I don't read enough...

I've considered myself "a reader" since before I myself could read.  To put it simply, I love stories.  I recently finished The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly and was totally enthralled to watch the stories David has treasured since childhood come to life and metamorphosize into the world of the Crooked Man.  I couldn't put the book down.  Even as an English teacher, however, such immersion reading is rare for me.  As I get older, I find that I have less time to devote to reading, and I have become incredibly picky about not only what I'll pick up but what I'll finish reading.  In the past year I've put down several "good" reads, either because I lost interest, or I let too much time pass before I was able to return to the book.  Recent castaways include: The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand), Hot, Flat, and Crowded (Thomas Friedman), and Emma (Jane Austen).  It's not that I wasn't into the book, but perhaps I just quit caring. 

Every so often I attempt to re-commit myself to literature.  I'm presently in one of those states, and I find that it's nearly impossible to dealve into a book and maintain any sense of normalcy in my life.  I'd rather stay up all night to finish a great book than get some sleep and save the book for later.  Over the holidays I parked myself on a the couch for a thorough re-read of the Twilight Saga (Stephenie Meyer) and Harry Potter 6 & 7 (J.K. Rowling).  I averaged a little over a book a day; grated this ceratinly can't be considered heavy reading, similar behavior is present when I'm reading anything I truly enjoy.  So maybe what I'm looking to do now is to find a happy medium between my compulsion to devour an entire book without leaving my seat and the need to maintain a "normal" routine.  At any rate, the next candidate for potential rejection is Dave Eggers You Shall Know Our Velocity which comes highly recommended by two friends.  I'm hoping to start the book and get a reasonable amount of sleep tonight.  We shall see...