In early July of this year, while studying for my GRE at my local library, I finally shook off the heavy dread that I have associated with the idea of having to read for most of my life. Consequently, after all of those personal GRE study sessions at my local library, I finally decided to look past the table and/or cubicle in front of me and acknowledge the most prominent aspect of the library: the books.
You see, I am not one to read. I cringe at the sight of a thick novel. I am NOT exaggerating. Seriously. No, REALLY. To those who have only slightly encountered me on campus, this may come as a surprise. It may appear to many of my colleagues and fellow classmates that I am an erudite scholar who spends most of his free time reading a countless number of books, just for “fun.” To anyone who knows me very well, however, that is very far from being truth. Just to put it into perspective, I have not owned a library card since middle school. Even then, I did not voluntarily request one like I did about a month ago when looking past the study spaces in my library—even if a fair amount of doubts almost entirely characterized that second incidence.
During that year of middle school when I had to obtain a library card, I honestly only came to have one because our English class grade would otherwise be largely affected by our inaction. We would need to amply utilize the resources that our local library offered if we were to expect a decent grade for our end-of-the-year research project. Of course, citing a book title that the local library may or may not have had—in hopes that you would get a 50/50 chance of your teacher not noticing—was not even an option for your research paper. We needed to personally present our library cards to our teacher for us to receive full points on the preliminary gathering of sources.
Once that term finished, not surprisingly, at almost the same pace that it took for me to sign up for a library card (after hearing that it would be part of the grading criteria for our huge research project that year), I “misplaced” my library card.
Back then and until recently, it was scary to have to think that I would have to devote a huge chunk of my time—where I can just as well be doing something that aligns better with my idea of fun—to reading a book... even if it were “for fun” as they say.
They (the patrons of habitual reading), however, are doing something remarkable not only for themselves but for those around them, now AND in the future.
As for where I stand now, I have to admit, I still get shaken up a bit by the use of the oxymoron “fun read.” Nonetheless, I am left in awe every time a professor, friend or family member talk about how he or she couldn’t even put down X or Y books in the XYZ series.
We can all agree that reading takes a lot of courage, commitment, passion and many other often hard-to-find traits within us. That should not deter us from picking up a book, though. The hardest part, I have discovered, is starting. After you get through the first few words, the first few pages, the first few chapters, everything just seems so much brighter. You are immersed in a story that knows no limits but those put on by your own imagination. That book you are holding at that very moment may perhaps be the getaway you’ve always needed from the troubles that often seem to obtrusively enter and stain our otherwise happy lives.
A month after becoming a library cardholder, I am happy to say that I have checked out a good number of great books that have benefited not only me in the present, but also now and in the future.
