Growing Up
There's a book that changed the way I think quite significantly. And it'll probably surprise you.

"War and Peace", by Leo Tolstoy.

Yep, that one. The 1500 page monster. The same size as two whopping Harry Potter books put together. Now, how could such a book change my life?

It was after I read it. I was fifteen at the time and was a bit of an outcast. Partly, this was because I was the "smart" one in class, the one with great grades. Partly, it was because I'd not really figured out the social side of things, how to talk to people properly. Partly it was because I was still figuring out whether I liked boys, girls or both. But mostly it was because I was highly intelligent, knew it, made sure other people knew it - an arrogant smug little shite with a superiority complex the size of Belgium. I boasted, I bragged, I made myself out to be much more than I am. I suspect if I encountered my past self I would take great pleasure in administering a kick to the teeth.

So I read War and Peace. I didn't read it because I thought it would be interesting, or because the story/idea fascinated me in any way... I read it because it was the largest, most intellectual book I could find, I wanted to be able to say that I'd read War and Peace all the way through. It took me three weeks, and I was bored as hell by the end.

What a pretentious twat, you might think? You'd be right. I was.

And after I read it, that was the first time I realised it. And thought...

"What the fuck was I doing? I've just wasted three weeks of my life reading a book that I got nothing from and I did it purely to impress people. Who probably wouldn't care anyway. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?"

That moment was one of my growing up moments. And it hurt, like looking in the mirror and seeing exactly who you are. And not liking it one bit. Self-hatred is not a pretty thing, and it's a lot worse when it's completely justified.

Trying to change something that had been second nature to me for a long time... took a long time. Takes continual work, and it's still not finished. But that was the turning point, the day when I realised that there are a big load of things in life more important than being clever, or making yourself out to be brilliant.

Today I read things because they look fun. I read fanfiction. I read comic books. I read books from authors I came across on Random Page on Wikipedia that looked cool. I read webcomics. I try not to give a crap what other people think of me.

It's an ongoing process, but I'm so glad I learned when I was still a teenager. Otherwise... I don't think I'd like the person I'd be today. Not one bit.
(calamarain just invented dehydrated water, Thu 15 May 2008, 17:28, 1 reply)

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I, too, read War and Peace recently. I have to say I enjoyed the first half, when there was a plot. But then Tolstoy decided he just couldn't be arsed and decided to bang on about some random shit instead. That was crap.
( Queen of Cheesecake, Fri 16 May 2008, 14:07, closed)