From the days where I was still donning a bang, and my hair was styled in what I love to term as 'the bowl cut', I was obsessed with the written word. It started when my primary school used to distribute book order forms. I'd run home, in nervous excitement, wanting to show my parents all the boxes I had ticked on the sheet of paper, not knowing whether they'd say yes to my ridiculously long list of literary wishes. Of course, they'd always say no to more than 90% of what I wanted in an attempt not to spoil me. But that didn't really matter - to get at least one yes was always a thrill to a little girl who treasured the smell of those new pages as they were quickly flipped through with her fingers. The joy really bubbled through and through when the book order lady came to each of our classes, calling out our names and holding out the bag which held what we had purchased a few weeks before. If there was anything my few dollars of pocket money ever went to as a child - it would be to add to the books sitting on my shelf.
My first crazy fixation was with the Baby Sitters Club, then it was with Enid Blyton as I followed those kids who climbed that tree which took them to the most amazing far away magical lands (I can still read this set with the same happiness and enjoyment as I did when I was a child), then as I was discovering and learning about the concept of love - Anne of Green Gables and I crossed paths and I was smitten with the red head who was strong willed, witty, sensitive, smart, romantic, and beautiful as she went through life looking for love and nurturing her passion for writing. Then as I grew up my curious mind chased after the brilliant and brave Nancy Drew as she solved the most exciting mysteries and crimes. I thought she was so cool, that it inspired me to try and write my own mystery thrillers. Try, was the key word :)
Since then, my tastes in literature have become more sparse due to work, but the plus side is that it has matured and grown to be a lot more varied as well. Authors such as David Eddings, Mary Higgins Clark, John Grisham, Nicholas Sparks, to name a few have made their place on my shelves.... but today, here is what I added:
Of a slightly different kind of fiction literature is my love for really really good poetry. Over the years, none has impressed me more than this author - Charles Simic. He is strange, funny, dark, and insightful all at the same time. His is the kind of poetry you will need to read several times over to understand the meaning of the piece, but once you do, it hits you like a flood.
For a taste, here is one such example from Simic:
Enter without knocking, hard-working ant.
I'm just sitting here mulling over
What to do this dark, overcast day?
It was a night of the radio turned down low,
Fitful sleep, vague, troubling dreams.
I woke up lovesick and confused.
I thought I heard Estella in the garden singing
And some bird answering her,
But it was the rain. Dark tree tops swaying
And whispering. "Come to me my desire,"
I said. And she came to me by and by,
Her breath smelling of mint, her tongue
Wetting my cheek, and then she vanished.
Slowly day came, a gray streak of daylight
To bathe my hands and face in.
Hours passed, and then you crawled
Under the door, and stopped before me.
You visit the same tailors the mourners do,
Mr. Ant. I like the silence between us,
The quiet--that holy state even the rain
Knows about. Listen to her begin to fall,
As if with eyes closed,
Muting each drop in her wild-beating heart.
It has been a long long while since I've made the decision to add to my literature collection (I am fussy :p), but when I do at times like today, I am thrilled just the same as that little bookworm girl who sat in her primary school class waiting for her name to be called to collect her bag of purchases.
For those waiting for another post with photos from a shoot, have a listen to my fave tracks this past week in the meantime to keep you warm :) :