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The Beginning of a Self-Proclaimed Bookworm

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I have never been in a hate relationship with books. Rather than hating, I will avoid books that aren’t in my range of liking like a plague. That probably includes a stack of mathematics and physic books from my high-school days.

I was first introduced to reading by my parents (most probably, I don’t have enough recollection about this) at the young age of 4. My first book, which is not entirely a book, is a comic strip of Donald Ducks and Friends. It was a bumpy read, I recall, because I’m not that fluent yet in stitching character over character but I managed. After my successful attempt of reading the comic strip, my father started to buy new reading materials for me. Most of them are still Donald Ducks but there are a few of kid magazines as well.

The next step of my initiation to become a bookworm was by watching foreign TV shows. At those times, foreign series are rarely dubbed so the subtitles were a must-read. Subtitles are changing fast, training me to be a faster reader. But what is faster than the subtitles. Yes, it is the credit title. My father was often challenging me to read the names on the credit titles and I was born to never back down from any challenge.

The next one is because I practically spent my days on my grandparents’ house when I was 8. Our house is too far from my elementary school and my mother is a college lecturer so she needed to work. The fastest solution was to drop me on my grandparent’s house after school. She then would pick me up after she got out of work.

My grandparents were teachers. My grandfather love books so there were more than just several books scattered here and there. He also subscribed for a monthly magazine called Intisari. This magazine can be compared to Reader’s Digest; a well-rounded magazine. The series of Intisari have been served as my friends throughout the days because my grandpa and grandma were as busy with schools. Intisari gave so much knowledge that not any 8-year-old could get from classes.

Stepping up the game, my father started to give me thicker books. Most of them were bedtime stories such as Russians Children Story, Grimm’s, and cute fables filled with poem. At that time, my house was a bit on a smaller side and half of it was already occupied with my parents’ books.

More than spending my time outside the house like typical kids, I prefer to read. My father got a bit antsy about this. Maybe because he thought that I will be a shut-in or antisocial if I were to continue my lifestyle (now I actually thought so too, I’m just a bit antisocial). He usually encouraged me to play outside with my friends or to play on my neighbors’ house, even gave some money to go with.

The rest of my history is still filled with books and more. Books can be very helpful for me to unwind. School can give you enough stress (some teenagers even choose to end their life just to avoid it). So, I think this is a short story about me; a Self-Proclaimed Bookworm. Are you a bookworm too? What kind of a bookworm you are?

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