Last time I was reading a trashy novel everything felt difficult and lonely otherwise and it was a wonderful refuge; this time the world outside is different, but it's still nice to lose myself in a novel I'm reading for the plot that carries me along. It's nice to have for subway rides and for late at night in bed and for when there is too much going on in my house for me to concentrate and think, or there is too little time to start a project, but the other things happening are not quite engaging. So I read my book and the time flies by.
Other things that make it fly:
- reading things online, things about the Obamas and things about people and relationships and bodies, things I find at digg.com or divinecaroline.com or at Slate magazine or Salon magazine.
- walking in the lovely evening air
- having too much to do (this is such a guaranteed time-flying-maker!)
- eating things, but of course I am trying not to go there (although of course I can twist this around, make it work for me, and make and eat wonderful things with vegetables and fruits and yummy things to drink that don't have calories, and things that do have calories and points but are nutritious and positive in every way)
- writing, actually.
[Another topic entirely, perhaps, is what is this category of trashy novel? I'm seeing it as a novel I wouldn't recommend to anyone, a novel I'm embarrassed to have people know I'm reading, a novel I buy at the drugstore or grocery store (!) not the bookstore, and a novel that is all about plot, but a plot apparently quite often, from what I am finding, that belongs on a daytime soap opera. // But cleverly I'm reading these things in German so that, aside from making my hours go by in a blur of happiness, I am also improving myself!]