reading comprehension

My Erik has been admirably posting away every day on his new blog. Reading it gave me little snippets of his life that even I am not normally privy to. He tends to write more about a musician, artist, tv show, or topic in which he is interested, while I end up writing summaries of the day.

I don't want to be a day summaryist. I want to tell stories.

The thing is, I don't have a hobby or interest. I have five thousand kinda-interests and semi-hobbies.

When I was little, before that first epic moment when I touched a computer in 7th grade and sped down the irresistible path to becoming a programmer, I wanted to write. The whole time I went to school for computer stuff, I insistently studied writing and literature in parallel. I couldn't let go of my first dream.

Sometimes when my chosen career path brings disappointment, I think about living the dream. Is it still my dream, really? It's certainly not realistic, but that's no matter. Is it possible? Is it probable? Can I take steps toward that goal?

For now I'm looking at speed reading courses. There are so many books I've meant to read for years now, and the list is teetering, threatening to bury me. Do you have a success story? Should I take a class from the local community college, or just get a book from the library? It doesn't sound possible to learn speed reading from reading non-speedily.
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Sorry, I keep getting distracted. Today is the Premier Cup event here on the soccer fields at work, so large groups of sporty uniformed teenagers keep drifting right past my window. It's so odd. I guess I haven't seen that many gangly limbs, pizza faces, and terrible shaggy haircuts all in one place in a while. And that's saying something, living in Portland.