I went to my childhood library today. Not to look at books or get a library card or talk to my favorite librarians or log on to play The Magic School Bus on the PC for thirty minutes, but for a meeting with a client through my business. Because I guess I’m an adult now.
Part of being an adult is being punctual. Or maybe that’s just me. My mom taught me from a young age that if you’re not five minutes early, you’re late. I arrived to my meeting twenty minutes early and awkwardly wandered around like a lost child, gazing at new installments and features and breathing in the library smell.
I still had a few minutes on the clock, so I wandered over to the New Titles shelf—-what used to be my favorite shelf. In a pessimistic cursory glance, I dismissed half of the covers sitting out, remembering negative reviews and poor scores on Goodreads and Amazon.
You know what I miss? The days of reading a book just because the cover was pretty or the description sounded good — no other information and no tainted preconceived notions from reading a two-star review and opinion. In many, many ways, this book blogging life and constant checking into Goodreads is amazing and fun and fulfilling.
But in others, it’s taken the simplicity out of the most simple thing I love to do — read.