I was taking a look at my Blogger profile this morning. There really isn't much in there now, so I was going to fill most of it out. I had no problem thinking of a couple of interests, some of my favorite movies, and my favorite music. Then I got to the "favorite books" section.

In many of the profies I've read, people apparently had no trouble thinking of a handful of books they consider to be "favorites." Likewise, I have seen several authors referenced in people's comments.

So I tried to think about the last book I've read, cover to cover... After mulling it over for a few hours, I'm pretty sure the last book I read was Ethan Frome, back in 9th grade English class. That would be either 1993 or 94. Before that, I can't think of anything other than the Encyclopedia Brown books I read as a kid.

Obligatory Important Note:This does not count Moo, Baa, La La La, The Hungry Caterpillar, or the "5 Minute Classics" I have been reading to my son recently.

Embarassed, I quickly closed the Blogger profile window and went back to doing other things.

I know exactly why I don't read books, yet I couldn't escape my thoughts about how others may view this. Are people going to think I'm un... un what? I can't even think of a word. Un-well read? I'd bet if I read more books, I'd know a word for that.

In my defense, it's not like I don't read anything. At one point recently, I was subscribed to a half-dozen magazines, and I read them all. I'll read the sports page, perhaps the business section of the local paper. The amount of blogs I read daily has grown to out of control proportions.

Why the aversion to books? It started when I was in 7th grade. I was doing a report on Langston Hughes. I took out a book of his work from the town library. After completing my report, I promptly lost the book.

Of course I couldn't fess up to it, so I did the next best thing - I ignored it. The occasional notification would get mailed to my house from the library letting me know that the book was overdue. Soon after, they started mentioning fines in their notifications. Then, for a little while, they stopped coming. Score one for me!

A month or two later though, it got serious. I received a notice in the mail that my case was being brought to a collection agency. From this point on, I have no idea how the issue got resolved, but that was the last I ever heard from them. All I know is after receiving that, I was terrified to step foot in any library. I had visions of WANTED posters with my face on them, guys named Bruno waiting just inside the door to snatch me up and bring me to "justice." My fear of libraries and books was born. I've read one book since (sadly, this includes my college years).

Not-as-Important Note: My fears were compounded in college, when I heard of an unsolved murder that happened in the stacks at Penn State's Pattee Library (see article here).

A few years ago, my wife got me a brand new library card for my birthday. Since then, I have gone a few times, but not without apprehension. As a result, I probably won't understand anyone's literary references. I hope you'll accept me in spite of that.

(ahem) My name is Omar. I am bibliophobic.