Today I have discovered my loss for something very invaluable, which i could spend hours with, and it would stir up my mind with bubbles of ideas (Yeah i see ideas as bubbles in my head. So shoot me), something which could whisk me away from reality in some imaginary happy land (Or not so depending on what it is).
Not as invaluable as you
I haven't freaking been reading.
Yeah a great tragedy it is to me (Oh hell, its starting to sound like Shakespeare in modern words). Yeah but anyway, i do consider it a great loss now that someone i know has reminded me of reading and according to her "evokes emotion". Well particularly to a certain author, but i think its for most of them (Even lit texts evoke emotion. Particularly despair).
Anyway the point is, what the hell happened to reading Brian? (Sorry, sometimes i think so much i become third person. So shoot me again). Don't you remember your Enid Blyton and Harry Potter and whatever you read when you were in primary school and all? What happened to that nice feeling you get when reading about dragons and magical little things that wonder about in magical little woods? (This gives you a rough example of when i last read. Honestly, Potter was centuries ago, Enid Blyton, eons).
Reading seems to have sadly disappeared off my to-do list of my life (Currently IOP and Chinese Oral leads the list followed by Mug Maths. Oh no photography is near bottom ):) and has even escaped my interest (horrors!) I can prove this from my attempted reading of Lord Of The Rings, (The much more grown up version of Enid Blyton, where trees can kill you and rings aren't wish machines) where i have been stuck on page 322 since like 2 years ago. And its only part one of the trilogy. Somehow interest has failed me along the way and the book has been rotting in the shelves since then.
Sadly though, i never missed reading while it had disappeared. Sure i do read newspapers, magazines, blogs (failblog!), forums, notices, menus, signboards, vandalism etc. But reading reality is different from reading fiction and of course well written reality is almost like fiction but it is hard to find stuff like that. (Actually its called non-fiction) Thanks to the reminder today, I have begun to wonder how i could have forgotten about the amazing world reading puts you in, where it is totally different from the world we are in and anything is possible. The feelings which the author invoke and the characters and the story that captivates and enchants and...
...when you reach the end after following the protagonist through the chapters of words, you can't help it but feel the satisfaction of completing the book, knowing the story, but at the same time the sadness of leaving the character you have been following for the few hours in which you were completely engrossed in that bit of pulp and ink (Can't say that for Lord Of The Rings though. Its been a lag time of 2 years and i now have completely no idea what Aragon is talking about on page 322 because of that).
And so thanks to today, I have decided to start picking up reading again (Sorry Huck Finn doesn't count. That one was forced into our heads with threats of get-7-points-or-die), for real. I guess its time to hit the library for me and pick up some books (Probably murder mysteries and or horror fiction. Stephen King, creepy but hell, interesting enough. I hate horror on film so i guess reading it is the closest i can get. Censorship under my control. Hah) and get this old interest of mine up and running. I hope it hasn't died out yet.
Maybe i should begin again with Lord Of The Rings and find out what the hell Aragon is talking about.
Wow thats long. I think too much. Hah
and it's brighter than sunshine.
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