Why do I love reading?

To be perfectly honest, I haven’t quite figured out what direction this blog post will be going in. I know the topic of conversation obviously; ‘Why do I love reading?’ (I guess you could call it the partner post to my previous post ‘Why do I love writing?’). I think that’s one of my favourite things about blogging though, I typically end up writing something different to what I intended to, or I end up writing something I didn’t expect. It could be complete waffle (it’ll probably be complete waffle). Who knows?

One of the main reasons I would argue that people should read is purely for the enjoyment of it. For me, I primarily read fiction and poetry. Though I do also read blog posts, articles, magazines, etc, I don’t go out of my way to read them for the sole reason of enjoyment like I do with poetry and fiction novels. Fiction novels make me FULLY forget where I am and I am completely immersed in the world created by the author, which is one of the reasons I love it. I read a quote by George. R. R. Martin when I was younger; “A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, said Jojen. The man who never reads lives only one.” I wholeheartedly agree with that quote. I have felt every emotion through a book. I have laughed. I have cringed. I have fully cried and found myself mourning over characters I’d grown attached to after following their story until the end. I have felt anger. I have felt embarrassment. I have felt so satisfied after reading a novel that I don’t feel the need to read another for MONTHS (but that doesn’t mean I don’t love reading, I just need time to move on from a book sometimes). This all sounds incredibly cheesy, truthfully, it probably is. It gives me a break away from my phone and I really enjoy the time I spend on myself, in my bed, a great book, and a cup of tea.

Though, I myself would argue that reading for entertainment purposes itself is reason enough to read and I wish I could just answer my own question ‘Why I love reading?’ as simply and as quickly as that, I’m fully aware that people don’t enjoy reading and only read things when forced to (usually for academic reasons, even then it’s usually ‘skim reading’, if they’ve read at all). I’ll admit, for things I have no interest in, I skim read them and half pay attention to them because it’s not something I’ve chosen to read. Even sometimes in books I skip the boring parts because if it doesn’t stimulate my brain or make me want to read it then… why should I? However, if the first term of my degree (specifically the Creative Writing side) has taught me anything it’s that academic writing can actually be enjoyable (I know *wow* that’s a really bold statement but I swear I’m not actually lying here). What I mean by this is that I enjoy the discussions that reading say academic essays as an example allow. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a massive fan of Plato’s Republic, but I enjoyed the seminar conversations that led from it. I also enjoy how it informs my other writing; I feel like I have a better insight to literary concepts now. I also enjoyed Percy Shelley’s A Defence of Poetry because it gave EVEN MORE points of view and oppositions to Plato’s ideas. It feels like with every new academic piece I am reading, I actually understand why I myself am writing and what I wish to gain from that (which is probably a good thing being as I have an essay due in January on the topic).

Like, why are you reading this right now? Are you bored? Are you trying to support my writing? Do you have a genuine interest in what I have to say? I mean, I’m just some 18 year old that feels the need to let everyone know what she thinks for no reason other than to express herself and practise writing, what’s so special about that? Or did you accidentally click on it? All of which would be valid answers but it really illustrates that people read more than they realise. Yes, we live in a world that is constantly absorbing information online and we see heaps of texts on twitter, facebook, snapchat etc; but do you realise how much that truly is? How many snapchat articles do you read a day? How many news articles do you click on on facebook? How many more of my stupid rhetorical questions are you gonna read before you realise I have no real point to this blog post?

I am very passionate about all forms of reading (unless that wasn’t clear already). All forms of reading, whether classic literature, a casual article, a review, or a blogpost that maybe 10 people will read… can affect people in a multitude of ways. They can alter long-held beliefs. They can evoke emotion. They can provide information. They can inspire. They can do so much if given the chance to be read, which is why I love to read.

 

Why do I love writing?

Why do I love writing?

It’s 3am as I write this (because if you know me you’ll know that my sleep schedule is a pile of rubbish). It’s 3am and I’ve decided that instead of sleeping, I wanna spend my time writing this blog post that only like 5 people will probably read.

I love it.

It’s a massive question to ask myself really, why I love to write and what it actually does. I always think that talking about myself writing is pretentious and honestly it probably is but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop talking about it, because it’s one of the things I enjoy most.

We sort of had to answer this question in one of our creative writing seminars and had to really reflect on that question with George Orwell’s Essay (aptly titled) ‘Why I Write?’ (1946). He splits it into a few different motives behind writing and I guess the ones that I relate to the most are ‘Sheer Egoism’ and ‘Aesthetic Enthusiasm’. The former meaning that I like how the idea of ‘being a writer’ makes me sound, which is admittedly kinda selfish because it’s for other people’s perception of myself, but I think the more I write and the older I’ve gotten, the less important that part has become. Admittedly though, I strive to eventually have the title of a ‘poet’ or an ‘author’, I feel like I’ll probably never earn it though? I’m not sure, I have a few conflicting opinions about myself regarding that. I mean, I’m writing an entire blog post about myself, so wouldn’t it be inherently incorrect to say that I don’t have at least some elements of Orwell’s idea of ‘Sheer Egoism’? With regards to the latter ‘Aesthetic Enthusiasm,’ it basically means that I like the details of writing. When I’ve written what I believe to be a good poem, it’s usually one in which I’ve presented my ideas in a way that brings pleasure to me. I know I’ve written a good poem when it was difficult to write too. Though poetry is a subjective thing, my favourites are the ones that present something in a way that leaves me impressed.

So those are two reasons behind why I write, but I think the answer to why I love writing is because of the solace it gives me emotionally.

The very reason I started writing poetry was to sort of vent out an experience I had with someone who spread a pretty nasty rumour about me, and to this day I STILL think those are the best poems I’ve ever written? Maybe I’m biased because they were my first (they’re in my first ever blog post if you wanted to check them out). I entered those poems into a competition, I was one of the winners, and this is when I fell in love with writing. Maybe I should thank that guy for the rumour because without it, maybe I wouldn’t be the same writer I am now – I’m not gonna say that I wouldn’t have started writing because of him though, because I know I would’ve. Mainly because it allows me to document my emotions and thoughts. I’ve written poems about my mental health when it wasn’t in the best place and now that I’ve reached what I’d call the happiest I’ve been in years, I can reread them and see how far I’ve come. Maybe they don’t make sense to anybody else except me but that’s okay because I write for myself. I’ve written about my family, my friends, my highs, my lows, my fears, my memories, and about things that I’ve noticed and just wanted to write about (like those weird shape/patterns birds make in the sky when they flock together? I don’t know, I just think they’re pretty). I reread my own writing all of the time (“sheer egoism”), to just see how different everything is (and then I’ll probably draft the poems I think are shit now).

If there’s something I’ve learnt about writing is that you’d never write the same thing if you’d written it at a different time. I worded that awfully, but I mean, if I’d decided to write this blog post in a few days’ time, it would probably be very different because between now and then, some part of me or some memory or some ideas, would’ve changed. So, I like documenting the now, and figuring out what it is that I want to say in this exact moment. 

Right now, I would just like to say that I feel happy.

That is why I’ve written this today.

Sidenote: That’s probably the simplest way I’ve ever ended a blog post.

😊

Life Update

I started University of Manchester on the 13^th of September.

I left University of Manchester on the 28^th of September.

I moved to Royal Holloway University of London on the 9^th of October.

I have been at Royal Holloway for almost 2 weeks now and these have undoubtedly been two of the best weeks of my life. Call me cheesy (because I am and I’m ready to admit it) but it’s true. Within an hour of arriving I had already felt more at home here than I ever did in Manchester. My flatmates Molly, Kirsten, and Eugenia all helped me move in and we stayed up until like 1am talking (alongside Sandhiya, Poppy and Sophie). Molly has been a godsend and has made adapting to such a different environment so much easier for me (thanks for showing me how to use literally everything at Kingswood Halls and introducing me to everyone), and I didn’t actually properly know Sophie for the first few days here which I find mental because I cannot imagine this uni experience without her. I know it seems like such a short amount of time to connect to people, but I already know that Molly, Soph and I will be friends for a really long time (this is me being cheesy again). I guess it’s difficult to describe the connections you make with people, but I don’t think I could be with either of them and not laugh so hard that I can’t breathe. I mean if you have me on any social media you can probably tell I’m low-key obsessed with them (I apologise for the spam) but it’s chill because I’m pretty sure they’re the same. I think it’s actually INSANE how people you’ve known for two weeks can be better friends to you than people you’ve known for years.

That’s not to say though that I don’t miss anyone from Wales because I obviously do. I talk about my mam all the time and I miss my family’s closeness and openness quite a lot. I also think that my friends here know Jo and Gwen through the amount that I refer to them and talk about them. It’s weird because I really thought I’d rely on them a lot more after moving here like I did in Manchester but because I’m happier I don’t ring them up and cry anymore (that may be a bit personal but now I can laugh at myself). I’m really busy most days, which is weird because if somebody asked me what I was doing, I couldn’t really explain? I’m enjoying myself though, enough to be more independent… that’s what I’m trying to say.

I was actually pretty hesitant about if I’d like my accommodation at Royal Holloway at first because I knew I’d have to take a University bus from my accommodation to get to my lectures and seminars which I didn’t think I’d like but I actually really do, I keep bumping into people that I kinda know and we end up making conversation the entire journey. There’s a really nice community feeling here which I love, so it kinda makes up for being the furthest away accommodation from the university.

Contrastingly though, straight after my first Creative Writing seminar, I knew with 100% certainty that making the move from English Literature and Drama to Creative Writing and Drama was one of the best ‘life-decisions’ I’ve ever made. I was really excited to start my work (which is probably one of the most ‘Ceri-Anne is a massive swot’ things I’ve ever said but still), admittedly I left it until last minute like most uni students but I enjoyed writing it and I’m excited to get it back. I have the same feelings towards studying drama here too, I can’t really compare to the Manchester course because I didn’t get to properly experience it but I love it. I love the introductory practical work we’ve been doing and even though I’m not *totally* fussed on studying Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, I like the kind of text and theatre work we’re doing too.

I’ve had a LOT of people (family, friends, strangers etc) call me “Brave” for making the move from Manchester to Royal Holloway, which I actually really appreciate. I’m not gonna lie when I say it’s been A LOT of stress to actually manage to do and I think people are sick of me talking about it but it’s not every day you decide to completely change the course of your life so maybe my repetitive nature here is a bit more understandable (I’m trying to justify it, sue me). Moral of the story, if you don’t like something… change it. To paraphrase what Molly’s mam said; a lot of people try to ‘stick out’ places when they aren’t happy there. I’m SO glad I wasn’t one of those people.

This is the best decision I have ever made (plus, Kingswood make tasty Veggie fajitas so how can I complain?).

Moving Forward

Wow.

So, it’s been a while since I actually wrote a blog post. A lot has happened in the time since I last posted something.

With regards to the important stuff, I think the most important thing is that I’ve decided to pursue creative writing. With this blog and my Instagram poetry account (@unpretty.poems, shameless plug) in mind, I feel that this is something so painfully obvious to me and I’m annoyed at myself for not realising that this is my calling sooner. It’s like when you’re searching for something in the fridge and for the life of you it isn’t there but as soon as you take a step back – it’s been on the shelf right in front of you the entire time. To me, this is kinda like that.

As I’m writing this I’m currently studying English Literature and Drama at the University of Manchester. Also, as I’m writing this, I know this isn’t where I want to be. The main reason being that Manchester doesn’t offer Drama and Creative Writing, knowing that this is the course I wish to follow. I also haven’t really connected with the city, and I feel pretty isolated here leaving me with a depressed mix of emotions, I guess that just plays a part in my thought process for leaving.

Therefore, I’ve decided to do what a few of my friends have called “risky” and “ballsy” (which aren’t exactly two adjectives you’d think of first when you think of ‘Ceri-Anne Gatehouse’, but I suppose they do actually apply here).  I am switching universities.

It’s weird because I’ve ALWAYS been someone decisive in the sense that when I’ve decided something I typically see it through and I’ve never really had any problems with thinking about my future because I’ve always had such a concise and clear plan in mind.  (In a really non-braggy way) Anything I’ve worked hard for and wanted, I’ve managed to achieve somehow, so through doing this I was pretty sure that this was another one of those things that I’d work hard for and get. It was. ‘Was’; past tense. I genuinely thought a few weeks ago that Manchester and Drama and English Literature was this plan, but I see now that it’s not. When I first arrived, I had a great weekend and met some great people who I’ll be extremely sad to miss (especially my girl, Olya). However, I got tonsillitis last week which not only meant that I missed out on freshers but also that I had SO MUCH time to think about who I am, what I want, and what I’m doing. I started to think about all of the things that make me happy; The Beacons Project, fiction, POETRY, Hay Festival, (ignoring the fact I haven’t posted in forever) blogging, and during this slumber I even came up with a book idea that I’m going to follow and see where it takes me. I am surrounded by creative writing in my day to day life and it brings me so much fulfilment that I am fully shocked that I didn’t realise this sooner. I want to work on my writing and I want to push myself creatively further than I have before so that one day I am the interviewee at Hay Festival rather than the interviewer.

After (numerous) sad and crying phone calls to my mam this idea of ‘why don’t I just pursue it?’ came to mind. I’d only ever really mentioned creative writing at degree level once to one of my best friends; Joanna, but I felt I’d already made my bed with English Literature and Drama; which I obviously enjoy otherwise I wouldn’t have decided on it in the first place. Yet, here I am… writing a blogpost… about leaving. I did actually go to an English Lit lecture on Monday just to see if I’d have a change of heart, but I hadn’t. As I sat studying Francis Bacon’s Essay ‘Of Friendship’ (1625); I knew I didn’t want to just study the work of other people but fully work on my own.

Naturally, this has caused a bit of a rush and a stressful week because I’ve been in Manchester for two weeks, but my insurance choice Royal Holloway, University of London is 1) still accepting applicants through clearing and 2) offering me a space on their course ‘Drama and Creative Writing’. So, tonsillitis and all the support from my family and close friends in mind… that is where I’m going to go. Massive shout-out to the following people for being nothing but honest and supportive during this time especially; my mam (sorry for not letting you sleep along with me), my nan, Goggy, Joanna & Gwen (all of those phone calls), Camila and Ieu (words of complete wisdom and logic), and anybody else that I did or almost cried to about the situation and my future.

I’m still in the process of applying for Royal Holloway and I obviously hope it all works out properly and I get there and accepted in time (it’s not a quick process haha), but I have confidence I’ll be okay no matter what. I guess I’ll know in the next week what the plan is! Also, I can kinda laugh at myself now because trust me to be the person who changes uni after two weeks (#makemanchhappen didn't quite work out).

As much as I complain about it, I suppose I should probably thank my awful immune system for this great epiphany as maybe I wouldn’t have come to this conclusion so *easily* without it. Everything happens for a reason and I’m excited to see what the future holds for me (even if it all falls through and I end up taking a gap year).