Behind the Ironic Column

Hi, my name is Brenda and I’m a book addict.  At least I think that’s what it is.  I begin to worry if I don’t have a book, or preferably books, to read.  I get anxious and my stomach tenses up at the thought of a bus ride or an airplane journey without reading material.  Not that it’s very likely that I’ll be in any such situation.  I have dozens of unread books in my apartment.  Plus a goodly number of classics that I can certainly reread.  Plus a stack of library books.  Not to mention the credit I have at my local bookstore. 

I spend nearly as much time deciding what book or magazine to carry with me on my errands as I do getting dressed to go out.  I don’t “need” to have something to read while standing in line at the post office but I feel slightly anxious if I don’t take something with me.  Maybe I’ll be stuck there for half and hour and just have to wait.  Lots of people do — they just wait.  I’m always slightly amazed when I’m sitting on a bus or a plane and the person next to me has nothing to look at.  These days almost everyone under 30 has an iPOD or some other music device and lots of people have computers.  But you still see a few that have nothing. 

It’s not that I have to read.  In fact, sometimes I don’t.  Sometimes I talk to people around me or sometimes I watch the scenery or stare into space.  It’s a good time to try meditation if you can screen out the distractions.  But, whether I read or not, I have to have the ability to do so.  You might say the printed word is my security blanket.

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