Wednesday, January 27, 2010


Before, I learned how to read English, I learned how to read Hebrew, even though I couldn't speak it. Before that, I knew how to speak Russian, even though I couldn't read it.

In 1st grade, I learned how to read (English). I don't remember this at all. I have one vague memory of being in a hallway, reading simple sentences. I think I quickly loved reading/writing. In 2nd grade I started keeping a diary. I've read it a few times since then and in every entry I would detail which books I checked out from the library and what I thought about them. I would constantly write stories that I never finished. I was really proud of reading my first "chapter book" (Bernstein Bears, I think).

I was a very avid reader. I read all day long, and would get many books from the library at once, and read all of them. In 4th grade, I checked out Gone With the Wind because I think I knew it was an extremely long book. I never finished it but got probably 600 pages in. I remember it was the first book I read where the text was in columns and the font was extremely small. I would read Stephen King and John Grisham books, remembering that "Misery" was my favorite King book, and all Grisham books seemed essentially the same.

I was, in fact, a fanatical child hood reader of books. I would lock myself in the bathroom and read so no one would bother me. I frequently read at least 2-3 books a day during the summer (young adult).

As I grew older and became forced to read in school, this early love for reading faded. Reading began to seem like a time trade off with other tasks. Strangely enough, I am now seriously considering a career in accounting. I don't even know what I like to do anymore.

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