The driveway, rough, and cold, was an ideal canvas for my
three year old hands. I held the dry crumbly chalk uncomfortably in my left
hand, fingers trembling with excitement. The crisp summer night created a
sunset landscape of orange and yellow. Sun sinking, the time was nearing when
I would first express my thoughts in a visual way via the cold dry yellow
chalk. As my knees pressed into the loose layer of pebbles on the concrete
and my right hand braced my weight I drew out a long yellow line for the horizon.
My heart jumped as I realized the power of expression.
For the next hour I sat shaping my masterpiece, a yellow sun setting across
an orange horizon marked with houses and trees. With curvy lines I attempted
writing a caption for the picture. In my head I wanted to write what the picture
was and identify the artist was but could only create a mass of confusing
scribbles. In time my interest in writing would grow and form me into who
I am today.
As I began school my reading and writing skills improved, but not at the rate
that most kids achieved. Slurred and slow reading placed me in chapter one
reading, a special class focused on helping students with reading. These classes
made me feel incapable of reading like other kids so I took up an interest
in writing. I wrote long stories about pirates and treasures often running
into the margins of my notebook paper. I rejoiced at school every time a writing
assignment allowed us to tell stories freely.
As reading fell behind my writing I became stronger and more interested in
the stories I could create. Writing allowed me to create elaborate worlds
where I was king and the characters did whatever I wanted. As I grew older
teachers became pickier on things like grammar and spelling. Due to my lack
of reading I struggled with the proper spelling of words and the complex structures
of sentences. Strict teachers and the introduction of cursive turned me away
from writing for many years.
With my favorite past time lost, I began searching for something new. I became
interested in juggling, unicycling, and magic. These hobbies took time and
practice, but more importantly forced me back into reading to learn. The tips
and tricks for my new hobbies could only be found in big books from my local
library. As I grew into a juggler I also, unknowingly, grew into a reader.
I found that the more time I spent reading the books the better I became at
juggling and magic. Soon I could sit down and read through an entire non-fiction
book about Houdini, a task that would have been impossible just years before.
My interest in reading nonfiction lead into small fiction books related to
my interests. I now read from many of my favorite authors like Michael Criton,
Douglas Preston, and Lincoln Child. The books I read may range from just a
few hundred pages up to levels that I would have previously never conceived
of reading. I still show the signs that put me in my early reading classes.
Long books usually take months to read rather than weeks, and reading out
loud causes me to mix up word order. But I still enjoy a good book.
My interest in writing never quite returned, at least not in the same form.
The desire to create worlds that I wrote the rules brought me into computer
programming. Rather than using the common English language I spent hours learning
computer languages and common algorithms. Computer programming is my current
source of self expression, and it allows me to display it in a computer environment
like the internet. The interests that writing initially planted in my head
lead me to who I am today and my readings now are changing the way I think.
To read more into me as a writer check out the rest of the site. The site is designed to simulate a scrapbook as best I can. Most pages have
only one link leading away, usualy found at the bottom of the page. The rest of the pages will have images to click on, have fun!