Thursday, November 10, 2011

the reading gene

There must be a reading gene, and I must not have it.

Because truthfully, I cannot remember the last book I read. Even more bizarre, I honestly don't think I have EVER finished a it a novel, a textbook, or even a book of sudoku.

But the weirdest part, is that I think I would LOVE to be a be one of those people who has a reading list, to sit in a Starbucks or on a lawn chair in the sun with a book... it totally sounds like someone I'd want to be.  

Call it déclassé all you want, but the truth is, I'd rather do almost anything than read a book. I'm sure the sound of Paramount credits starting up gives me the same satisfaction that a book-worm would get from turning the very first page.

I would also liken the way I reference the scenes in my favourite movies, to the way my past English professors would call upon a classic piece of literature. They can conjure up a quote the same way I can tell you a specific line, where it was said, and exactly how it was delivered. Nods, nudges, winks, awkward steps back and forth, background music cues...I remember it all.

Sometimes I get concerned that too much of my memory bank is being used to store all this stuff. But then the phrase "this stuff" reminds me of that scene from A Walk to Remember where Jamie bites her lip and says (okay, I'm stopping...).

Since I can't imagine feeling this way about the characters in books, I'll think I'll choose to believe that there is a reading gene, blame it on my genetics, and come to terms with the fact that this is probably the closest I'll ever get to a stack of books on the nightstand...