It started in the library. There were three stacks of books on the table in the small conference room existing between where all the book laden shelves exist and the computer lab. Setting my bag down on the opposing end of the table, I picked up each book and examined it. Only one stuck out.
Reading is something I have enjoyed since I was little. I was definitely that kid who would get in trouble for reading past bed time. Constantly, my mother would tell me that reading in the dark was bad for my eyes - but I didn't seem to really care. A good story can't simply be put down. I find myself pulled into the twists and turns of the adventures, yearning to know what happens next. There exists a totally different world between the front and back covers of a book and it is a beautiful place to get lost.
I don't remember the other two titles of the books on the table that day, but I do remember that I started reading Hate List in 5th period and practically never stopped until 11:30 that night once I had finished the entire thing. My penchant for reading had just been reawakened, and with it my renewed love for writing as well. What, you thought it was a crazy random happenstance that I have suddenly started blogging more? The more I read, the more I feel the need to express.
After I devoured Hate List in a mere matter of hours the next book I set my sights on was Ender's Game. I annihilated that story within three days. Then I checked out the second book of that series, Speaker For The Dead. It was like I didn't want to do anything else except finish the story. I had to know what happened to the characters. To the piggies. Whatever was going on between Ender and Novinha. I lost myself in the forests on Lusitania, in the town of Milagre.
I was nearing the end of the story when a long weekend was coming up. I knew I would finish the book before Monday rolled around and heaven forbid I am left with nothing to read for the remainder of the holiday weekend. So I checked out The Hunger Games on Friday.
True to form I devoured the rest of Speaker For The Dead on Friday night. But all that did was make me thirst for the third novel. I want to know what happens next. But I put it aside and moved from the otherworldliness of Lusitania and Trondheim into the downtrodden and poor Seam of District 12 in Panem and then to the bright facade of the Capitol. I let Katniss sweep me away with her guts and her will to survive in the grisliest of circumstances.
And the whole "romance" with Peeta was good too. Although it made me ache for him, for his unrequited love. For the fact that Katniss was only pretending and his feelings had been real. Sometimes I just wanted to grab Katniss and shake her. Don't you get it?? I would scream in my head, but to no avail.
Unfortunately though, I finished The Hunger Games about an hour ago. I have an insatiable appetite now for books and stories and whole other worlds to take me away from here. Out of my own life. Transport me into something else entirely - an unfamiliar place where I can pick whichever character I want to be and have my own adventure.
I've heard it said that an ordinary man lives but one life, while a man who reads lives a thousand. If that's the case then I've been on many adventures in my life and lived through thousands of stories. Never satisfied, never finished, and always in need of another book.
This whole working in the library thing was probably one of the best gigs I could have ever hoped to land, even though I had no idea at the time.