*pats abadoned blog* *consoles abandoned and neglected followers with chocolate*
I'm sure (well, maybe not sure) that my lack of posting has been noticed. So what have I been doing in the the time I HAVEN'T been blogging?
I've been studying in
Really, I swear I have retained something. (and now you're all saying, prove it).
Umm, well. I now know that Platyelminthes are acoelomates! DO YOU?! (you know now, so that was a silly question, tehe) That we possess notochords! That photophsophorylation produces ATP! That Andrew Johnson avoided being impeached by ONE VOTE! That Vietnam War led to the uniting of the New Left! That history repeats itself!
And I have proof of that last exclamatory sentence:
Of course, this would mean the blog would later wage war on me. And I'd lose. Tehehe. (<--- why am I giggling at war, you ask?
But onto the main mannerisms of the post!!!!!!!!!!! (I eez sorry about the exclamation marks, I'm currently running purely on caffeine. Coffee. Sugar. That stuff!!!!!!!!! EVERYTHING IS SHINY!!!! *twitches*)
BUT TO GET BACK ON POINT
Originally, reading for me was solely for entertainment. Fun. Good times. Escapism. This is why I adore children's fantasy--and also why I was such a constrictive reader for such a long time. There was a point where 90% of the books I read were fantasy.
I turned up my nose at everything else. When I picked up a book, I wanted nothing but to dive into a light fantasy every time: one with magic, heroes/heroines that despite their age manage to save the day, and misadventures that always turn out with happy endings. I wasn't open to anything else. I avoided "depressing" books like the plague. I didn't want to touch contemporary YA books with a pole, mistakenly believing everything was Gossip Girl fluff. I was just a very rigid reader and thought I knew exactly what I wanted out of a book every time.
The main reason I read then was definitely for entertainment, enjoyment. Reading was like TV or video games are to my friends. Sometimes addicting. Unthinking entertainment. Just..there.
But now, I've become acquainted with beautiful words that take my breath away. Stories that tug at my heartstrings. The most masterful prose that anyone can pen.
And my reading motivation has shifted. Now, when I'm picking up a book, I want to learn something. Feel something. Be changed.
Find words that speak to my soul.
So now it's like 25% of the time I want to read for fun, and 75% of the time I want to read to learn something or experience something. And most of all, I want to find beauty/ be smacked over the head with it/ notice hints of it when I'm reading. I want to be immersed in words and a story that have been so carefully crafted it's mesmerizing.
And there's always that moment, that indescribable moment before I glance at the first sentence of a book when I don't know what's going to happen. If the book is going to be absolutely terrible, or absolutely wonderful. If it's going to make me mad or sad or happy or combination of all of those. I think that moment of not-knowing--when anything is possible--that makes reading an adventure. Full of endless possibilities.