The day I was abducted by aliens...

I only wish I'd been abducted by aliens. Or kidnapped by angry Russians and rescued by Liam Neeson. Or been taken to a far off country and been made their princess. I wish I could tell you that I was in a coma and made a miraculous recovery. I wish I'd done something... Anything noteworthy or of mention in these months of silence. Alas, The only explanation for my absence is this: I have been reading Harry Potter for these last seven months and sadly no, I am not joking.

I have a third grade reading level. With my head hung down in shame, I am able to admit it. I am not being humble or asking for pity, (prayers, however, I could probably use...) I am not exaggerating or stretching the truth in any way. I am simply, not a great reader. I never have been. In fact, in grade school, when we were asked to pick a book to read in two weeks on which a report was also required, I reached for the pamphlet entitled "changes to your body" only because I knew Curious George would not be acceptable. When told that the pamphlet was an equally unacceptable decision, I'd pick a thin chapter book. The kind with half page illustrations and 15 point font... double spaced. I still do not know what happened in the middle of said books. I knew the beginning, I knew the conflict, And I knew the resolution. Just enough to pass off a substandard book report. Unless of course, you were one of my English teachers, in which case this is strictly a fictional short story exploration...

I am not only a bad reader when in a dark room all alone. I would also create the most excruciating audiobook. When a teacher forces me to read aloud in Sunday school, I start to sweat. My heart starts to race. I need to give myself a twenty-three second pep talk (during which, I'm rightfully assumed to be insane...) and then, I start. All goes well for the first... Word. Then the stuttering happens, and I lose my place at least twice, and I skip the second line and am promptly told to "please read the correct verse" at which, the sweating increases. The heart beats faster and the tears begin to swell (my claim that it is the Holy Spirit touching my soul fools no one). Then, if by some miracle I make it through the correct verse, and the teacher happens to ask me a question... Forget it! I was a little busy concentrating on not needing to breathe inside the paper bag I keep stuffed down my shirt (because it's Sunday and most skirts don't have pockets...)

So, that is where I have been... Reading Harry Potter every night. Alone. In my bedroom. For seven months. Please Excuse me while I finally write a complete yet still substandard book report. Just to prove I can.

I am a little sorry this had nothing to do with aliens...

Phone home...

Jessica