I long for the days of yore...

I'm really hating the internet lately.

It's keeping me from reading from paper sources. I miss reading the newspaper in the morning. I miss looking at the obituaries to see how everyone passed on. I miss thumbing through magazines. These days everything has a blog. And, while convenient, it takes away from the comfort of sitting down on a big fluffy couch and trying to catch up on world politics or laying the comics out on the living room floor and trying to keep the good ones away from your lingering brothers and sisters.

Along with the internet comes my recent hatred for television.

I always get sucked into some horrible {read: awesome} lifetime movie or a repeat of SNL. And while these are sometimes funny, it makes me miss sitting in my bed on a rainy evening and reading a good book. My reading lately has only consisted of metro reads, which only amounts to about 45 minutes a day. Not enough to get anywhere in a decent book.

I guess I just miss the comfort of being lazy and doing some old-fashioned activity. I started reading a Book last night. I use the term Book lightly, because it is really a manuscript that was never published into a book. It is a record of one womans life, being a member of the Nazi party and mistreated by the Poles and Russians. I started it last night and could hardly put it down after 2 hours of reading. Learning about this womans life, how her mother was banished from her home as a little girl, forced east to Siberia by the Ural mountains and out of her large family was one of the only two to survive the starvation, sickness and cannibalism. Then by luck and the grace of one progressively thinking woman, she was given food and shelter and education. She met a german-polish man and proceeded to have four children, one of them being the woman who wrote the book. The atrocities she speaks of are amazing. What is even more amazing is she is still living, and is in the same ward as my Dad. She has all but lost her mind and talks only of this experience, according to my Dad. I really can't wait to get back to this book and read the rest, probably over the weekend. I really like books, to be able to feel the material in your hands. Especially this womans book - which is really just a large stack of 8 x 11 1/2 white paper. Something about lifting each piece of paper after I've read it feels so comfortable and nostalgic. Have any of you read any good life-changing books lately?