Ah, the weekend is over.
Forgive me, but given that we were suddenly blessed with a scorching hot, extra sunny weekend, I had to abandon my computer screen and make the most of things. Thus, my weekend was mostly spent in the garden, lying in the sun, turning bright pink, glass of Tequila Sunrise in hand, and a book being read.
Even with the blazing sunshine, I still manage to keep reading. Although it did give me a little moment of conscience debate, which I would like to share with you. Naturally.
The book I’m reading (full review to go on tomorrow) was not going particularly well. Pretty quickly, it was summarised what kind of book it would be, how it would spill out, and how much I’d enjoy it. A quick flick to Amazon saw a lot of reviews reflecting my own thoughts. So I turned my Kindle off, closed my eyes, and lay back.
If this book had been a film I was watching on TV, I probably would have shrugged and flicked over to something else quite quickly. As I’ve grown older, I’ve grown a little less patient with wasting my time on something that I don’t really enjoy (although, admittedly, I do find guilty pleasures in watching some absolute tripe every now and then).
And this was an unsolicited review. No one had asked me to read. No one had asked me for my thoughts. No one had said, “Hey, I’m struggling for reviews, could you help me out?” There were a surprisingly high number of reviews on Amazon. The author could live without me. The other readers and speculative customers could do without me. I could do without finishing the book, to be honest.
But, sitting there in the hot sun, sipping my Tequila Sunrise (I do make a nice Tequila Sunrise. Simple recipe here – crushed ice in the bottom of the glass, two shots of tequila, fill the glass up with orange juice, and 1-2 shots of grenadine poured in against the side of the glass. Pick the size of the glass to suit you, and how much orange juice you want for the flavour. Ditto the grenadine. If you want to change the colour, play with how you pour the grenadine in – Against the side, and it’ll sit all nice at the bottom, poured in and it’ll mix a little, swirl it for a nice colour), I thought a little more.
Do I have to finish reading this book? Really?
I wasn’t gripped by it. It was charming, sure, but clumsy with it. However, by not finishing reading it, by not finishing what I’d set out to do, I was letting myself down.
Clown (my own book, available now on Amazon – subtle hint), sat on my computer for far, far too long, because I just “never got around to it”. Which is appalling, really. If I gave up on this book, I would be perpetuating the habit of not finishing what I started, simply because I didn’t like it. And this was different to not finishing my meal, or my drink. This was an act which I enjoyed (reading), to support doing something else I enjoyed (writing – in this case, right here).
So, I made a decision. No more walking away from something I enjoy, simply because that little piece of it isn’t fun. It’s a pledge I’m making to myself, and will no doubt come to regret, but it’s a worthwhile trait to have – sticking-at-it-until-its-done-edness. Or something.
Review up tomorrow.