A rather unnecessary question don’t you think Cinderzena? What are you thinking young lady?
Have you not been reading all your life? (except for those wee years during which you didn’t even have control over your own bladder. Pft, duh!)
Is it not clear to you that it is your life’s quest to devour, digest and chew the cud over all things readable that you could get your hands on?
Is it not apparent that all aspects of your life are and will inevitably centre around this one thing that ironically you love doing, regardless of the sleepless nights, red puffy eyes and the constant, never ending arguments with your mother over having no storage space to hold your ever growing pile of books?
Is it not clear enough that you’ll probably be compiling your tbr on your death bed even? (Can I be serious?)
Gosh stop it already!
OKAY!! I was only…
*Mumbling heard *
Yes, yes and yes!!
All the above is true and only true!
That everyone was the ghost of me trying to run this blog. Thank you very much for the invigorating questioning, I’ll take over from here.
So the question on the title above, one asked by many to others and to themselves since the beginning of the time when paper was invented and reading material was being made available to man. I too have often questioned myself on it, and rather recently have had the question being put cross to me by a lil cousin in his wee years *no bladder control yet mind you* so I decided I’d put my thoughts to writing.
Why do I read?
Why do you read?
Why do people read?
I cannot answer for the multitude of you who I know practice this act religiously day in day out and have been at it since before I started school. *or gained bladder control yet*
Yes thank you, can I please have no interruptions now?
*You keep missing out the important facts!!*
I think I know what I want to tell them or what they want to read. So please, cut me some slack.
*Zena, the question*
Yes, so here are some of the reasons I go to great lengths to hunt down ink on paper.
It is an escape. A portal to other worlds and dimensions. On the other side of ink there are other worlds, where I could be a warrior, a princess, a long lost daughter, or even an evil sorceress. It is a chance for adventure, to dabble with magic, be entwined in romances and plots, to be enthralled by the mystical legends of folk lore. I get to meet characters, no! real people who intrigue me, make me happy, scared, angry and also those singular souls whose very existence makes life in reality a better place, most often leaving me in a honey dewed state of perpetual love and desire.
*Baaah!!!!! Whaat! So scandalous child!*
Well, at least I was honest. Then there are those who inspire me, who I relate to, who in times of hardship motivate me to think positive and tell me that my life too is a story just like theit ones are.
It is my preferred source of knowledge. From finding out that ingots are blocks of gold, to learning spells and charms to disarm a wizard to knowing that female oppression is still a very real thing in most countries around the world, books, or any reading material for that matter have been how I get to know things. No one taught me that the Leaning Tower of Pisa was not always leaning nor was I told by any adult alive that “that” was where babies come from.
*aiye aiye child! You have no filter!*
This in a way molded me to prefer self study over being taught by a tutor, and that is how I like it. I always say, reading is power, especially if you can do it in multiple languages, and I’m grateful to be blessed in that aspect too. ^_^
I often push myself to take different courses in reading, being stuck in one rut, one genre can bore me. There is a world of unread content waiting for me while I go on replay over plots that turn in the same direction maybe in slightly different wavelengths, but similar. Why not try my mind at cultures and people who teach me to sympathize and enrich my mind by having my senses played on by their colourful societies. Though sometimes it might anger me or not agree with my route of thinking, it only makes me more sensitive to issues I face in reality.
A loner of sorts. I know I am an introvert by nature, thought at times able to be quite a daredevil if the right buttons are pushed, I have always preferred my own company. Books are what I used from an early age to escape from this world during those times when I didn’t feel like joining a crowd of noisy classmates, or when I didn’t feel welcome (Yes there have been times) Regardless this doesn’t mean I have lived thus far without friends, no, I am so lucky to have made the acquaintance of a few kindred souls whose company I will cherish for ever more.
So yeah, one needs an activity to kill time, and what better than reading eh?Something that kills many birds with one stone. Please, it hasn’t made me sad pessimistic individual, a bit shrewd and quite maybe, but it has also made me who I am today, someone willing to be optimistic whenever, wherever and more. The wealth of knowledge that it brings and the gradual insight on the workings of the language I acquired along the way have helped me in many ways.
That ended on a sad note didn’t it??
I’d like to know why you read? Any special reason? Do you do read like your life depends on it? Or just an activity to occupy your leisure?
I’d like to know.
Till next time