Persistence.

So today I happened to do something I don't often do: I finished two books within about a two hour span of each other.

No, I don't read that fast, I just happened to be reading two books simultaneously and each happened to reach their end today.

But here's the kicker of the whole situation: I can't say that I exactly liked either of them. I won't go into details regarding which books they were or anything like that lest I invite backlash and criticism about my snobbish tastes in books, but it got me thinking. Why is it that I can devote hours of my life to something I'm just sort of ho-hum about? It's not like I had high expectations for either of them, or was especially looking forward to reading them - both were more of a matter of curiosity. But still, I can't help but wonder why -- I guess I was hoping that the books would get better. I was hoping the author would suddenly have a change of heart and write a chapter or two that might strike my fancy.

At this point, however, it is curious that books are one of the few things I will wait on like that. I will skip around albums mercilessly, passing judgment based on as little as about thirty seconds of actual listening. Even with people, I don't think I'd give folks as much time as I'd give a generally boring or uninteresting book. Eh, I guess at least for all my effort in reading the books not only can I now roll my eyes with meaning if and when I hear them mentioned, I have no worry of recourse as to the book defending itself or going on the offensive on me.

Does this make me justified in my gripes, or just a jerk? I can't really say anymore.