When thinking back on my life and what led to my voracity for reading and the love of the written word, my mind always go back to my earliest memories. Ever since I was a child my mom would put me to sleep by reading a story to me, typically a fable of some sort, but it always got my imagination going. In school we had a system where you would get ‘points’ for reading books; the more difficult the book read, the more points that were awarded. In those days, elementary and middle school, I read as much as I could. At home, my mom encouraged my love for books as she was an avid reader herself, and so I found myself in an environment where reading was readily fostered.
My love of reading was so great that often times I would attempt to read my favorite book during class time, earning a warning word or two from the teacher whenever I was spotted. This love of reading, however, did not stop me from succumbing to a common theme among young adults as they grow up: I stopped reading. Sure, I still read for class and that was no challenge for me, and I was still in book club up until I graduated high school, my heart was no longer in it. Reading became something I still enjoyed but found less engaging after discovering video games. In the end, I’ve attempted to get back into reading as much as I can, with reading books I know I’ll enjoy and trying to get myself back in the habit.
I have found myself in a similar position since I have entered DePaul. I no longer have the time or energy to read for fun. Even reading for class has become a very tedious chore, because I often feel compelled to write notes in the margins or highlight important part. I can no longer just read to read. I got back into reading during the summer break and the winter break, but now I’m back to solely reading academia. This makes me sad.