Reading

Ughhhhh. Here I am, exhausted, and of course, it's my own fault.
I'm not even reading something new. I've started to reread the 'Blue Bloods' series by Melissa De La Cruz because I was given the newest in the line as a birthday present. I was up until 1:30 AM devouring my way through 'Masquerade,' the second in the series. After the next three and a half books I have left to read, I've been dying to dive into Stephen King's 'Everything's Eventual'. So, I am reading nonstop. Which is fine with me. But then I go to class. This is the flaw in my plan. . .
Because of extensive homework I haven't had a lot of time to read. I've connected this to the dry well of writing I have been living in for the past few months. So, I began to read again. Oh, how I miss fiction (not to mention writing it. I can't wait for a class that allows me to write it again--my true love). So, with a few chapters of some ficticious reading under my belt, I began typing up and revising two parts to a braided essay I plan to put together for my advanced writing class. While I still don't care for my first paper (probably because I stole previous material from a paper I wrote a few years ago and I finally realized how much my style of writing has changed in that time), the class seemed to. And they were glad to have the second piece on hand and ready--I left the first paper in a cliffhanger. I was pleased, yet felt bad, when a few kids started to cry. I'm really starting to appreciate having a whole class of people to bounce writing off of; I get a whole array of responses. Now, to write the researched explanation, the third and final part before braiding them together. But I've been too tired to write.
Thus, the flaw. I read (and become consumed in the need for 'just one more page') so I can feel inspired to write, and end up being too tired from reading to come up with what I need for class.
So, I am off to read some more. Perhaps to take a short nap. . .