Happenstance and Tide Pools

I miss my blog, this one and the one at Jumbo Petite-I greatly enjoy reading the blogs of other more steadfast bloggers.  Perhaps I am simply not steadfast, or my monkey mind has grown to gargantuan proportions and I can no longer focus on anything more than a 140 character tweet-or a fly by status update on Facebook.  I am unsure if completing 316 levels of Candy Crush Saga is something brag worthy or requires locking away in my guilty pleasure closet, along with my stealth reading of my daughters copies of Cassandra Clare's shadow hunter series (both the period and modern day series) and my life long love of harlequin romances.  I used to be an avid reader; more so a book addict-an eight book a week habit that was never truly satiated.  An equal opportunity word-whore reading all genres. Anything within arm's reach was fair game-autobiographies, historical non-fiction,  classical fiction, modern fiction, poetry, science fiction, murder mystery and my guilty pleasure-harlequin romances. I would read 5 or 6 books concurrently, stacked on my bedside, bathroom, desks (home and office) with chocolate wrappers, parking receipts serving as bookmarks.   Sometimes I stealth read books of my roommates-while they were at class or at work. There were never enough books, never enough money for books, and never enough time to read them. I read and read and wanted to read more.  Then I stopped.  Stopped. I still read but more so as a comfort; my choice of books gifts or pure happenstance.  I stopped reading with ferocity and passion.  I miss the passion and romance I had with reading. This makes me sad.  I am thinking level 317 can wait.