Reading and I have never really gotten along. We have more of a love-hate relationship. I read about as much as I exercise, which is only when I’m really determined. When I was younger, reading was my favorite thing to do. I loved every aspect of it. But, throughout the years, it hasn’t grown on me. In reality, it is slowly fading out of my life.
When I was little, my dad worked late hours as a police officer. So, I didn’t see him very often. But, when I did see him, we read together. We read stories like The Flintstones and Scooby Doo. We read in the mornings, during the day, and at night. We didn’t really get to choose whenever we read. It was whenever we had the opportunity to spend time with each other. I love my dad, and he is the reason that my intricate affiliation with reading began.
As I got older, reading became more necessary for school. Around the 2nd grade, reading was for points. Each 9 weeks, we had a goal we had to reach. Also, our points went towards rewards. There was a competition for who could get the most points. I’m a very, VERY competitive person. I love to win. Yes, that may sound really selfish, but it was how I was raised. At the end of every 9 weeks, there was an awards ceremony. No matter rain or shine, my dad was always there with me. Year after year, I was in the Top 5 for the most points. And for different point values, we got beads to put around our neck. I always had so many beads that I made my dad wear some of them. But, after we stopped receiving rewards, I slowly quit reading as much. Before long, reading became forced upon us. I’m the type of person who will do something, as long as it isn’t forced upon me. More and more each year, we were forced to read during any free time we had. Reading and I hit that bumpy road in about 7th grade, and ever since we have been struggling to get back to solid ground.
Now, being in high school, I know reading is a necessity for life. I know that I will need it in every aspect of my career, no matter what the career may be. And when I think of reading now, I think of my mother. My mother reviews books for a website. Authors personally email her and send her free copies of books, just for her to review them. She loves reading, and when I come home from school and want to tell her all about my day, she makes me go away. Lately, she has been too busy with her books to talk me. Most parents bug their children, asking what happened in their day, and most of their children shrug it off and leave. But, my family is very different. She’s the child, and I’m the parent in our household when it comes to wanting to talk to the other. She has taken reading to a level that I can’t even comprehend. She works all day, and comes home to do more work. She complains all the time about how tired she is, and complains about her “long day.” Yet, when I have a bad day, she can’t listen to me. She reads fervently as if her life depended upon it.
Now, whenever I do read, I like to read about things such as murder, crime, suspense, etc. I love stories that will keep me flipping pages until I literally cannot keep my eyes open any longer. I love having the images in my head of someone being chased for their lives. I love feeling scared of what the next page will hold. Suspense is my best friend. I don’t enjoy all the romance novels as most girls seem to these days. I love the twists and turns and the unexpected outcomes that a book will withhold from the world. But acquiring a book that lives up to my standards is a long and perplexing journey that I don’t enjoy taking.
So, reading and I don’t really like each other most of the time. I don’t want to end up ignoring everyone who needs me just because I’m reading. It really doesn’t fit into my life as well as it should. I also don’t read because I can’t find the time. So, in my head of course, I believe we dont need books anyways. Reading and I are like a lamp and a desert, unrelated and irrelevant to the others existence.
When I was little, my dad worked late hours as a police officer. So, I didn’t see him very often. But, when I did see him, we read together. We read stories like The Flintstones and Scooby Doo. We read in the mornings, during the day, and at night. We didn’t really get to choose whenever we read. It was whenever we had the opportunity to spend time with each other. I love my dad, and he is the reason that my intricate affiliation with reading began.
As I got older, reading became more necessary for school. Around the 2nd grade, reading was for points. Each 9 weeks, we had a goal we had to reach. Also, our points went towards rewards. There was a competition for who could get the most points. I’m a very, VERY competitive person. I love to win. Yes, that may sound really selfish, but it was how I was raised. At the end of every 9 weeks, there was an awards ceremony. No matter rain or shine, my dad was always there with me. Year after year, I was in the Top 5 for the most points. And for different point values, we got beads to put around our neck. I always had so many beads that I made my dad wear some of them. But, after we stopped receiving rewards, I slowly quit reading as much. Before long, reading became forced upon us. I’m the type of person who will do something, as long as it isn’t forced upon me. More and more each year, we were forced to read during any free time we had. Reading and I hit that bumpy road in about 7th grade, and ever since we have been struggling to get back to solid ground.
Now, being in high school, I know reading is a necessity for life. I know that I will need it in every aspect of my career, no matter what the career may be. And when I think of reading now, I think of my mother. My mother reviews books for a website. Authors personally email her and send her free copies of books, just for her to review them. She loves reading, and when I come home from school and want to tell her all about my day, she makes me go away. Lately, she has been too busy with her books to talk me. Most parents bug their children, asking what happened in their day, and most of their children shrug it off and leave. But, my family is very different. She’s the child, and I’m the parent in our household when it comes to wanting to talk to the other. She has taken reading to a level that I can’t even comprehend. She works all day, and comes home to do more work. She complains all the time about how tired she is, and complains about her “long day.” Yet, when I have a bad day, she can’t listen to me. She reads fervently as if her life depended upon it.
Now, whenever I do read, I like to read about things such as murder, crime, suspense, etc. I love stories that will keep me flipping pages until I literally cannot keep my eyes open any longer. I love having the images in my head of someone being chased for their lives. I love feeling scared of what the next page will hold. Suspense is my best friend. I don’t enjoy all the romance novels as most girls seem to these days. I love the twists and turns and the unexpected outcomes that a book will withhold from the world. But acquiring a book that lives up to my standards is a long and perplexing journey that I don’t enjoy taking.
So, reading and I don’t really like each other most of the time. I don’t want to end up ignoring everyone who needs me just because I’m reading. It really doesn’t fit into my life as well as it should. I also don’t read because I can’t find the time. So, in my head of course, I believe we dont need books anyways. Reading and I are like a lamp and a desert, unrelated and irrelevant to the others existence.
I love your frist paragraph because I was the same and I love it that you said "I am a very, VERY competitive person". I am the same and I like it that you are being honest in your essay which makes it more catchy. Great job!!
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