I love books so much that, I guess you can say that, they became a problem. My love of books was so strong that it got in the way of my school work. I just wanted to read instead of doing homework. I know this sounds weird; books are a problem, how? Well, they were for me. I was caught up in the fantasies of everything that I read, that I didn’t want to do much else. This may seem as if I have no social life, but actually I was a very social girl. To be completely honest, most of the time I was overly social/hyper and had to be told to calm down. I was a part of my school’s cross-country, Indoor and Outdoor track teams, as well as our Eco club. I just really liked to read, to the point, that I was obsessed. My reading affected my desire to do homework, but it also affected how I do the work especially when it came to writing. I could write creatively, there’s no doubt. On the other hand when the writing was structured, I fell flat.
I grew up being read to, which later led to me reading on my own. I was read all kinds of stories by my mom and dad. Most were fantasies, you know the ones. Princesses, Pirates, Berenstain Bears, caterpillars, and more were my childhood. My parents both pushed me along to becoming a reader. To me, though, I saw my dad supporting me a little bit more. He would, most of the time, be the one to buy me my new books and he was the one that showed me what it was to be a true reader. The person who reads in there spare time, the one who knows there favorite books or maybe can’t pick a favorite, the person who wants to read and is always looking for the next book to pick up; that is a true reader to me since that what I saw when I looked at my dad. He was a true reader and I wanted to grow up to be one too so I could be just like him.
Growing up I’ve always remembered seeing the stacks of books around the house. When I lived in Windsor Locks my first home I remember, the piles were mainly in mom and dad’s room beside their bed and I had one too beside mine. When I taught myself to read I couldn’t stop. I was reading as much as I could because it pleased me and gave me the feelings of adventure and fantasy that I always dream about. Many of these times I would eventually fall asleep with my read of the moment somewhere near me or on me. This was especially true during the summer time. I could be social when I wanted to, but a lot of the times I would prefer not to. Instead, I would go over to where ever the books were and read ignoring everything else around me. This is how I continued to act as I grew up as well.
Fourth grade, in particular, was a time that I remember that my reading habits were shown during the school time. That year I remember that in the classroom we had this book corner at one side of the classroom right by the window sill. It was small, but it served its purpose. Most of the time you would find me there sitting reading. I can remember many times there was a problem that occurred when the teacher was doing attendance. While everyone else is attentive listening for their name, I wasn’t paying attention, I wasn’t even in my seat. I was over in the book corner on the far side of the room engrossed in my read of the day; even if I’ve read 50 times already. I had already read all of the books in that tiny bookshelf and had made my way through the ones in the library and the special needs rooms library. The teacher calls out my name but I don’t hear. I was too enthralled by the book, but eventually I do hear her calling my name and make my way back to my seat reluctantly. I was always the book girl, always in some sort of fantasy about who knows what. In 5th grade, you would always see me as the girl who would dash to the library to pick out a new book. I would always come out with a book and also at least 5 scholastic book order sheets. I would take those sheets home and scour over them to find what I wanted to get next. Then I guess is when the problem started. When I’d rather read then do my homework. I can remember very well a time when it became too big of a problem.
It was 12th grade French class. My senior year in high school, the year in which I was supposed to do my best so that I could graduate and go to college. My reading though almost changed everything. I was assigned this assignment for french class, a project where I was an artist from the renaissance time period and I was supposed to write a paper about my artist’s life. This assignment terrified me so much, so what do I do, read and read instead of doing the project. I lost track of time and soon enough the first draft of the assignment was due. I had only written a little tiny bit and I walk into class and in shame walked up to my teacher’s desk and told her that I didn’t do the assignment. I had to sit in the back of the room and work on it while everyone else was able to get peer edits. Though me being the person I was, I didn’t want to work on it. So I did what I normally did, sit in the back, pull up my Wattpad and read. My mom soon discovered what I had done, I think my teacher had told her one of the times they were talking. I could just see the disappointment on her face, as she got mad about me not doing the assignment. I had been trying to get better at doing what I was needed to and this was supposed to be the year that I didn’t fall behind. Well, I was already behind in French class due to me forgetting to do other assignments. If I didn’t do this one I would be failing French class and wouldn’t be able to continue to participate in cross-country. I ended up getting myself together and do the assignment correctly with help from the teacher, who my mom made me go see every day before practice. It still almost got to the point that my reading would have been the cause of me losing another big part of my life, cross-country.
Though reading was a problem when it came to school and such, it was also saved me. It was a huge part of me that gave me something to believe in. My world around me could get very difficult to want to live in at many points, from bullying to losing friends, to boy problems and hard assignments, I didn’t really enjoy where I was a lot of the time. That was where reading came in for me. Whenever I read I was able to just ignore everything around me. I wasn’t Samantha Lynn Vigue anymore, I was whoever the main character of the book was. I could escape into the fantasy world and just be free. Nothing else mattered, I could be whoever and do whatever. Books took me on a wild ride and I let them. I did it all, you could say, whatever the characters did, I did. Nothing to worry about and nothing you needed to do. That was the life. All I needed to do was read.
I was the girl who had her nose stuck in a book, really I was the girl who was always on an adventure.
I know, books being a problem and a savior seems really weird. Thinking about it though, I realized that maybe it really isn’t a problem. Reading is a savior to me in many ways. Especially since a lot of the time what happens in the books are more preferable than real life. In the stories you have the conflicts, but you always know in the back of your mind that it will get better and it will end happier. Well sometimes they don’t but you still get trapped in them, hoping and praying for them, since to me viewing someone else’s life can be so much more desirable. When I read I’m not myself, I’m in someone else’s world. Reading may have caused me to get into trouble in school, but really it was my choice and I probably would have found something else also that would have kept me from homework if I wasn’t reading. Procrastination is the real problem; Books are just the means by which I procrastinate, and it still is today. I’m still in this situation where I would rather read, but that’s really me trying to escape reality. Everyone has problems, but some don’t have was to overcome them. I still have problems, but reading keeps me away from those problems. I may still get distracted by reading, but I can say I’m at least able to recognize it and give myself set times to read before going back to my work. Sometimes I get too into the book and can’t pull away for a while, but eventually I go back to what I’m supposed to do. I don’t think I’m going to ever think less of reading, reading is my guide to surviving. I may always be the girl with her nose stuck in a book or living in a fantasy to the outside world, but to me and anyone who truly knows me I’m always and forever the girl on the adventure.