Okay, since my blog is totally useless to you people, I'm going to start writing book reflections. It's one of the things that has never been removed from my to-do-list for ages! I'll write how each book has affected me, how it changed my views or mood at the time.
My love for books started at a very early age. I grew up in the mountains of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I was 2 years old (I think) when my dad brought me and my mom with him. All I know is I celebrated my 3rd birthday there with children from different nationalities: Palestinians, Indians, Egyptians, Syrians. My best description would be that it is the equivalent of a "barrio" in the country. My dad describes it as the "Baguio" of KSA since it's generally cold all year round. Since it's 1980 and cable TV and internet is unheard of, I only have books to pass the time. That and magazines and newspapers. I used to draw and play the piano, too. Both of which I have NOT nurtured and two of my life's biggest regret.
Of what little books we have, I just keep re-reading everything. I'll hoard up on books when we are on vacation in the Philippines and then bring it back with me in Saudi. It became a habit later on and now, more than 3 decades later, when I have so little time to read, I feel less smart (not that I am), when I have not read a book for a month. Imagine how I feel after a few months of not being able to read an entire book. And the months keep passing by. I believe my English skill was honed primarily from my reading habit, secondary to having foreigners as playmates. When I started formal school around the 5th grade and throughout High School, I have better grammar and vocabulary than most kids. Naturally, I assume all book lovers have great English skills, both oral and written. And now I am finding out this is not always the case.
I love the joy and sadness and the anger that comes from reading. When it's in a first-person point of view, it's like I am that person. The character's feelings are my own. And when the book is fantasy or something like that, I get wrapped up in their world. And really imagine how it would be if it's for real. If it's suspense or some other fiction that deals with tragedies, I get so mad on how unfair life is. After I graduated from college, I began reading self-help books or those which has life lessons (like The Alchemist). These lead me to new perceptions in life, relationships, living, and knowing one's self. So, again I assume (assumerang palaka ba ko?) that those who read such books are nicer and wiser. You are what you read, eh? Not.
Photo taken from Pinterest. Credit to owner.
My love for books started at a very early age. I grew up in the mountains of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I was 2 years old (I think) when my dad brought me and my mom with him. All I know is I celebrated my 3rd birthday there with children from different nationalities: Palestinians, Indians, Egyptians, Syrians. My best description would be that it is the equivalent of a "barrio" in the country. My dad describes it as the "Baguio" of KSA since it's generally cold all year round. Since it's 1980 and cable TV and internet is unheard of, I only have books to pass the time. That and magazines and newspapers. I used to draw and play the piano, too. Both of which I have NOT nurtured and two of my life's biggest regret.
Of what little books we have, I just keep re-reading everything. I'll hoard up on books when we are on vacation in the Philippines and then bring it back with me in Saudi. It became a habit later on and now, more than 3 decades later, when I have so little time to read, I feel less smart (not that I am), when I have not read a book for a month. Imagine how I feel after a few months of not being able to read an entire book. And the months keep passing by. I believe my English skill was honed primarily from my reading habit, secondary to having foreigners as playmates. When I started formal school around the 5th grade and throughout High School, I have better grammar and vocabulary than most kids. Naturally, I assume all book lovers have great English skills, both oral and written. And now I am finding out this is not always the case.
I love the joy and sadness and the anger that comes from reading. When it's in a first-person point of view, it's like I am that person. The character's feelings are my own. And when the book is fantasy or something like that, I get wrapped up in their world. And really imagine how it would be if it's for real. If it's suspense or some other fiction that deals with tragedies, I get so mad on how unfair life is. After I graduated from college, I began reading self-help books or those which has life lessons (like The Alchemist). These lead me to new perceptions in life, relationships, living, and knowing one's self. So, again I assume (assumerang palaka ba ko?) that those who read such books are nicer and wiser. You are what you read, eh? Not.
I, for one, look forward to reading your book reflections. (^_^) Keep writing, I always love the truthfulness of each one of them. It allows us to connect to even a glimpse of your heart, mind and soul. <3
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