We’ve all had those teachers. The ones where everything they introduce is golden. I once had a Chemistry teacher who dropped a giant chunk of Sodium in a vat of water and ran to the back of the room while the whole thing exploded. She returned to the front of the room and said nonchalantly, “I ran to the back of the room, because my hair is still a little wet from my morning shower and I didn’t want that happening in my hair!”
I’ve become a lazy reader.
I’ve always been a poor reader. I even received some help in grade school to improve this. Yet reading has remained a chore throughout my life even though most would consider me well read. I attribute the fact that I am well read to my middle class upbringing that held up those with who read to be the utmost in human achievement.
For a period of time I agreed with my upbringing. Amidst my sweat and struggle to wrestle with Howard’s End or the Awakening, I rose through the ashes with an enjoyment of the stories contained between the covers of these tomes.
Then came graduate school. I read, not for enjoyment, but to pass the classes. I missed stories, though, so I read comics and watched movies to get my story fix. But mainstream movies and even so-called independent comics can be a bit formulaic. I enjoyed most of what I came across, but film and comics just aren’t as old of a medium as the written word, so after a while, I felt like I’d read all the good comics and seen most of the good films made in English (and quite a few in foreign languages, too.)