As an English teacher, I find it especially convenient that all classics are free. My recent scholarly reads include Gulliver's Travels and Leaves of Grass. They take me to other worlds - Lilliput and the land of the Yahoos. I dive in every chance I get, put the world behind me, and swim for my life through words that drag me under like the bore tide in Turnagain Arm.
Movies on TV are losing their realism for me. I think it's from watching to many over the past few months. I've started to order seasons of Weeds, Corner Gas, and How I Met Your Mother, in addition to Love Boat and Fantasy Island on Netflix. My tastes are varied and I supplement Netflix with current Amazon episodes of Grey's Anatomy and The Vampire Diaries. But, the escape found in TV shows is shallow and short-lived.
With a book, it requires my complete attention - mind, body, and soul have to be in sync. I can't flip through a catalog or make dinner or chat online while reading. It completely absorbs me. Because of that, I'm able to go to other worlds in an escape that's so complete, it becomes insatiable. And, the books draw me in more easily with every passing day. As I sink deeper into the lives of others through the words on the pages, I can leave my life behind. I'm no longer a teacher talking to myself in front of a roomful of blank stares. I don't have to think about the 50mph wind outside or the cold and snow creeping in under my front door as the temps dip to 30 below. With my dog curled at my feet, I no longer worry that she'll be shot by some rebel cop or teased by those middle school boys. The fact that I say fewer than 20 words each day to adults (in person) fades into the background. The void of having no TV channels doesn't matter. The oppressing feeling of isolation that comes from spending weeks within a 100 yard radius disappears.
I am there. I am on those pages. I am in Ireland or California or Lilliput or Homer. I am not sucked in. Truly, I have made it out.
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