I have been wondering what to write about for this guest post quite a while, ever since I signed up for the blog swap. Seeing as I didn't know who I would swap with I decided to wait till I knew and then I could write something relevant or cool or whatever. Then I found out who I was swapping with and I panicked, now I had to decide what to write and believe me I had no idea. I first thought my post should fit in with the rest of Aurora's blog, but what do I know about her life?
Then she send me her post about 10 things she's thankful for and I had a quick peek into what was important in her life. Now maybe you see this as cheating, me first reading her post before writing mine, but I think me having some insight would give me a better sense of what to write. So I started reading her list, smiling as I read all the things she were thankful for till I got to number 7.
Books! Now there is something we have in common. I absolutely looooooooove reading and no I'm not over exaggerating. Before I read Aurora's post though, I was thinking along the lines of maybe I should write something about why I love to write and believe me those two are connected. Since I was in preschool I used to love reading. We had a room at preschool that was divided into different sections and then we would rotate to get a chance to play or learn at each of these corners. My mom told me that everytime we were at the bookcorner and had to rotate I refused to leave. I don't remember that but I remember in Grade 1 when they gave us those patheticly short books to read I would finish it right then and there and get so frustrated when we had to go through is ever so sloooooooooowly. I was/is more of a bookmonster then a bookworm, reading every suitable book I could lay my hands on. When I discovered libraries there was no stopping me and after I learned my second language (English) a whole new world opened to me, with more choices of books I could read. I have read so many books, some great, some not so great, and some totally horrible, but I read them anyway. :)
In school I never really wrote anything except assignments given to me. I wrote maybe just about a dozen independent pieces, but I'd like to believe that because of my reading habit writing came easily to me. Ever since I started attending university less than five years ago, my reading got interupted, all the fantasy, science fiction, romance, mystery, thrillers and what not replaced with textbooks like Calculus and I pined. I pined to read again, every holiday that I went home and didn't have to study I would go raid the local library. Taking over almost everyone in my families library cards so I could get a fair amount of books to read. My mother always used to say I could just as well not come home, because they anyway never see or hear from me when I'm reading.
In the meantime during the semester I had this very not literature inclined course I was doing (Computer Science) and I needed an outlet so I started writing poetry, thoughts swimming in my head all day and I loved it. Now that I'm a postgrad student I have found the balance between reading non-academic related books, my writing hobby and working on my research.
So last night I thought, maybe this post should be about why I write and as I was lying there I thought how I would say it, then I remembered something I wrote a few weeks ago. A poem about my love for reading and why I write, so instead of posting a long explanation of why, I'll leave you with this poem and want to also dedicate it to Aurora knowing she would totally understand the reading books part of it.
For my love of books
i love to escape
slip away in books
written by people
i’d lock myself in towers of fantasy
teaching myself the magic of words
reliving tales spun by weavers of imagination
following a golden thread of thought
to a cave, a lamp, a princess,
a land of eternal youth
i am a thief
i am a prince, dragon, hobbit,
warrior, seeker, wizzard
i am truth
i am a lie
i am a saviour
a fool, a wiseman,
the one, carrier of hope
i am darkness
i am light
i find inspiration
hidden amidst the pages of books
written by people
i draw from feelings around me
sometimes they are not my own
i tap into your fears and failures
i close my eyes and i imagine
my feet, your shoes,
your feelings, my words
and i take up my pen
to lend my voice
who cannot speak
As dawn approaches,
The sun lifts it head and yawns -
Its breath warms the earth.
PLEASE visit my new friend Roxy at her personal blog http://ithoughtitup.wordpress.com/