Dust

Josh and I were having a conversation about reading and writing. He teaches in the Bronx and we both reminisced about our early childhood and school days and the point at which reading and writing became like second nature. I thought about it more afterwards and it became the subject of this entry.

I was about eight or nine years old when writing began its fascination with me. I read back then but usually mysteries; the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys series--remember those? I'm sure if I dug deeper into my past I might find old copies buried somewhere under heaps of sentimental dust.

But as to writing's fascination with me, it found me curious, questioning, eager and daringly persuaded me to put pencil to paper back then, to form my thoughts into words.

Writing and I soon became constant companions. There were times of course when we had our fallouts. My fault usually, for whenever I felt sad or depressed I have often turned my back on writing--wordless. Writing often would return the favor with a loud silence.

These fallouts were never for long though, for I have long learned how to manipulate writing to bring about reconciliation. I found that assuming the proverbial position--pen in hand--worked best.

Reading had placed a considerable second in position to writing for a long time. It was not until I entered college and encountered great courses and professors that the impetus for reading became a priority. The impetus was due in part or whole--I'm not sure which--to professors like Hanley, Soliday, Watts, Oppenheimer and a couple of others whose names I cannot recall.

I recall however, the passion and vigor they all exuded as they taught. The force of their words, their enthusiasm and mostly, their love of the subject at hand and the way they communicated in written and oral forms always left me (and other listeners I'm sure), spellbound and hanging to the edge of our seats.

But it was in college that my attempt at sustained (perhaps sophisticated) reading was achieved. It goes without saying that this in turn helped me fine-tune my writing. I had become more interested in history, art, theories of language, the novel, its origin, poetry, philosophy and the great ancients and their successors held in high esteem by academia.

These days, I read more often than I write but none holds supremacy over the other in terms of which one I prefer. I love both but whether I read or write, I've found that there is always room for improvement.