A woman I used to know once told me, "I used to read books all the time, for years. And I loved it. But in the past year I figured out that all that reading didn't do anything for me. It didn't make me a better person, it didn't illuminate the human condition, it didn't do anything except take me out of my life for a few hours. I don't read at all anymore. And now when I think about it, I think … I want that time back."

I'm paraphrasing/rewriting history, of course, but you get the idea. At the time I sort of agreed. I too had spent a lot of valuable time reading books and whether I liked the book or not, it still took up time. After a few years I got back into reading and now read with some frequency. Part of why I feel like I wasted time is due to my revelation that I was reading a lot of highbrow stuff and darn it all, I just don't like that stuff. So most of what I read now is a bit further down on the pulp scale: nonfiction mostly, with an ear for the lurid, some educational (true crime, how to survive in prison, etc.) That helped a lot. But I also tend to read only when I'm on the train or before I go to sleep. As Charlie Brown once commented, "When I have absolutely nothing else to do, I enjoy reading." It's something like that.

Anyway, my point is, I think I used to read because I thought it would elevate me somehow. Maybe it did, but I don't think I liked the person it was raising me to. That is, I think I wanted to be a pompous doofus; I may have been a pompous doofus in many cases. Possibly this was not reading's fault, but a lot of the time I think my choices in life have been based not on what I truly wanted, but what I thought I should want. My friend's comment about books just put a fine point on that thought for me. And it makes me wonder how many other things still dictate my decisions (for instance, do I really care about nicely finished hardwood floors?) I suppose societal pressure is a necessary force to keep us from going cannibal or something, but when I think how much of my time has been spent in its service, I get annoyed. I want that time back.

But then again, who's to say if left to my own devices I wouldn't spend 23 hours a day on the couch, watching King of Queens marathons? Maybe I can't be trusted to run my own life. Not completely. Maybe there's a nonfiction book on the subject.