Tuesday Mugshot
State Police out of Williamson reported stopping a Route 104 westbound...
I’m sure it comes as no surprise that I have an affinity for printed material. For example, I still like to read newspapers…yep…real newspapers. Sure, you’re more likely to find me on a website than you are to catch me with a newspaper in hand, however that’s due to convenience alone. There’s nothing like reading something in print.
I’ve written before on how printed words just feel more real. Something about feeling of the paper between your fingers and the smell of newsprint just makes things seem more familiar, and to a degree, more credible. Admittedly, I may be a bit biased since my family owns a paper, but I’d like to think I’d still feel the same way if circumstances were different.
Recently, my wife began reading. From the latest books that everyone is discussing, all the way to childhood development books. She didn’t do it because she had to, she wanted to.
It was a concept that seemed foreign to me. Reading…for pleasure? I stay current on news and read interesting pieces on a daily basis, but a book? An entire book? Without “having” to do so??
After a few weeks, I could tell she was really enjoying herself. She had a new area of discussion with several people, new knowledge and also likely an escape from the realities of being a mom all day long.
Intrigued by her new found hobby, I too decided some recreational reading was in order. However instead of Twilight or 50 Shades of Something, my choices would lean more towards the business side.
Having been out of school for a long time, I was beginning to feel…dumb.
I made a decision to dive in head first. I bought several books on a variety of topics that have interested me for a while now. From psychology to business strategy, and anything in between.
The books I bought are a far cry from the stuff my wife is reading, but the really interesting difference isn’t the topic. It’s the medium. Although I work on the computer all day, I couldn’t imagine reading that way.
While my wife has her Kindle, I have books. Real books. Complete with dust covers, potential paper cuts and most importantly, words on a page.
(Let this also serve as fair warning that during this time I will become increasingly smug with my newfound knowledge.)