The attention span of a five-year-old

Right now I’m supposed to be in the middle of editing this radio news program for class, but I have somehow been sidetracked into writing a post for my blog. Boywitty has been bugging me these past few days about my lack of activity despite having announced a “comeback” (lolwhut), but I’ve actually been busy with my Livejournal, so that doesn’t make me completely unproductive.

Anyway, lately I’ve been bothered about the fact that my attention span is rapidly decreasing by the minute. I can barely pay attention in class, I can’t finish listening to my friend talk about her weird dream, and I can’t stand reading novels anymore. (Dammit, I can’t even work on the radio program I’m editing without having to check SJ-World or my GMail every two minutes.)

Yesterday I borrowed Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things from the library, and this is my first attempt to read a full-length novel in a reeeeally long time. The only stuff I can finish reading are short stories and books the length of Coraline (size 12 font only please), and it’s pathetic, really. I don’t really care how long it’s been on the New York Times bestseller list — I’d probably fall asleep right smack in the middle of a Sidney Sheldon. So far I’m only on page 57 of The God of Small Things, and I’m already kinda lost. Oh boy.