Revisiting my former second home

I went to the library yesterday after work. Not really sure why, I just felt like I needed to go.  Sure, I’ve kept the rest of myself pretty busy with this smoothie job, but maybe my mind also misses keeping busy and staying active.

I’ve spent more than enough time at the library in college, but I never went there when I actually wanted to read a book for fun. Who has time for free reading in college? And it’s been ages since I’ve been to my hometown library. I don’t think I’ve been there since I was working on my senior project in high school. But when I was a kid, I spent so much time in the library. I devoured books whole as a 7-year-old addict (completely true) to the written word. Now 22, I’ve surrounded myself with words. When did I stop appreciating them?

Walking in the library brought both familiar (not much had changed; they still had the same ugly carpet) and fresh (when have I ever seen so many books and want to read them all) feelings at the same time. There were so many books. I felt like someone in the Middle Ages after Gutenberg just invented the printing press.

I wanted to get some books on journalism and new media, but could only find one. Maybe it’s something so new and developing that people haven’t written enough books about it yet, or more likely, our library isn’t with the times.

But who says books are on their way out? Definitely not with me. There’s just something more real when I am sitting reading an actual book instead of reading it on the Kindle. Something about the feel, smell and sound of the paper pages turning makes it seem more real for me.