On reading and writing...
Through my years at college, I have learned many a useful thing. Among the most important of which is my newfound passion for reading and writing. Though these are of the most fundamental tools; the ideals of what it means to be reader, and what it mean to be a writer are among my greatest aspirations. The concepts are so beautiful and miraculous.
I first began writing as I learned to write in school. Yet the art of writing is something which has managed to elude my entire educational experience. There has been the odd fiction writing class, or essay work-shop here or there. Yet no attempt at focusing this art form has been set on MY expression, but rather my ability to express the ideas of another. As a result my writing to this day is quite rough and crude as any cowboy from a good western film has been. More about utility than eloquence or beauty. Yet it is the ideal of writing like a beautiful courtier from the nineteen hundreds that motivates me to be critical.
I first began reading in preschool and perhaps before. My educational system proved to be much more competent in the ways of reading as a consumption of art. Yet it was only within the last few years that I began to truly consume art independently of an external force. My personal gateway was through the critical arguments I read in my sociology classes. I believe it was because I was continuously reading arguments that intrigued me. Whether I agreed or disagreed I throughly enjoyed the ideas being set forth and so it was through this that I could begin to see the writing styles and the beauty of the art. So after many years of being exposed to the art form I am finally taking charge of my own education.
Yet what I have begun to realize is that these two passions I have developed are not shared by many others. I am not surprised by this realization since it was only recently that I truly began to appreciate. Yet, it saddens me to know that these two shining stars in the educational system are so often out-shown by the floodlight of school work, deadlines, and the busy day-to-day lives of each beautifully individual person. Or how many other jewels I have lost and not yet recovered... mathematics? the sciences? the arts? sports?
Often I wonder, why the focus of man always seems to be so near. Why, though we have succeeded in creating the arts and the sciences; can we not live our lives in them? It has been my meaning of life question. I have never really wondered or cared for the meaning of life. So my eternal question, which will plague me till the end of time, is "why can we not live higher? Above the drama, above the deadlines? Why can we not live with the stars?"
I first began writing as I learned to write in school. Yet the art of writing is something which has managed to elude my entire educational experience. There has been the odd fiction writing class, or essay work-shop here or there. Yet no attempt at focusing this art form has been set on MY expression, but rather my ability to express the ideas of another. As a result my writing to this day is quite rough and crude as any cowboy from a good western film has been. More about utility than eloquence or beauty. Yet it is the ideal of writing like a beautiful courtier from the nineteen hundreds that motivates me to be critical.
I first began reading in preschool and perhaps before. My educational system proved to be much more competent in the ways of reading as a consumption of art. Yet it was only within the last few years that I began to truly consume art independently of an external force. My personal gateway was through the critical arguments I read in my sociology classes. I believe it was because I was continuously reading arguments that intrigued me. Whether I agreed or disagreed I throughly enjoyed the ideas being set forth and so it was through this that I could begin to see the writing styles and the beauty of the art. So after many years of being exposed to the art form I am finally taking charge of my own education.
Yet what I have begun to realize is that these two passions I have developed are not shared by many others. I am not surprised by this realization since it was only recently that I truly began to appreciate. Yet, it saddens me to know that these two shining stars in the educational system are so often out-shown by the floodlight of school work, deadlines, and the busy day-to-day lives of each beautifully individual person. Or how many other jewels I have lost and not yet recovered... mathematics? the sciences? the arts? sports?
Often I wonder, why the focus of man always seems to be so near. Why, though we have succeeded in creating the arts and the sciences; can we not live our lives in them? It has been my meaning of life question. I have never really wondered or cared for the meaning of life. So my eternal question, which will plague me till the end of time, is "why can we not live higher? Above the drama, above the deadlines? Why can we not live with the stars?"