Into Every Generation...

Only four days into my project and already I'm asking myself "What kind of frivolous distractions have been keeping me from reading like I used to? What have I been doing that was so important as to keep me from the written word?" I am thoroughly enjoying Inkheart. It's about a girl whose father can pull characters directly from the pages of books if he reads the story aloud. It's casting quite a little spell on me. See, I have the most fabulous bed. It's ginormous, frankly. If I lie in the middle of it with my arms reaching for the sides, they still don't quite make it. It's an island in the middle of my room, a giant ship, and while lying back, reading Inkheart, I almost feel it gently rocking me. Of course, it's being circled by the little grey Bella-shark, with her sharp teeth and fin-like tail, just waiting to bite my ankle should I dare to dangle a leg overboard...

Maybe my whole purpose here on your planet is to read. I drive myself crazy some days trying to figure out the point to all this. Maybe that is just it. Some people sing. Some people write. I was meant to read. And I don't just read. I ingest books. I can feel them humming with life on the shelves all around me at work. Call it heavy influence of the Buffyverse, but I think I may be the chosen one. I am destined to face all printed pages, break the spines of all the books I come up against, take the burdens of ink and paper upon me. Yes, the more I think about it, the more I am convinced. I am the Book Slayer...and Tom Holbrook is my watcher.