I know, I know.
Any teacher who reads this blog will shutter at the title.
But hear me out before any comments are made towards my fierce statement.
I do enjoy... no, rather, I love and respect books, and writers, and all things literary. (I was actually a star reader in grade school) The whole premiss of taking in another's interpretation of fictional and non-fictional events is actually quite intriguing to me. It definitely broadens one's idea of things. Make your mind more universally charged. Finding the simplistic beauty of the way someone unfolds a story, or even a sentence or two. I get the hub-bub, I do.
And, to be honest, as of late, I have done everything in my power to become one of the literary types. Spending trips to and from work learning about omens in Egypt and taking an ear-opening, mind-blowing investigation into an obsession at the centre of human nature. Falling asleep imagining a small indian boy cast away in the ocean. My issue lies not within the context of the books! I crave adventure and knowledge, I do!
Ever since I was young I wanted to be a reader. I found the whole, introverted, tucked-away lifestyles of readers calming and captivating. Anyone who read seemed to have some extra knowledge of how the world worked and how language worked. They were far more suave and interesting than those who didn't read. It's like they all took a "beginning to read" course that went on to outline proper word edict and how to always sound smarter than someone whether or not you actually were. I wanted to be able to tell everyone that my desk rested on piles of books that I've read....twice. And I have my own library of novels that I can site and quote individually in appropriate conversation. But I always had an issue with finishing a novel...
And I finally realize why!
I'm FAR to damn interested in my own life to read anything! There are waaaaay to many incredible, amazing, magical, life-altering things happening right in front of me, all the time, for me to ever devote a significant amount of time to a book. I want to! Believe me I want to so badly! So many books have the ability to truly help you lead and see a better life. But man-oh-man, I can't make it through a book. Not to mention I have a wildly overactive imagination and that imagination is always backed by, "Anything that can be imagined can be created!" SO, on top of my interesting situations, AND my overactive imagination, I am actively creating my universe! And I personally think that feat needs some serious dedication and care. My universe is something I need to specially craft to my specifications! It's kind of a big deal.
I'll sit on the subway for an hour, open "Life of Pi" and begin reading about Pi's day to day activities in his fathers Zoo. How each day he wakes up, and begins his day by passing hippos and wild birds and zebras and lions. He goes on to describe the morning routines of each of these animals and the majestic beauty and precision each animal has.
That paragraph alone has now got me thinking about how incredible it would be to live in a zoo! I begin to hatch schemes and plans on how I would accomplish such a thing. Simultaneously I think about how I'd love to have my guitar with me right at that moment because the man sitting in front of me has a bongo. ** (see asterisk attachment at bottom)
Having my guitar seeds a new thought which then blossoms into the fact that having a guitar on a train would be fun, then the thought of trains brings me to thinking about how I've never ridden on a real train, then a real train brings me to thinking about traveling, and anyone who knows me well enough would know that if I were to be traveling, with trains, it would be through Ireland, and with my "where" now established I would interject with my previous theory on the joys of living in a zoo, and then, porously, I would devise a plan to have myself backpacking through Ireland, and offering zookeepers work for a week in exchange for room/board and an opportunity to experience a morning with the animals.
For some reason or another I'm 4 pages further in the book and have no idea what's going on in the story. But I've consciously decided that I'm going to backpack Ireland and follow through with said plan. And that was a simple example. Just imagine what happens when I read a book full of mysticism and adventure. One chapter takes me 3 weeks to finish!
Alas, my wound.
My life is a story of its own in need of thorough narration and poetry. I don't mean to ever dismember the thought of enjoying a good book, but I have far to much adventure and exploration to do in my own real life to spend time in another.
One day, when I've done everything I've ever imagined. Then... then will I sit down, and read away my days, filling in the blanks that I could not have done on my own, and creating new adventure for the days to come.
cheers,
IM
** Bongo and hand drum players are, usually, the only musicians I would approach in a public setting and ask to jam with them. The reason being is that although I have a so called "creative feather dans mon chapeau" I still have very little knowledge of music theory and music playability. If I were to ask a trumpet player in the street to jam, he would most likely immediately begin to speak in music jargon, establishing such basics as the key of the following jam, whether it be played in a 4/4 time or a 4/8 time based on the projected audience of said jam, so on and so forth. Thus trumping (no slight pun intended) my ability to play whatsoever.)
