thehowe_v7.1

Well, here I am, sitting at my computer at 1:30 A.M. again. In the week since I've been home I've devoured three good books I've been meaning to read and a computer game I got off a buddy at college, but now I'm out of things to do. Maybe I'll read some of the so-so books I've been putting off for awhile. Sometimes I think that my love for reading is almost a curse. I mean, a really good book is the kind that totally sucks you in and takes you to another world for a few hours. Is this any different from alcohol or drugs? Reading's a way to escape the real world just as surely as drugs and booze are. Sure, reading doesn't kill you like they do, but I'm a perfect example of how too much reading and not enough human interaction can lead to social ineptness. Ah well, I guess everybody has to have their own way to escape from this bitch of a life for a little while. Luckily, mind doesn't happen to be one of the life-threatening ones.

On a totally different topic, it's interesting how I never end up writing what I intend to in these things. I was going to talk about how I've been reading more lately so I don't have to think about some of the less pleasant memories I associate with Ovid-Elsie, and I end up writing about the addictive effects of reading. Or something. Hell, I don't even understand what I wrote, so I certainly don't expect you too. Oh screw it, I'm going to bed.