Advertisement of myself:
I refused to be an ignoramus, uninformed of the essentials of human intellect. So one day, I decided not to go out and hang around with my friends shooting the breeze. I stayed home and started reading. In due time, I changed. I fancied that I was smart. I became arrogant. I realized I was lucky. I discovered the joys of reading. I read books far into the night until my eyes hurt and I passed out with the book on my chest.
I began paying attention to words and sentences and paragraphs. I discovered rhythm, cadence, and the sheer poetry of words. I became words. Words became part of me. I did all this first in English, then I expanded my horizon. I tried French and Spanish and several others. I even tackled Chinese. My mind was exploding. I started having theories about this and that, especially about the functions of the human mind. Then I began writing, one sentence at a time. I used certain expressions over and over again. One day, I discovered that I could articulate my thoughts in a clear manner. Writing became an obsession. I was trying to save myself from myself. I was trying to beat depression. I was trying to be happy.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment