confessions of a bookaholic

I love to read probably more than a sane person should. If I am in the middle of an exceptionally good book, I will choose reading over watching TV, movies, or sometimes even hanging out with other people. I will curl up in my papasan chair (which I bought for $5 at a garage sale) with a blanket and not move for hours, and when I finally get up my legs won't support the rest of me because my knees give out from being bent for so long. It's pathetic, really.

And I am one of those people who reads books more than once. In fact, some books I read more than twice. I can't count how many times I've read some of my favorite books. I just finished re-reading Pride and Prejudice for the second time (the first time was in high school, so it doesn't really count). It's a tough read. At least this time I understood what was going on.

I would rather read than do just about any other activity. If I am not in the midst of reading two or three books at a time, I am lost. I have to go to Borders. Or I will be forced to reread something from my library, which cannot all be contained in my apartment. It's true. I had to store books at my parents' house. They can't wait until I have my own storage space.

I claim that it's their fault, though. My dad (a combination professor-pastor) is also a bookaholic. One entire wall of his office is lined with books. In my family, books are a more-than-acceptable gift. In fact, we usually give each other a list of books before any major gift-giving holiday. We collect books like other people collect more normal things--video games, movies, trophies, etc. I have long been aware that we are somewhat freakish in this regard, an awareness which was heightened the first time I brought Lucas home to meet my parents. He thinks we're all freaks.

Lately I have made a rather comforting discovery. I am not alone.

There are other bookaholics in the world. I just started reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott (a book on writing) and compared to her I seem a little more sane than I originally thought. Other people are freakish too.

I think that all any of us want in life is not to be alone in our freakdom. I am so relieved that other people wallow in the world of books, trading reality for the pages of a different reality.

I, of course, know the difference between fiction and reality. I'm not THAT bad.