Going by my place this far, probably ~140 some pages into That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 1 (light novel), I can’t help but think there’s still hope for me yet.

When I was a kid, I was the kind that could binge read Dune and its appendexes with Glee. As an adult I find that I don’t tend to consume many books. Much inverted as well, in that as a kid there was always a shortage of novels to read and as an adult my reading list is never zeroed.

Over the past lustrum I’ve generally noticed a pattern of sorts. Where games, TV, or books tend to consume what passes for my leisure time in cyclic spells rather than simultaneously. E.g. for a few months you’re more likely to find me in front of a game than the others; for a few months you’re more likely to find me watching videos than the others; and so on.

For the most part that doesn’t tend to bother me much. My queues are always filled leaving me with the questions of what do I have time for and what do I want to do: not a lack of content. But how wacko the graph of my reading habits would look over the past twenty years or so is kind of worrisome.