Tuesday, July 16, 2013


If you had one word people could use to describe you - what would your special word be? Would it be an adjective, a noun or possibly even a verb? Would your word depict an inter-relational reality or would it be selfishly indulgent?

The other day I was stalking investigating my graduating class' "next chapter", when I came across a girl I was in halls with. She is tall and skinny and has fire-red hair. She always seemed like a nice person, but with the exception of seeing her at the occasional party or around town, her and I never talked for more than 10 minutes at a time. Bluntly, we are strangers. Yet, I know her.* I know her because, my friends, I know the one word people use to describe her. That girl has found something in life that defines her, brings her joy, and is worth chasing after. You see, she's got passion. A passion for books. And everyone knows. She's familiar with pretty much every book - from classic to contemporary, she's probably read them all because she reads all the time. She loves books and she loves reading. In fact, as Facebook informs me, she loves reading so much that she cannot imagine a day better spend but in bed reading. She's got her priorities straight, and books are at the very top of her list.

Now, I like books, too. And I read books. Frequently even. But, comparing this girl to me, I came to realize, I don't love books enough to schedule my priorities around them. I read books when there is nothing else to do, like for example when I am on the train. Or when there is no electricity. Or when I have to do it for class. Don't get me wrong, I always liked the idea of having a very big library at home. With beautiful old books, neatly arranged in dark-wooden shelves. I also always wanted to be this one impressive dinner guest who could talk eloquently about any book at any time, the one person who, with such ease, quotes from the most famous classics as small talk proceeds. I enjoy reading in bed all day long, completely soaking up a world that is not my own. Yet, I am no longer the book-nerd I was back in second grade. Even if in my mind I still think of myself as one. I may read more books than the average Joe, but that doesn't make me a book-lover, needless to say passionate about books. Nor does playing the guitar make me a musician, or going for a run a marathon runner. One of the things I've come to terms with over this past year is that a passion for this one special something isn't me. I tried but I like a lot of things and I like all these things equally well.

* That is compared to most strangers.

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