Senior Seminar Paper(ignore)

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HOW I SEE MYSELF AS A WRITER AND READER2

My experiences as a writer have been reinvented throughout my life since I was nine years old. Before then, my father sat me down nightly to read “Treasure Island” to me. As he read it to me, I would imagine the words themselves in my head. I would think about how they were spelt and what they meant. 3

Using the words he read to me from that book, I would start writing the stories to share with my dad. That book, those nights is what started, I learned to be, one of the most important things in my life. Then at the age of nine, I was playing with the words that eventually turned into the firsts of all my writing works. Then I became reliant on the words to get me through rough times and to augment the good times. It became my way of release. To me, an eleven year old girl, it was a manner of being heard with out having to tell. 4

When I turned twelve years old, my parents divorced. Through that experience, I learned that writing could do so much more than relieve some stress. It paints a picture of one’s life. I go back and read what I wrote and it brings back so much for me. The neglect, the fighting, and becoming twenty-one at twelve all comes back as I read the memories scribbled on the paper. 5

By the time I was fourteen, I had realized that I had a voice through writing. Writing was my comfort. Sure, I had caring friends, but I wasn’t ready to let them know every dripping detail of my life. Yeah, I had family, but for some reason, I felt that if I told ANYONE it would leave me vulnerable. That was my life story, and if I told, I was handing out my security. When I wrote, I didn’t have to tell people how I thought of them, I just wrote it down. Just like I wrote everything else down. 6

Fifteen was the hardest age for me. I fell in love, and of course, I wrote about it everyday. About how he made me feel, about our future plans as far as our Friday dates and I wrote about every single second we were together. Before I knew it, the best 9 months of my life were gone and I was sitting at his funeral. He was gone, and I thought I was alone yet again. My mom was never home, I wouldn’t dare burden my siblings with my problems, and I haven’t seen my dad for almost 5 months at this time. I gave up writing and hope, because the only thing I had time for anymore was sleeping. 7

When I decided I needed to get over myself and stop being selfish, whenever I got upset about him, I would write. I continued my days, happy and content with my brother and sister…and writing. It had come to my rescue, once more. Many unfortunate things happen and there are more to come, but writing is something I knew I had control of. Nobody can control the future, and they can only reminisce of the past. However I had control over writing, and it was the only sure thing in my life. 8

To say the very least, writing has always played a role in my play called life. Not as the main setting or idea, but maybe a theme or even a vice for the main character (but not the immoral kind of vice).9

Through writing I have learned to become independent. Due to what I’ve been through and how writing has helped, I know there’s nobody like myself that I can rely on. Conversely, reading isn’t exactly what writing is to me. I love readiong poetry and things for the mind, like psychology. Reading to just read really isn’t on my list of hobbies.. The time when reading meant the most to me was when my dad read to me. Growing up, my grandma always encouraged me to always get a book form the library. She would always say to read the first two pages and if I didn’t like it then, just put it back. There are very few books to this day which I couldn’t put down after the first two pages. 10

On the other hand, I loved when my grandma and dad read to me. When they read, I played a movie using their voices and my imagination. I had an image of the characters in their setting and I let them dance and sing to the storyline that poured from my loved ones mouths. Admiration came from me as they made the story come to life. Reading was never my thing, because the story never seems to have a pulse when I was reading it. Even when I TRIED to indulge myself in the story, it never kept me interested like they managed to do. 11

Understanding that reading and writing go hand in hand, I still find writing to be more appealing. 12