So I've been meaning to keep a journal
to depict my gloriously happy, carefree holiday life, but have lacked
motivation due to the long list of books I've yet to read. Plus, with
more reading, I realize the more I write, the greater the exposure of
me as a truly amateur writer, thus. Now I guess I'll just set aside
the ego of wanting to always sound sassy and smart in my writings,
and just be plain.
Confession: I've come to the big
realization that reading is my life. I've always thought that writing
is, too. I even started spending time away from my books few years
ago and worked on my own novel. I'd just sit there and think of the
world and other random annoying things and wait for ideas to come in.
The point I realized writing is not part of my talents (yet), was
when I read the skeleton of the so-called novel I've started 5 years
back, my age entirely reflected in those writings. Stay with a writer
long enough and you'd see the shadows of him/herself among the book
characters. For my novel, try as I may to cover up, almost all of the
characters have the shadows of people around me. So amateur. I'm not
as mature to compose independent characters solely on my mind yet I
guess. Same goes to my descriptive skills. I've lacked the patience
to focus on describing the place setting and the individual emotions
in each character, thus making the novel a plain narration, painfully
lacking in-depth analysis and main theme behind the story.
There are novels and stories that are
exhilarating, but at the end of the reading, you realize it's a story
for entertainment. It's a book for learning vocabs and writing
styles, that's it. I don't want my book to end like that. At the end
of my story, as much as I want the people to feel entertained, I want
them to ponder on things, and think of the many what-ifs in the
story, or even put themselves into the character and think, what if.
And hopefully they'll spring into actions for things they've been
meaning to do but lacked motivation nevertheless. If my name ever
makes it to a book cover, I hope this is what my readers get from me.
Writing a novel itself is difficult task, because unlike elementary
and high schools where the essay titles are repetitive and
predictable, you can strengthen your writing by just reading enough
sample essays. And that, exactly, is the downfall of language
education in the country I suppose. To be narrative and descriptive
takes observation. Of the surroundings, of the people, of the
sentence structures and core ideas of the books we read. And the list
goes on. And thus, I've decided to cruelly abort the planning I'd
earlier laid down for my novel (most likely in fetal state, if not
embryo), and start anew.
Reading has been so important since
the revolutionary invention of printing technology by Johannes
Gutenberg in 15th century. However, the emergence of
Internet and Google in the 20th century and smart devices
in the 21st have long made people resort to easily Google
only when a piece of information is needed, neglecting the importance
of building knowledge foundation through consistent reading. Not to mention how
much time we've wasted in the black hole of Internet and networking
websites (perhaps it's only me). I've long neglected reading too. I'd
often be too tired from academic lessons and assignments to think of
any subject apart from my lessons. So that's what holidays are for.
This holiday has been the most productive holiday to date, thanks to
a book fair where all the most exquisite collection of books are
brought out of the closets (shelves, or maybe storerooms) and sold at
very affordable prices.
There's an old saying in China which
encourages walking a thousand miles rather than to read a thousand
books. Of course that means travelling. In the past, travelling were
not made as complicated as these days. There're passport and Visa
procedure charges, flight tickets, bus fares and hotel rooms to pay
for, travelling tips and crime rates to be aware of before getting to
a desired destination, and then to pay for entrance fee again (OK I
admit I'm far too realistic and sceptical to be a carefree
backpacker). So that narrows down the number of places you can really
go, unless you one day wake up in Sharpay's room where everything is
in all shades of pink and fluffy and asthma-inducing with infinity
number of platinum cards and estates. Since I'm still here with
parents who over worry and get paranoia every time I travel to
somewhere new, I decided that reading is the new way of cheap and
easy travelling. No need for planning the journey and researching for
more places to cram into the limited days.
In the past 5 weeks, I've visited
Egypt; England through the Hundred Years War to the tales of the 6 wives of Henry
VIII; France during Napoleon era; travelled through time
to America when Columbus first found it (but mistook it for India
even in his deathbed), when She has not even claimed its independence
and then eventually progressing to the point of sharing Martin Luther
King's American dream; and all the way to Germany when Neuchwanstein
Castle was first built, to the golden era when Beethoven, Bach,
Wagner and Handel inspired the world with music and Johannes
Gutenberg's printer catalyzing the promotion of literacy in the
world, until some extremist called Adolf Hitler came bombing the name
of Germany to ashes in the eyes of the world.
Having read about history and great
people in the few countries I could manage in this short period, I
agree that travelling is going to enhance my knowledge and I just know I'm going to do it for real in the future when I can fund my own vacations (and shopping). However
pretty the pictures and illustrations in the books, to have actually
walked in the castles and squares are different. Imagine walking in Bath together with Jane Austen in parallel
universe; Leeds Castle with young Catherine and Owen Tudor; in Milan
with Leonardo da Vinci; Chambord Castle with Henry II and Diana (much
to Catherine de Medici's jealousy); and in Heidelberg Schloss with
Goethe and the Jewish Marianna where Goethe wrote,
“I lost my heart in Heidelberg, on a balmy summer night
In love head over heels, oh were she all mine
And like a rose, her laughing mouth my light as by the gates she said good-bye
That last sweet kiss, it did confirm once more
I'd lost my heart in Heidelberg forever, my heart still beats on Neckar's shore
Whatever happened to you, since you and I did part
Oh Heidelberg of legend, you German paradise?
I went away and left you, left wine and happy days
I long to be, I long to be, back in your arms always.”
while Marianna wrote,
“In the high walls where flowers blossom, I found my beloved him.”
Reading, writing and travelling. Perhaps one day, I can do them all.
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| The very reason I'll be so homesick in 3 weeks. |
