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Come to think of it, I have not read one single book of any redeeming intellectual value, ever.

When I was in college, I read a few books that were assigned, but never finished any of them. The autobiography of Fredrick Douglas? I think I read a chapter. The Great Gatsby? I read all of chapter one, some of chapter two. I think. My senior year of college, I didn�t even buy the text books. I got the course packs and workbooks so that I could do any assignments or papers, but the books? Not so much. There were only two classes I ever read the books front to back for, and those were my History of Life biology book the first semester of my freshman year, and the screenplay (American Beauty) assigned to my screenwriting class. I managed to pass every class with decent grades, and I think that�s because I took pretty good notes and have an aptitude for standardized and essay tests. Also, it�s possible I�m a genius.

It�s not that I didn�t try to read the material�I did. For the first three years of school, I bought all the materials required and did sit down to read them. But cor, I�d get through one paragraph and start thinking about something else and by the time I realized I wasn�t paying any attention to what I was �reading,� I was ten pages in and could only remember the first few words.

But I�m getting off the point.

The point is, the books I read add absolutely nothing to my knowledge of the world, and do little to expand it. The closest I get to anything resembling information that would do so, are the forewords of Michael Crichton books.

Here are some of the titles of the books I�ve read in the last couple of months: Shopaholic Ties the Knot by Sophie Kinsella, Queen Bee of Mimosa Branch by Haywood Smith, Mr. Maybe, Bookends and Jemima J by Jane Green. Baggage by Emily Barr. Sue Grafton�s O, P, and Q, and the ubiquitous Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Now, I realize that for most of us, reading is entertainment, and these novels are of course all entertaining. But shouldn�t I be reading someone�s theory on something else, or a scathing review of the downfall of our society today? I feel like I should be reading up on how to get a job (does Employment for Dummies exist?), or the best way to write a killer screenplay or caring for orchids or something that�s plot doesn�t involve a single scorned woman and her search for love through unlikely yet hilarious means?

The last few times I�ve gone to the bookstore, I�ve endeavored to expand my literary horizons but left with a mocha and Us Weekly. Is there something wrong with me? Am I going through a phase? Have you read The Booty Diaries, and can I borrow it?

�I�ve wounded my own pride. It sucks.� � My friend Lynda (call me, Lynda!)