Not according to what I thought I would do, I wrote. To be honest about it, in college (I have been to two college universities, Silliman University and University of Southern Mindanao) writing is not one of the many things I would love to do. Actually writing and politicking are at the farthest sprectrum of my interests. (Politics is another topic that I would write later that also appealed to me quite unexpectedly).

 

Writing perhaps was just an offshoot of my readings, which covers just about everything and anything where there are printed words. From komics to wrappers, or from a highly technical scientific journal to mathematical permutations. The first books that enthralled me (meaning I don’t understand what i there) was Id, Ego,Super Ego book of Sigmond Freud, I was in 4th year highschool then. But like everyone, I also tried Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. The last book I remembered reading in high school was The Power of Positive Thinking by NV Peale. (So I became a positivist). 

 

First year college. One of my room mate, Roy Laoagan, is a book worm, he has this cartoon filled with paperbacks, and I was once again introduced into the world of commercial  literature… of Robert Hudloom (did I spelled it right?) and Harold Robbins. But similar to my Hardy Boys adventure, I never finish one Harold Robbin’s book. Of the numerous Ludlum book, I can only remember one title, The Matarisse Circle. Literary work is perhaps not my cup of tea. I still have to finish Tolstoy’s Ana Karenina,  or the War and Peace. The fartherst of my literary reading journey is Checkov’s Short stories, and Sionel Jose’s Rosales saga.

 

Reading is fun, and it stimulates the mind. I love doing it but here in my home province, reading does not pay. So I was forced to do something else.

 

(next of my reading journey are the works that enfluenced my future. Why I quit school,  and the repercussion of my decision).