A dramatic reenactment of my childhood...
Back in October and November, family members started fishing for Christmas gift ideas, despite the fact that I already had an Amazon Wish List that was four pages long.
“Are you still against getting an e-reader?” asked my sister-in-law, as she showed off her Kindle in its pretty pink case with the built-in book light. “What do you think about the Nook versus the Kindle?” asked my brother, later admitting that he was trying to get a feel for whether or not he should buy me one or the other.
I fiddled with my SIL’s Kindle, admitting that it was pretty neat… yet not for me. I told my brother about what I’d read on sites like Gizmodo and Engadget, and then declared my intention to avoid e-readers altogether. I tried to explain why I wanted to keep buying books, despite the fact that I was struggling with a lack of shelf space. I waved my hands around, trying to convey something indefinable, mentioning things like smell and wraparound bookshelves.
I’ll admit it. Most days, you have to pry me away from the computer screen with a crowbar. I flourish before its dull glow, pretending bravery with every word I type. It’s my safe space. It’s my livelihood. It’s my everything.
