It’s been a rainy weekend.
Rain, I know, is essential for living. Not just for you and for me, but for the cows… and I guess, for all the other non-cow beings in the world. But without rain, there would be no cows! And without cows, well, this blog would not exist and neither would a part of me.
But perhaps because of the rain, what otherwise would have no effect on me compelled me to seek a change in scenery.
And where did I go? The library.
Ah, the library. The one place in the world I wish I felt at home at – but never did. Until now, that is.
In the past, the library was simply the place I went to to study until my next class started or bide my time because I didn’t have any friends. It was a place of refuge, but I did not seek it for all the hidden treasures it contained.
I never was a “book nerd” in the typical sense. My sister was and still remains The Reader in the family. It would be a miracle if I could find a novel I liked and actually get around to finish it. The perennial “What’s your favorite book?” used to make me sweat bucket fulls. I never had a ready answer. But I also wasn’t comfortable with admitting that I don’t read. I’d say something like, “I’m so busy with school, all I read are textbooks! Grrr!” when in reality, school was just a convenient excuse.
As an nonathletic, chubby nerd(ish) girl, reading should have been my favorite past-time. But it wasn’t. Why wasn’t it? It was a fact about myself that I was deeply ashamed of. So ashamed, I haven’t been able to admit it until now.
Over the past few months though I’ve discovered that it was not reading fiction that I disliked, I just hadn’t discovered the genre I like. Eureka!
When I was younger, I felt that I had to read literature that was tortuous – the classics – you know, because that’s what smart people do. It sounds silly now. I’m not proud of this fact. But today, I’m okay with admitting I’d much rather watch the musical Man of La Mancha then read Miguel de Cervantes’s Don Quixote. There! I said it!
These past few months living in a new city, so far away from what I’ve known as home, have given me an incredible opportunity to discover who I really am, deep down inside, at this particular stage in my life. I began to blog again. And that sparked an interest to write more widely. At the same time, I began to search for ideas in other writers – in books. Sometimes, it’s reading a fictional account of a life so different from your own that gives you the directive for an area in your life you had been neglecting. How does that work? I don’t know. I love it. I’m hooked.
Now I know why having fun isn’t hard when you got a library card! And when I tell everyone my favourite Disney Princess is Belle, I don’t have to attempt to justify my response.
I LOVE TO READ! I can finally say it with pride.