqued to add any books to my to-read list (fact: the reviews aren’t that good); I stopped reading reviews in other pubs. I battled with other volunteers who disregarded what I did, yet pressured me to do it quickly so things could post ASAP.
In December, my husband resigned. At the same time, I said I would be reducing my role. In January, after going through painful convolutions with the person replacing my husband, I found someone to take my place. In April, I officially resigned.
Anyway, back to Facebook. I feel like Facebook was maybe my way of escaping my volunteer duties. I certainly let it fill up the time that I saved when I resigned. It’s like I was still glued to the computer and chose interacting with friends and acquaintances as the best way to use my time. I was trying to make connections, but all I got was people talking about their babies, going on about how perfectly pregnant they were, and people announcing new pregnancies each day.
I’ve been immersed in the TTC world; it was time to limit my exposure. And in doing so, I got back to the friends who wouldn’t announce surprise pregnancies (unless I read chick lit, which, not a fan): books.
Evenings after dinner, my husband and I have been sitting in companionable silence, books in hand. For the past few nights, I’ve found myself drifting off while reading—probably one of the best ways to fall asleep. Last weekend, we dragged chairs outside and sat in the sun while reading. It’s becoming a centerpiece of my life again, and it’s once again something my husband and I share.
My brain is slowly surfacing when it comes to things literary. At work, my writing is getting stronger after being underutilized for a long while. At home, I’m delving into the books in front of me instead of reading them superficially. In my mind, I’m playing with new ideas for stories and novels.
I hope this translates to the blog soon. I love analyzing books, taking critical looks at what I’m reading. It’s a skill I haven’t been using lately, and it’s one of the things at which I’m best.
Give me a few more books. Hopefully one will emerge, good or bad, that is begging for a review.