Something I noticed going through my to be read on Goodreads was that a couple of books that I had read got put into my to be read pile! This is a little upsetting since I thought I was diligently putting books in the right places. Come to find out I mislabel them sometimes. 😦
Does anyone else do this? Or has anyone else notice they have done this?
One of the topics YA Indulgences brought to light that I am discussing today is What Poetry Means to Me.
So let us begin! 🙂
Poetry is not something I used to write. I use to write full stories or short stories but here recently I find it easier to write a poem to quickly get a story across. My uncle writes poetry so he pushes me to do better and to be better. He is an inspiration I have in my life to continue writing.
Poetry can be like writing a journal for me. Certain times in my life can be found in a poem I write. Even if a poem is not ‘perfect’ I can still keep it for later so I can refine it or have my uncle look at it.
Poetry means an escape for me since I can lose myself in writing and thinking. It is something I drew myself into slowly. Something I have slowly been opening up to other people about. Something I have been slowly publishing in various small things. Maybe one day I can be comfortable enough in my escape to share it with others so they can lose themselves in the story. I would love for poetry to mean something to other people as much as it does to me.
He asked me Tell me a first/early memory of an encounter with something you consider culture, art, craft, or design. Defined broadly. It doesn’t have to be a museum or the ballet (though it can be). It might be a candy dish, a song, a church service, the state fair. That is, it might be something you think of as a cultural experience or art now (but might not have then). It might be the awful/beautiful thing you remember hanging on the wall, or the small thing you remember someone singing. It might be the money you didn’t have for the thing you wanted to do/see/be. Anything.
I would love to see your responses but this isn’t a necessary thing.
I started reading at a young age. So young that I don’t even remember my first book. I do have this one vivid memory from when I was in elementary school. I was sitting in a corner reading a book and I raised my hand to ask my teacher a question. She told me she would be right back and went to help another student. I sat there reading for a while longer and then realized she never answered my question so I grabbed her attention again. I remember her rushing over and saying “I’m so sorry! I completely forgot! You are just so quiet.”
Now memories change over time so this could have been totally different when it happened but this is what I remember. My mother agrees that I was a quiet kid until I found my voice in middle school. Now she says I can’t shut up. I agree unless I have a good book then I want the world to hush. Which every adult knows it doesn’t happen like that sadly but I digress.
I read to escape the world around me. I am a college kid that has stress upon stress upon stress going on around me and reading can help escape that stress. Now I do have to put something off or plan very carefully so that I can read but I still do it. It is a balancing act. I read because I would rather not spend a thing and still travel to other worlds and dimensions than sit at home mindlessly watching tv. (Though I am hooked on Stranger Things.) I prefer to surround myself with a pile of the impossible to be read pile than surround myself with books that I have already read. (There is an article about that somewhere. I think my uncle shared it with me.)
All of these things make reading more appealing to me than ever before and I write this blog to share that love with you. 🙂