Edu-ma-cation

Funny...I suddenly feel as if I have nothing to vent about. Marriage: did that. The desi-classification-system thing: did that. How lame this is: did that. Now what? I would complain about my parents but that would just be for the sake of complaining. My brother? Nah, he's cool. Indian society? Well, I kinda did that with the marriage topic. How about learning?Hmm, don't think I've talked about that though its suddenly become a passion. Now honestly, this will not be a vent session so if you were here for that, you are welcome to stop reading now.I don't think I ever used to hate school really. Sure, I had my share of bullies but I learned early that if you remained inconspicous to the point of being invisible, they usually left you alone. I think the only thing I ever wanted to learn in school was how to read. I remember when I was like 3 or 4, I used to sit with a book and try to read by just knowing the alphabets. Lemme give you an example: the word CAT. Now, I only knew my ABCs so that word would be CEE AY TEE and put together it would be CEEAAYTEE. Now I was confounded as to why that creature was called a Ceeaytee when it was obviously a cat! I supposed if I was a child prodigy I would have figured it out on my own, but I didn't. And then when I got to school and finally learned phonics...it was like DUH. Reading was a breeze. Now spelling on the other hand...well, I digress.I loved to read. I loved stories of all kinds. My parents really helped to encourage that. I had like a whole closetful of Dr. Suess' books. He's still one of my favorites. I think when I was in second grade, Dad started checking out books for me from the public library. The first book he brought home was a children's book of stories from India. I fell in love. Soon, I wanted to read the whole series: Stories from China, Stories from Ireland...etc. I did, and then some. By that time I was hooked. This love followed me into high school.Now, as in Chinua Achebe's book, Things Fall Apart, in high school things fell part. I suppose I should blame it all on being an self-conscious adolescent but suddenly reading and learning didn't mean Jacques Schitt if you didn't have a boyfriend or a bod that would get you a boyfriend or even a personality that would get you into the 'cool' clique so you can meet a 'cool' boyfriend. Oh blah, I sound bitter. I'm sure there are plenty of people who actually had a fantabulous time in high school and that's all well and dandy. However, I had a crappy time. It really sucks not knowing who you are. You want to be the best and think you deserve the best, but when things keep happening that tell you that you are not...well, what can you do? I look back and think that my priorities were all wrong. It's hard to be a banana when you're an orange. Both are yum. BUT you can only be one of them, you know? My darn luck, bananas were really popular in high school.Of course, self-confidence plunged to an all-time low. I started listening to everyone but myself and THAT, my sweet gullible friend, was my downfall. Yes, I think of it as a downfall though without that episode I would not be where I am today. I wanted to get away from it all. I was taught that suicide was a sin and the last thing I needed was the wrath of a Supreme Being on top of all that. So I just left. Packed my bags and took off. Best damn thing I did, I tell ya.When you suddenly lose everything that your existence revolved around, you realize that you are left with only yourself. And TA-DA, I realized who I was. No, it didn't happen overnight but it did happen. All the junk that you were bogged down with are but a mere memory. THAT's when I realized that knowledge was what I desired. Some people get the same self-awareness by following their own dreams like painting or singing or dancing, etc. Whatever floats your boat. All that potential knowledge stored in library books and newspapers and textbooks....It overwhelmed me. Just call me Dr. Faustus (without Mephistopheles though). I learned to love to read again. However, this time, and perhaps this is a sign that I'm getting old, I realized its importance.I really don't know why I feed on knowledge. Maybe to hush up the incessant 'whys'in my head or perhaps to find out if anything in those books would lead me to the truth in myself, my purpose, the TRUTH....I believe no one book can tell you that. Books only direct your mind. You have to read a whole bunch of books just to get a summary of the whole story. And even if you read all the books in this world, it will just lead you to an abridged version. Now for the rest of your SELF....? Well, you would have to look beyond this world, I guess. And by world, I mean physical realm of reality.Yeah, I do tend to babble and as usual none of this makes sense. Forget I said anything. This is what happens when I start writing as I'm thinking. Stream of consciousness and junk...Well, sort of :)