read.

It’s amazing how easily I forget how much I enjoy some of my favorite activities. Reading, for example – I was a bookworm of a kid growing up, and it’s probably my favorite relaxation technique still. Unfortunately, it tends to be one of the first things I give up when I get busy. A couple of weeks ago, with the craziest semester I’ve had in the last few years coming to a close, I intentionally picked up a non-informational novel and buried my face in it for a few days. It surprised me more it should have that I immediately felt better. I don’t think I’ll ever find anything that will replace the therapeutic effect of curling up in a soft blanket with a cup of coffee and the creative inner workings of someone else’s mind.

Reading makes me feel like myself. I become more attuned to the reactions of people around me after analyzing even fictional characters, and I’m almost instantly more observant. I actually feel like a more interesting person to talk to. There’s something about filling my brain with someone else’s carefully edited vocabulary and sentence structure that improves my ability to express myself.

How many times have you heard someone defend a film adaptation with the line, “Trust me, the book is SO much better…” I think the truth of the matter is that movies and television really do act like anesthesia. They force pictures complete with color and tone and inflection and detail and context into your head, requiring nothing beyond sensory acceptance. You are an incredibly inactive link in the transmission of information. When you read a novel, the thing you need is your eyesight to take in the typed words on the page. The beauty of literature is that a good writer can use simple language to create multi-sensory world entirely conjured by the reader’s imagination. Ink and paper actually inspire a more intense experience than hours of light and motion on screen because almost everything has to be invented by the reader. The greatest writers are those whose works have the ability to lead you into exactly the places and feelings they plan for you while maintaining a heavy dependence on individual imagination.

When I get too boring, please hand me a book. I think I’m starting to understand how effective a cure it really is for my occasional mathematically-induced comas.