Well, it seems to me that nothing is going to get done today. I've been staring at this blog going "will you write yourself already?" and it just was not doing as it was told. So rather than try to think up something clever and witty, I figured I would tell you all a bit of my history and why I read as much as I do.
We all have it. A reason for doing something we love. For some, it's as simple as the love was fostered as a child and doing it reminds us of simpler days. For me, reading came as a bit of a salvation.
Originally I am from New York - upstate for those curious. We moved to North Carolina when I was six, and everything was different here. The weather was hotter and muggier, the plants all caused me to itch, I was literally allergic to nearly everything.
When I was seven, it was discovered that on top of being allergic to poison ivy and chiggers, I was also allergic to pine needles. Which, for those who do not know, MIGHT AS WELL BE NORTH CAROLINA'S STATE TREE! They are flipping everywhere.
Any time I would come into contact with one of the three above, I would have to later on go to the hospital for a shot because I would break out and it wouldn't go away.
So it became easier for me to stay inside. It's not that I minded shots. I was never a squeamish child. But, going to the doctors every time would become costly. I somewhat understood money and the fact that while not poor, we weren't rich either.
Books became a way for me to enjoy the world. Any world. The more magical, the more it fascinated me. I say they were my salvation because if I had not had them to turn to, I probably would have become some mindless child sitting in front of the television all day.
Well, that's my story. What about you all? What began your love for reading?
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