I didn’t read any novels last year; down from one in 2016, 13 in 2015, 11 in 2012, five in 2013, and 21 in 2012. I tend to read fun stuff more when I travel to fill in empty time and I tend to study for classes when I’m home to build my career up. Up to what? I don’t know. I have no calling, no drive to service. I seek uninterrupted free time. I am my most happy and content self when time and money are abundant, even if only in bursts. It feels like childhood again. All my needs met while I lazily watch I Love Lucy and laugh. Not a care in the world.
Books are too dramatic when I’m home in my career state. I’m disillusioned by how the author just throws obstacles at their protagonists. I have enough problems to solve in my real life, I can’t handle being kept even more in suspense while some fictional character solves problems that wouldn’t have existed if their author hadn’t bothered to write them down. I need practical reality in my career state. I’m focused on my optimal level of success, not hanging out in la la land while my student loan perpetually charges me more money on funds I spent 8 years ago.
Financial mountain climbing. Of course I take breaks, but they’ve not been so satisfying for the past 6 years since student loan reality set in. They’ve been necessary to pace myself, but they’ve prolonged this torment due to the Sisyphus effect they have on my mountain climbing. Three steps forward, two steps back. Not quite like Sisyphus, thank fully because I haven’t had to start all over each time.
I did buy a book the other day… and I am half way through it. I can feel my other self waking up a bit. I’ve only got three point five weeks to freedom, so maybe it is about time I start to color my world a bit more.