for the love of reading

I kinda feel like I don't know how to read anymore. Me. The reader.

The one who used to keep track of every book that she read (only for like 6 months) when she was a (super dorky) teenager.
The one who routinely was laughed at by her brothers (which secretly hurt) because she would read the same books that she really liked repeatedly.
The one who prided herself on reading Gone With the Wind in 10 days (basically 100 pages/day).
The one who used to think that she didn't fulfill some sort of reading quota unless she did read 100 pages a day (especially during the summer).
The one who secretly loved the library's summer reading program because they gave away free books just for reading (free stuff for doing what she was already doing! sweet!!).
The one who would love being by herself down in her parents' basement so that she could watch baseball games and read (double tasking and yes, she still does this, just not in her parents' basement anymore) to the point that she sometimes anti-socially did this rather than hang out with her friends (really, what were they doing anyway?).
The one who will now admit that she reads more often than not by moving her mouth (yes, she truly believes that this helps her read faster and focus better and no, it's not the same thing as reading out loud and yes, it does also secretly hurt her feelings when she is teased about this).
The one who is super duper happy that her husband is a reader (yeah, they each took books on their honeymoon and spent time every day just reading with each other...awww cute).
The one who majored in English with concentrations in literature and writing as well as Secondary English Education at Manchester.
The one who is almost (big cheers) done with a masters in English Literature.
The one who ranted on here not too long ago about reading & the lack thereof (or the lack of priority given these skills) in our society.

Basically, I'm a reader, can'tcha tell? I mean, I even pretend to be profoundly funny with the title of the blog. And so my newest realization: I have largely forgotten how to enjoy reading. It's been rather pushed to the back of my priorities these past few years. I mean, I've tried treating it like a daily routine and forcing myself to read every day, like before bedtime, but that just feels like punishment or a mundane task, like brushing and flossing. Now, when the fall semester ends, Winter Break flies by and I realize that I haven't read a book for 2 weeks.

Darn you college & teaching: you've ruined me. If I'm not the reader, then I'm going to have to find a new hobby and perhaps a new identity? Maybe I'll take up the cello (this could lead to a multi-part blog post; my next one will be about the bassoon).