I have this weird feeling, having started to reading SK, but it doesn't make any logical sense. All my life I've seen other people, family and friends, classmates reading ST, and picked up and put them down constantly for reason I can't explain. There were so many that I idly thought, "I should definitely read that one some day, it looks interesting," and it's a thought I've had about many SK books. The weird part is that I feel like I was meant to have been reading him this whole time, and have stretched against how my own personal history should have unfolded (and in a parallel universe next door, I have read many of the books I've always intended to). So I've found myself caught in a general frenzy, scrambling to "right" the universal balance...sounds mental I know. I'm also trying to pace myself at the same time, so I don't burn out on ST.