"Till I come, give attendance to reading"

"This sentence, though, which comes after his warning to minimize the use of adverbs in your writing, may be my favorite: 'I'll concede this: The right adverb, fresh and adroitly placed, is one of life's finest small pleasures.'"

-"A Classic Non Textbook on Writing", James M. Lang

Writing, as has already been suggested, is becoming a rather important part of my life. Sometimes, it is easier than others.
I once had a friend who was convinced that he had, through "listening to the universe", discovered the meaning of life, and that it was the number 67. This, of course, greatly resembles certain plot lines in both Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide series, and the Jim Carrey's film The Number 23 (which I admit, I have never seen). I'm pretty certain that it has something to do with Oprah, as well. In any case, my friend let me in on his secret, insisting that now, having discovered the truth, he saw the number 67 everywhere. Furthermore, he discovered, through "listening to the universe" even more carefully, that the actual secret to life was not 67, but rather, simply the number 7. I suspect, by now, he has discovered, like the kings of the upanishads, that the real, real truth is actually 3, or better yet, 1.
Why, Gentle Reader, have I related this tale? Because, now that I have, for two weeks, explored in this space the subtle art of writing, my world seems full of writing references, articles on writing, articles about articles written about writing, and, of course, the painful process of writing itself, as I have a term paper due quite soon. Like my friend, having discovered writing about writing, I see it everywhere.
To the point where, frankly, I grow weary. Yes, writing is hard sometimes. Yes, undergraduates generally cannot write well. Yes, poetry is awesome. Enough.
So, in a effort to escape, I have found my thoughts turning, not to writing, but rather to reading. I have wanted, all week, to write that reading is the opposite of writing, the flip side, the white to writing's black. I am not sure this is the case, however. The two are either related in a more complicated way (I think this is true) or are too different to really be compared in this fashion (maybe. I am not quite convinced).
For the first time in a while, I find myself in the company of people who read. While I have always read, although I occasionally take breaks due to academia, I have not always had people to share my reading with. It is nice, for a change, to be able to do so. My recent return to both children's lit and poetry as reading material is in no small part due to this new development.
Is writing about reading to become the new writing about writing? I hope not, Gentle Reader. Although I suppose it depends on the whim of my Muse...