Delayed Thoughts

 It's a little late to discuss the summer reading books. I'm going to do it anyways since I have't had the chance.

I have loved reading since I was a child. I would read the required books for school happily, and when one caught my eye in the library or was recommended to me, I'd get it, too. I love the experience, I enjoy how books made me think and feel; they're exhilarating. The idea that what I am processing comes from the depths of other person's mind appeals to me, it always has.

Unfortunately, when I grew older, I read less and less. I had school, writing, dancing, and talking to do - I lacked both the patience and time to read. I found it difficult to get into reading avidly again once I stopped. But this summer, while reading Never Let Me Go and Prodigal Summer, the spark was ignited again. That familiar feeling returned as I flipped the pages, wanting to further the stories and my knowledge of the characters. What would Ruth say when Kathy brought up her pathetic attempt to fit in with the older students? She's always such a know-it-all when mad, and she can become quite malevolent. How is Prodigal Summer so endearingly animalistic?

What I enjoyed about these books is that they were academic and enjoyable. (Most of the time.) I haven't been one deem a happy ending essential. Actually, most of the things I write end with no wrapping up of the plot whatsoever. Or I write a "terribly depressing" ending, as family members have said. I enjoy the moral and cognitive value of books and stories. The Most Valuable Game was one of my favorites in middle school, and it still is. I value the craftsmanship of fine books; I felt like I was an art appreciator when reading those novels, stopping to admire certain aspects every so often.

Basically, the summer reading has renewed my desire for reading. I hope that I will see to reading many things this school year, ones that I can take something from, to learn and to dispute.

I'll try not to get caught up in my Senior year, for my own sake.

What is it Exactly?

I often find myself asking the question: What is literature? Not just that, but what is art? It always takes me to different trains of thought.

First, I tend to think back all the way to very beginning of humanity and try to comprehend the start of these things. They were created because humans enjoy expression, right? Forgive me if this sounds silly to ask. That answer seems to shallow in comparison to the complexity of the human mind.

Then, I think it's more along the lines of we need expression. Why? I'm not sure of that. It is necessary for us to somehow, in some way, convey our feelings, thoughts, etc. That's why people keep diaries, teenagers rant, and a lot of the time that's why people talk in general. It's curious, but it's true. Writers and artists - synonymous, really - may have an extended desire to do so, and the ability to carry it out. By them creating, others without such a talent can feel and express, too.

Finally, I become happy with the results of such thinking, but then I come to the most difficult question: Why is it that we aren't always allowed to pronounce how we think or feel if it is so vital to the human psyche? Books have been banned for hundreds of years and they still are today. It is that our ideas, opinions, and thoughts are truly that powerful, that they must be hidden or forbidden? Thoughts have, however, been known to create havoc. But as important as expression of feelings and thoughts are, as long as they're not overtly negative or unlawful like Hitler's idea of the Jews, what's the problem?

I found a music video that was very eye-opening; it touched on this subject. It's very symbolic of the entertainment industry and art, and the oppression that goes along with it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdH1GwyZJuY&feature=player_embedded

They sport the symbol for Art is Resistance:
http://www.artisresistance.com/warning.htm

With that, I had a new lead in my quest for answers. Maybe that's it. Art IS resistance. It liberates us in ways that we - I, at least- don't quite grasp. Sure, this leaves the question of, "How does it free us and why is that so omnipotent?" but I'll have to save that for another day.

The Beginning

I have never had a blog or ever thought I would. I must admit that I feel awkward doing this.I will write about all things concerning literature; how I feel about it, what I got from it. To put my opinions, my interpretations out here feels... strange. I'm the type that usually keeps to myself. Although, I can't say that I am not somewhat enthused to have one.

I am not the best writer out there, surely not, and that adds stress to the whole thing. But I've learned that working under some sort of stress, anxiety, or self-consciousness makes for better, more disciplined results. This could be great for my writing. That being said, I cannot guarantee the most intriguing or well-organized posts. However, I can guarantee that I will grow from this as a writer and as a thinker - two things I would be pleased to advance in.

I hope to gain from this experience, and I hope that you, the reader, might gain something from it, too.