Tattoo Artist Of Books

I recently made the decision to not read any new books for the rest of the year. Instead, I am hitting the rewind button and re-reading the books I flew through in years’ past. Ashamedly, I did not read my first book cover to cover until I was 25 years old. I limped through high school and college without ever reading an entire book; Uncle Cliff [Notes] and I were real close. In my race to catch up with all of the years I missed reading, I blew through books. I was in a hurry to finish one only to leap onto the next one; I even set yearly goals to read 12, 24, then 36 books per year- as if I would get called to receive an award for most improved reader. The 12 years I have been reading has re-shaped my life; I also confess, in those 12 years,  I’ve forgotten more in those books than I can remember.  Some books I can’t remember ever putting my paws on some of them; had it not been for an occasional highlight here and there, there would be no evidence of me ever reading them. 

 I’ve decided to become a slow, tattoo artist of my books.  I’ve begun to slow down and re-read the titles that peak my interest and mark them up. I no longer treat my books as a shrine; if I want to highlight, scribble, draw smiley faces, or anything I feel lead to do I will-after all, I’m on my time and they were bought with my dime. Just as ink is injected into the skin leaving an indelible mark on the body, so to will I ink up my books. Inking up books leaves 2 things: 1) the scribbles, highlights, and notes you leave on the page get inked into your mind 2) the tattooed books are the footprints of important things left behind for your loved ones to remember you by.

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