This is a confession of sorts because I feel perhaps it only applies to me. Reading has become for me, guilt ridden. For years I have used and fueled my love of reading by studying it in school and then later college but the pressure this put on my reading, the manner in which I was told to read and the time frame I was given to do it meant that certain books now hold a reputation they do not deserve and others were thrown to the side because there. Simply. Was. Not. Time. I have not used the last 5 years to read widely and greatly, I’ve used it to keep afloat. This blog is a testament to that. It should be filled with theories and analysis because that’s what I love to do but each time I go to pick up a book or write, a voice in my head says “uh uh, shouldn’t you be doing somehing for credit?“. I’ve decided recently to become a teacher, to go back to the basics of what I love and teach people to love them naturally to warn young enthusiasts to guard their love and passion for their interests and do not let the world take and abuse them in the name of grades and credit. I sound more bitter than I am, I sound as bitter as I should be. But I’m too stuck within the system, I have literally bought into it and it drives my thought process with guilt and pressure. Come May 7th I will have finished my undergraduate career. It has been a dream but in many ways not in the way it could have been in terms of English. History has, of course, outdone itself. But then I went into college with a vision of the amazing things my new English department would offer me, I didn’t with History (guess which one disappointed me).