What is better to read in the morning. Vasily Belov - dates in the morning. Prayer to the Holy Trinity
Once upon a time, at the dawn of my freelance work, I earned very little, but I firmly decided to spend 10% of my income on books. Then with this money I could hardly buy one normal book. Years passed, and I firmly adhered to this rule. Now, for 10% of my monthly salary, I can buy so many books that I can't read them in a year - and this means that I bought and read books not in vain.
Always save 10% of your income for books - this is the best investment of this money. There is no need to put off more, less too.
Here is my monthly rate so far:
2. Read with a notepad
I like to call this rule "read smart". I never read a book twice. This happens because I “squeeze” all the ideas out of it as detailed as possible - a notebook helps me. When I read a book, I write down all the interesting and useful ideas in it, all the links to other books, I write out quotes that inspire me. When there is no notebook at hand or it is inconvenient to use it, I write in the margins with a pencil.
As a result, in my notebook there remains a squeeze of the book, the concentration of its ideas, the quintessence of meaning. It is pleasant to re-read the notebook afterwards - it is very inspiring.
And most importantly - such reading allows you to deeply penetrate the book.
3. List the top books to buy
Combining the first two tips, we have a rule of spending 10% of the money on books and a list of interesting books in a notebook. This very list is the "to-do" of future purchases. It is regularly shuffled and reworked - personal and professional interests tend to change.
4. Read at least an hour a day
And two is better. It really doesn't matter how much you read (although I strongly recommend reading at least an hour a day). It is important to do this regularly - accustom yourself to the rule "not a day without a book."
It is very difficult to allocate an hour a day for reading, especially for a busy person. In this case, I advise you to break the reading into small twenty-minute segments, which can be evenly “eaten” throughout the day. Reading at night before going to bed is not cool, a tired brain will refuse to accept a book and consider it a sleeping pill.
5. Mix styles
I am a big fan of books about self-development and motivation (probably I am one of those people for whom reading books about self-development has replaced self-development). However, reading only such books every day is boring. Therefore, alternate books, first useful, then science fiction, then business, and then fiction. Art books are also very useful and interesting to read.
6. Don't hold on to books
I advise you to exchange books with friends and acquaintances. First, it's a great way to save money. Second, you help your friends learn and grow. I have already lost count of the books that I sent by mail to my friends - and it pleases me, and it is useful for them.
7. Switch to e-books
No matter what anyone says, but the paper book is gradually dying off, turning into a kind of vinyl record - a pleasure for fans. Reading in the reader is easier, simpler and much cheaper. For a lover of reading, the reader pays off in about two months. And it's hard to calculate how many trees you save.
These are my simple rules and laws. Once you start reading, you can't stop. This I will tell you for sure. And one more thing: as an unknown designer Artemy Lebedev once said, every successful person is, first of all, books that he read on time.
Grandmother got up at six o'clock, when cars began to make noise in the street. Now her sleep is not sound, she sleeps and thinks all night. Here the first, probably still empty, trolley bus passed outside the window. Every time something clicks in it, it seems to her that the car has broken down since morning. It's bad they look after cars! There are a lot of cars, but they don’t save ...
Today is Saturday. Anxiety for the coming day began in the evening. Now this anxiety immediately seizes the old heart. Saturdays and holidays grandmother began to be afraid. Before, when she lived in the village, she was happy, now she began to be afraid. Is there anything else going on today? Yesterday my son-in-law came home late, and my daughter did not talk to him.
They fell apart again.
Grandmother quietly, with her feet, gropes for her shoes. He puts his feet in slippers and, holding back a cough so as not to wake his granddaughter, whispers: "Sleep, mother, sleep! Christ is with you. There is no need to go to kindergarten today."
The granddaughter from that, from the first son-in-law - sleeps with the grandmother. As they put away from the boobs, so everything adds up. It happened that she would go into a roar, and her daughter would immediately lose her temper. Throw the baby on the bed like someone else's. And all because the nerves. Thin neurons today, many have very bad ones.
So she thinks, tucking in a blanket from a child scattered in bed.
The road to the toilet is the most important for her now. There are only four steps here. Why, you also need to open the doors - two - and go through the parquet. And the parquet creaks, and the rugs that they brought from the village do not help either. I wove for them on purpose. My daughter ordered in a letter when the fashion for a lot of rustic things opened up. And then to say - fashion is not fashion, and you can’t buy carpets.
She cautiously opens the door to the hallway. Quietly steps on the rugs. But the parquet still creaks, as if dry birch bark was laid under it. Thank God, they didn't hear in their room. Now to open, blessed, the door. The door also creaks, and the switch clicks very fast. She decides not to turn on the light, the toilet still has a window from the kitchen, it is possible even at dusk. Even better. The new son-in-law covered the whole toilet with pictures, and in the pictures there are only naked girls. She is always ashamed to look at these - almost what her mother gave birth to. Such hanging chips. But what will you do? It's their business. Grandmother sighs and again thinks what to do. It would be necessary to really flush the water, but you will raise such a noise that it’s just a disaster. If you don't, it's also a sin. The daughter scolds for the noise, the son-in-law is angry that the smell remains, you don’t know who to listen to, who to please ...
She again decides half and half: she does not drain all the water, but only part of it, carefully so that it does not gurgle. With washing, okay, you can wait. She also quietly returns to her six-meter room, where her granddaughter sleeps.
A sharp, but some kind of short, as if bashful call is heard from the front doors. Grandma, holding her breath, tiptoes to her door. “Lord, you don’t know what to do. If you don’t open it, they’ll call again, they’ll wake everyone up. And you can’t open it either. If only the son-in-law woke up and went out. Maybe to him ...”
She waits tensely: maybe they will leave. Creeps up to the door and listens. No, they didn't. It is heard clearly: there is someone behind the doors. It's better to open.
She carefully, without noise, turns the handle of the lock and quietly opens the door.
A bald old man in boots, in a gray cotton jacket, holding a cap in his hands, crumples at the door.
Good health! - he says loudly, and the grandmother waves her hands at him: "Hush, hush! .."
The old man rearranges his backpack from place to place and also switches to a whisper:
I would, this ... I, then, Kostya ... No Konstenkin, then?
No, no
Where is he? Not on a business trip?
I don't know, I don't know, baby. He doesn't live here now.
Moved?
Moved, moved. Whose will you be?
Yes, I mean it ... Tell Konstenkin something that Smolin was. Olesha, then ... Well, excuse me, please.
With God blessing.
Grandmother carefully closes the door. Good thing no one woke up. Let them sleep, with Christ, they also got tired for a week, she thinks with respect about her son-in-law, daughter and son-in-law's sister, who came from another city, to act. That's six o'clock on the alarm clock. After reading the prayer, she sits at the feet of her granddaughter. It is very bad and unpleasant to sit like this, doing nothing. And there is a lot to do, and they will wake up at nine, not earlier. You could knit on knitting needles, but the wool just ran out. I ought to write a letter to my son, but they have paper and envelopes in their room. I would like to go for bread and milk, but the store opens only at eight o'clock. There is nothing to do yet. Thoughts themselves surround from all sides. And all the thoughts are only about them, about the children. Sons are far away, but my heart aches for them. One, an officer serving in Germany, is the youngest. Another lives in Siberia, left as a teenager. One daughter is in Moscow, the other - the eldest - lives in the village. That man does not drink, he is an artisan. About them and think in half, they live well. They themselves have grandchildren. But the local daughter, albeit in front of our eyes, is a pity more than anyone else. They live like a train station. She herself became like a sliver, she also swears with this man almost every other day. She divorced her first due to drinking. The second, although he does not drink, is somehow ordinary, and not independent. He is worse than any woman. They argue about trifles, but why argue? There is money, well-fed, shod. Thank God, the time has improved, the stores are full of everything. It used to be that before the chintz was brought to the shop - they bought it by lot. And now they don’t know what to wear, they take gifts for every holiday. And the holidays are on their way. And between themselves? Often like dogs. "Is that what I taught her?" - to herself, the grandmother says bitterly.
And she remembers a long time ago. Old, but so clear, local, as if it had not gone away. Men and wives never slept apart before. If only they go to war or to work. And now something? Women are too lazy to give birth to children, men have forgotten how to feed their families.
Is it a man if he earns less than his wife?
And suddenly she becomes ashamed that she is sneaking people. She scolds herself in a hasty whisper and remembers yesterday's letter from the village.
It's a pity. It is a pity for all - suffering now and those who have suffered. There, they write in the letter, susse-darling ordinary, younger than her, but dead. He was going to live until he was ninety. Do not forget to remember in church. Oh, how much man has endured! And he was wounded and robbed. The skin was torn off in captivity, spitting into the eyes.
She also remembers her own husband, who perished in the last war. Behind him, the mother-in-law, sister-in-law and brother-in-law come to mind. What can I say, she was not painfully affectionate, the deceased. Yes fair. He used to sit by the samovar, the first cup for her husband, the second for her son. And the third is not for herself and not for her underage sister-in-law, but for her, the daughter-in-law. Father-in-law, too - not at once, but thawed, but then he did not let anyone offend.
The old man was stern, what can I say. It’s a sin to remember, I came into the house, spinning as if on a sule. Once she swept the hut, looks, and under the bench lies a silver ruble. In the house alone. It was a stupid thing, I didn’t immediately guess that they were deliberately thrown in, but anyway, before the paugny, I handed the money to the old man: “Here, darling, I found it under the bench.” I was so happy and happy! He praised, stroked his head like a little one. The elder sister-in-law did not sell cows, he made her, the daughter-in-law, big. Long life, oh long, you can do a lot.
Grandmother's thoughts flow one after another, but then the parquet creaked in the corridor, the kettle rattled in the kitchen. Wake up, get up. Grandmother suddenly remembers that today is Sunday and that she must go for a walk with her granddaughter. Her soul begins to ache. Grandmother goes unnoticed to the window and furtively looks out into the street, in the direction where there is a telephone booth and a greengrocer's shop. Is it here? Here already. Stands, cordial, in a gray cloak, collar turned up. Smokes. The granddaughter is still sleeping, but he is standing. So every Sunday morning, he comes and waits until the grandmother and granddaughter go out into the yard. But sometimes the daughter herself takes the girl for a walk in the park, and then he pulls down his collar, closes himself in a telephone booth. And stands behind the glass until they pass.
Nikitayskaya Natalia
Nikitayskaya Natalia
Sun in the morning
Natalia Nikitayskaya
Sun in the morning
Of course, you won't like the first option.
bathroom, you're in the shower, just me
Noe in you-industriousness. In this sense, you beat everyone. If among biologists, like among football players, a count of exactly scored ideas was kept, then you would sparkle brighter than Pele.
However, you are sparkling.
Now I. I'm thirty. I am divorced. I live with my son in a one-room apartment. I work at a small factory in the legal department. The whole department is three people: Marya is the head, Boris Petrovich is a lawyer and I am on paperwork .. My education is secondary technical. In the evenings I take care of my son. And when I leave for you, the son stays with a neighbor on the site, a sweet elderly woman.
Yes, I completely forgot to say: your name is Eugene, my name is Olga. My son Yurka, nicknamed the Scientist.
Have I told everything? No, not all. It is not clear how we met. And easier than ever. You were invited by the cultural sector of our factory committee to talk about the impact of environmental pollution on the human body. You came, refused to pay. The workers approved it. They approved your story. Now it is customary to speak accessible. But you also spoke passionately and figuratively. You were clear. And so clearly I see you between the presidium table and the shabby podium. And you're not talking into the microphone. And you look at me so often that I think I would fall through the ground with happiness. In short, I fell in love with you at first sight. And she stayed, ostensibly to ask a question. And you - Lord! as I understand now what it cost you! - offered to explain everything to me on the way to my house. This was only four years ago.
I myself kissed you that evening. And you fell so close to me that for a second I even felt my superiority. But I didn't know you yet. And I didn’t think that you, having sorted through this whole evening in your mind, would consider me frivolous. Then you have not yet appreciated my love and impulse. But the impulse that fell on you, you appreciated immediately. And after our first night - how long I had to wait for her! - it became clear: we can't do without each other.
It's time to stop here. Everything that we had in four years cannot be recounted, and this is not required by the plot.
Let's go back to the conversation that takes place while you're in the shower and it's like I'm cooking dinner for us.
Where is the sour cream? Did you put sour cream in the freezer again?
Sour cream, I say, you froze again!
Do not carp! These are small things compared to your shoes!
This is about the fact that I bought a great pair of shoes in the store, only both shoes were on one foot.
It is rightly said: two pair of boots, I hint that it is time to get married.
You do not hear any words or intonation.
You don't hear. He must have wrapped his head in a towel.
Exactly. You go out wrapped up, your face is moist, radiant.
Well, what kind of poison did you prepare for me today?
You love to eat, and I try my best to please you.
No, nothing, nothing, delicious...
Liked? Satisfied for some time...
You look at me, taking your eyes off the plate, quickly and faithfully.
Will you stay overnight?
No. She promised the Scientist to draw a duty schedule for his little star.
Commander?
Didn't I tell you? I was happy all evening yesterday.
Joyful child.
Brings me joy.
I am attached to him too.
You rarely see it.
Well Olya...
I am silent, I am silent.
You are coming. And you put your arms around my shoulders. From caress I go stupid and go ahead:
Zhenya, let's get married.
A woman, Olya, - you say, smiling joyfully, - must wait until she is called to marry. Do not perform male functions.
As for functions, you know everything better than me. And I don’t make you an offer at all, but I persuade you to make it to me.
Aha! And you will think and refuse! - You put forward an assumption so ridiculous that we both laugh.
You know how much I love your jokes. Each new meeting added to our relationship of looseness and warmth. And one of the signs of both is your humor.
But our meetings, especially lately, were not only good. Or rather, my whole life - mine anyway - was divided into periods: we are together and we are apart.
And since the first ones were much rarer than the second ones, and the second ones, again for me, meant bitter loneliness, and my emotional nature knew how to somehow exaggerate this bitterness, and when we were together, I did not allow myself to throw out negative emotions, considering that tears and reproaches will push you away, then the warmth multiplied over the years was still not enough for me for peace of mind.
And so today I wanted to get an answer.
Well, but still?
Olya! Oleshek! I’m not fit to be a husband, I haven’t matured yet, apparently ...
You will ripen - you will say ... - I was offended.
I'll tell you. And remember, if this happens, then only you, and you first ...
You always felt it was time for a pat on the head. I accepted the gesture.
Don't cheat. You have already made an offer to one woman, for her you have already matured.
Here's how? Who is she?
She has a great name. She is bloodthirsty and precise. Elusive and beautiful. She is a vamp. She is a sissy. And you love her the most!
But who is this? Of course, I would not refuse this!
Her name is Biology! And I'm jealous of you for this oblique beauty.
Why is it oblique?
One eye of her does not see enough of the exact sciences, the other winks at the humanities, and she is only interested in mortal creations.
Don't blame her for it. After all, we are such creatures. How can you not be interested in me?
Listen, can she hug like that? And kiss? - I pressed my lips to your ear and whispered a prayer like a shaman: - Well, why, why two people, So suitable for each other, so loving ... No, in my opinion, we deprive ourselves of happiness ...
You press me. But this is not so much a love hug as a humble hug.
How do you elude the main decision! How can you combine the incompatible: to be with me and keep me at a distance! I don’t understand what’s stopping you from being like others, I can’t understand. But I don’t want to see you humiliated, and therefore I roll back.
However, we are already so happy, right?
True, true, - you repeat with relief.
It should be noted that you are afraid of losing me. You are afraid that I will not be able to endure such a life: meetings once a week, stingy telephone conversations, your frequent trips - for some reason, not a single international symposium can do without you.
But I endure. And Marya with her chirping; "Well, what kind of character you have, Olga! I didn't get along with my husband. And this one won't marry you." This is not said seriously, not by a strange coincidence, always after I show dissatisfaction with the style of Marya's leadership. I repeat, I endure Marya, I endure your indecision, loneliness, which for some reason you do not feel, I humble myself and my impatience. I humble myself because I love you and I'm afraid to lose you.
You see what happens: we are both afraid of losing each other. And we both love Yuri. In fact, you rarely see him.
Here I go, I go. I'm approaching the main events and I'm still afraid of missing something. This is true. She did not explain her son's nickname. They began to call him a scientist almost from a manger. He is, as you put it, a child with frequent flashes of genius. You like logic in. his reasoning and actions. You see him as a future mathematician. And I think that Yurka is more inclined towards art: he is very emotional. Of all our trinity: you, me, he - I am the most ungifted. I'm ordinary.
Well, now about the most important thing. If this were a historical work, the words "turning point" would certainly be used here. Indeed, everything turned upside down. The change of scenery took place as abruptly as only a magical theater can do. I stepped over the threshold. You went out to the landing and stood on the stairs, holding the door. I didn't have much fun. Another meeting is over. And everything is as before. Nothing changed. I returned to normal life - without you. In parting, I stroked the sleeve of your terry dressing gown. And failed. I didn't even have time to scream. Fell into oblivion. Then you said the same thing: "You touched the sleeve. It was so gentle. I felt so warm. And suddenly, a complete blackout. Like a dream. Or death."
Why did they choose us? Who knows how they spotted us among the billions of earthlings? But, anyway, the second act began. Alien ship. Glowing texts on the wall in a large room built especially for us. The first text was: "We welcome earthlings to our ship. Peaceful scouts." Then the word "scouts" went out and two appeared instead: "scouts of the universe." The scoreboard reminded me of Aksakov's Scarlet Flower. And the fact that their translator does not always immediately find synonyms in our language was so human. For some reason, I immediately realized that what was happening was a reality. You stood there tense.
And this tension was about to turn into admiration. You believed too. And he was shocked. But what shock could stop your mind from working? You mentally analyzed your impressions, you wanted to find out with the help of what forces these "scouts" managed to extinguish consciousness, and then revive it again, without damaging anything, without violating anything. You tried to understand what happened objectively and impartially. But is this even possible! You started asking questions. You were answered. But the answers - I saw did not satisfy you. I tried to understand your conversation, but after a few impressive formulas uttered by you in a tongue twister, I gave up the attempt, just firmly ...
Vasily Belov
Dates in the morning
Grandmother got up at six o'clock, when cars began to make noise in the street. Now her sleep is not sound, she sleeps and thinks all night. Here the first, probably still empty, trolley bus passed outside the window. Every time something clicks in it, it seems to her that the car has broken down since morning. It's bad they look after cars! There are a lot of cars, but they don’t save ...
Today is Saturday. Anxiety for the coming day began in the evening. Now this anxiety immediately seizes the old heart. Saturdays and holidays grandmother began to be afraid. Before, when she lived in the village, she was happy, now she began to be afraid. Is there anything else going on today? Yesterday my son-in-law came home late, and my daughter did not talk to him.
They fell apart again.
Grandmother quietly, with her feet, gropes for her shoes. He puts his feet in slippers and, holding back a cough so as not to wake his granddaughter, whispers: “Sleep, mother, sleep! Christ is with you. You don't have to go to kindergarten today."
The granddaughter from that, from the first son-in-law - sleeps with the grandmother. As they put away from the boobs, so everything adds up. It happened that she would go into a roar, and her daughter would immediately lose her temper. Throw the baby on the bed like someone else's. And all because neurons. Thin neurons today, many have very bad ones.
So she thinks, tucking in a blanket from a child scattered in bed.
The road to the toilet is the most important for her now. There are only four steps here. Why, you also need to open the doors - two - and go through the parquet. And the parquet creaks, and the rugs that they brought from the village do not help either. I wove for them on purpose. My daughter ordered in a letter when the fashion for a lot of rustic things opened up. And then to say - fashion is not fashion, and you can’t buy carpets.
She cautiously opens the door to the hallway. Quietly steps on the rugs. But the parquet still creaks, as if dry birch bark was laid under it. Thank God, they didn't hear in their room. Now to open, blessed, the door. The door creaks too, and the switch clicks very fast. She decides not to turn on the light, the toilet still has a window from the kitchen, it is possible even at dusk. Even better. The new son-in-law covered the whole toilet with pictures, and in the pictures there are only naked girls. She is always ashamed to look at these - almost what her mother gave birth to. Such hang shcheperi. But what will you do? Case theirs. Grandmother sighs and again thinks what to do. It would be necessary to really flush the water, but you will raise such a noise that it’s just a disaster. If you don't, it's also a sin. The daughter scolds for the noise, the son-in-law is angry that the smell remains, you don’t know who to listen to, who to please ...
She again decides half and half: she does not drain all the water, but only part of it, carefully so that it does not gurgle. With washing, okay, you can wait. She also quietly returns to her six-meter room, where her granddaughter sleeps.
A sharp, but some kind of short, as if bashful call is heard from the front doors. Grandma, holding her breath, tiptoes to her door. “God, you don’t know what to do. If you don’t open it, they’ll call again, they’ll wake everyone up. And you can't open it either. If only the son-in-law woke up and went out. Maybe to him…”
She waits tensely: maybe they will leave. Creeps up to the door and listens. No, they didn't. It is heard clearly: there is someone behind the doors. It's better to open.
She carefully, without noise, turns the handle of the lock and quietly opens the door.
A bald old man in boots, in a gray cotton jacket, holding a cap in his hands, crumples at the door.
Good health! - he says loudly, and the grandmother waves her hands at him: “Hush, hush! ..”
The old man rearranges his backpack from place to place and also switches to a whisper:
I would, this ... I, then, Kostya ... No Konstenkin, then?
No, no
Where is he? Not on a business trip?
I don't know, I don't know, baby. He doesn't live here now.
Moved?
Moved, moved. Whose will you be?
Yes, I mean it ... Tell Konstenkin something that Smolin was. Olesha, then ... Well, excuse me, please.
With God blessing.
Grandmother carefully closes the door. Good thing no one woke up. Let them sleep, with Christ, they also got tired for a week, she thinks with respect about her son-in-law, daughter and son-in-law's sister, who came from another city, to act. That's six o'clock on the alarm clock. After reading the prayer, she sits at the feet of her granddaughter. It is very bad and unpleasant to sit like this, doing nothing. And there is a lot to do, and they will wake up at nine, not earlier. You could knit on knitting needles, but the wool just ran out. I ought to write a letter to my son, but they have paper and envelopes in their room. I would like to go for bread and milk, but the store opens only at eight o'clock. There is nothing to do yet. Thoughts themselves surround from all sides. And all the thoughts are only about them, about the children. Sons are far away, but my heart aches for them. One, an officer serving in Germany, is the youngest. Another lives in Siberia, left as a teenager. One daughter is in Moscow, the other - the eldest - lives in the village. That man does not drink, he is an artisan. About them and think in half, they live well. They themselves have grandchildren. But the local daughter, albeit in front of our eyes, is a pity more than anyone else. They live like a train station. She herself became like a sliver, she also swears with this man almost every other day. She divorced her first due to drinking. The second, although he does not drink, is somehow ordinary, and not independent. He is worse than any woman. They argue about trifles, but why argue? There is money, well-fed, shod. Thank God, the time has improved, the stores are full of everything. It used to be that before the chintz was brought to the shop - they bought it by lot. And now they don’t know what to wear, they take gifts for every holiday. And the holidays are on their way. And between themselves? Often like dogs. “Is that what I taught her?” - to herself, the grandmother says bitterly.
And she remembers a long time ago. Old, but so clear, local, as if it had not gone away. Men and wives never slept apart before. If only they go to war or to work. And now something? Women are too lazy to give birth to children, men have forgotten how to feed their families.
Is it a man if he earns less than his wife?
And suddenly she becomes ashamed that she is sneaking people. She scolds herself in a hasty whisper and remembers yesterday's letter from the village.
It's a pity. It is a pity for all - suffering now and those who have suffered. There, they write in the letter, an ordinary cousin, younger than her, but dead. He was going to live until he was ninety. Do not forget to remember in church. Oh, how much man has endured! And he was wounded and robbed. The skin was torn off in captivity, spitting into the eyes.
She also remembers her own husband, who perished in the last war. Behind him, the mother-in-law, sister-in-law and brother-in-law come to mind. What can I say, she was not painfully affectionate, the deceased. Yes fair. He used to sit by the samovar, the first cup for her husband, the second for her son. And the third is not for herself and not for her underage sister-in-law, but for her, the daughter-in-law. Father-in-law, too - not at once, but thawed, but then he did not let anyone offend.
I noticed one feature, namely: if you read a book or some other material (an article, a task, etc.) early in the morning, it turns out that you somehow understand everything faster, remember more from what you read and read as if “thoughtfully and attentively ". Thus, for myself, I concluded that the best time for reading is in the time interval from 5:00 to 7:30 in the morning. And in principle, 30-40 minutes of reading is enough in the morning. I have already tried to read books in the morning. I read 5 books, each in about 6-7 days (I read 30-45 minutes a day in the morning). Moreover, these books, which I read in the morning, I remember the most. Plus, when I read books during the day, at lunchtime at work, after work, or at rare moments at work (when I had 15-20 minutes of free time), I kind of forced myself to do it. I read for the sake of reading, as if I set the goal of reading a book, but whether or not I understood what was being said was already secondary. Yes, maybe not with everything right, but something like that. And it felt like when I read in the afternoon or in the evening, it took incomparably more time (although the time in fact was the same when reading in the morning, as when reading in the afternoon or evening). In the morning - no matter how tense you are - you read for your pleasure. You know that you have nowhere to rush, no one distracts you with calls or VK messages, the main things have not yet begun ... you seem to subconsciously devote these 30 minutes only to the book, immerse yourself completely and all attention is focused only on what is written in this book. In general, these are the feelings I have. Another plus is that in the morning you read at about the same time (+/-) 15-20 minutes. and you already get used to it and do not force yourself to read, it becomes the norm. In 2013, I somehow woke up at 5:00 for about a month and read in the morning - I did not notice how I read 1 book, then another. In a month it turned out to read 4-5 books in this way, spending 30-40 minutes a day on it. Then I stopped waking up early (at 5 am), but I understood that it was necessary to read, because. Books affect me in the most positive way. But somehow there was never time. It was 20-30 minutes of time during the day, but I either forgot to read, or I didn’t have a book at hand, or I spent this time on TV, the Internet and other useless things. In the end, I came to this conclusion - that the best time to read is early in the morning. And, yes, I almost forgot, one more important point, a big plus: ... when I read books on self-education, scientific and applied literature earlier in the morning, I noticed a very interesting detail: when I read about something in a book in the morning, then in the afternoon, when there was a situation at work where you can apply the knowledge that I read in the morning - I did it. Every day I learned something new and applied it spontaneously throughout the day. Those. even if I read 15 pages and something useful was written there, then very often there was an opportunity - when this useful knowledge could be applied. But in the case when I hurriedly read 100 pages during the day, then somehow the information that was there “blurred” and was quickly forgotten, there was a lot of it ... and somehow, from experience, I rarely applied it in practice.
