I was trying to make my overflowing bookshelves more orderly before a visitor stopped by my home and I was disappointed at how many of those books I have not yet read (or have started but have not yet completed). I've always had a lot of books, and it was a point of pride years ago that I had read almost every one of the texts on the shelf. But then I allowed all these things to get in the way of just reading for fucking fun like I used to, and my house started to be haunted by the Unread. Because naturally I let myself stop reading as often but somehow that didn't also stop me from purchasing books. I did do what I refer to as a book buying diet for a while to save money, but I could only suppress the craving for so long.
Anyway, this leads me to my point: I was thinking about all the books I still want to read and the motivation is there; it has returned full force. Now, the only enemy is time. I shouldn't say 'only' as if it's a small thing; in life, time is seldom small thing. But I mean if I had the hours in a day, I would incorporate more reading into it. So it got me fantasizing about a life in which I was given a year to just read. Like, that was my job but not really a job. I didn't have to report on them or judge them or anything at all unless I felt inclined. I was just given 365 days to read whatever I wanted and I had no other obligations or commitments unless I wanted them, and things like rent and bills and food would be taken care of so I wouldn't need to trouble myself with such things as basic survival. Each day and all day I would just read, starting with the books on my shelves and then tasting a few of the hundreds of books on my TBR list that haven't been bought only because I'm not wealthy enough to do so. Imagine how much wiser and more interesting (albeit socially withdrawn) I'd be after reading millions of words.
Yes, I realize how nerdy this would be and it only makes me want it all the more. It's impossible, but a girl can dream.