As stated before, I don't recall exactly when I learned to read; there is just the period of my life before literacy and the period after. I must've learned it while I was still going to school, but the details escape me. I remember reading stuff while there, but not what was read save for one thing: the Boxcar Children. It was read during class at some point and, while I wasn't necessarily enthralled during that time, I remembered enough to make attack a mountain of Boxcar Children books that were given to us by my Scholastic employed Godmother. I don't know how many of those things I read, but it was quite a lot. How a series goes from being a one-off tale about orphans living in a box car and finding family to various tales of adventure and mystery is beyond me. I suspect these were all pretty shitty books. Even then, I was never able to finish the second one despite numerous attempts to do so. Not sure why...

Another series that I read a fair amount of in my younger years was Goosebumps. I don't think there are very many children of the 90s who didn't read Goosebumps. Again, I don't recall much about these save for two things: they scared the shit out of me and Say Cheese and Die was awesome. Actually, thinking back on the story, it's a little like Death Note, only the Note in this case is a camera and the bearer doesn't actually intend for people to die. I think maybe I should read that book again...

There were other books and series in there: the Hardy Boys, Lord of the Rings, the Belgariad and its sequel, and various classics in the form of Moby Books amoungst others. But there's one fictional universe in particular that has shaped my life in more ways than I could possibly imagine, from the sheer amount of time spent reading to actual changes in my behaviour. I am, of course, talking about Star Wars.

To date, I have read no less than 78 Star Wars books (yes, I've counted), ranging from the first, small novels by Alan Dean Foster up to the New Jedi Order series and its whopping nineteen novels. I don't know exactly what my first Star Wars book was, but I'm inclined to say it was probably the Junior Jedi Knights book The Golden Globe which I read when I was twelve. I didn't spend too long in that series initially and quickly "graduated" to the Young Jedi Knights. Finally eschewing the children's series, I went on to read the Jedi Academy trilogy, the X-wing series, and of course, the phenomenal Thrawn trilogy. To this day, the Thrawn trilogy is probably my favorite series of books and its author, Timothy Zahn, also amoungst my favorites.

At my peak, I was reading at the pace of a Star Wars novel a day, sometimes blowing through three or four a week. Star Wars literature - and the universe that it created in my mind - engrossed me for probably a good six or seven years of my life. I cannot think any other single thing in my life that so consumed me. All good things must come to an end, however, and once I completed the New Jedi Order series, my Star Wars mania was spent. The last time I picked up a Star Wars book was in late '08 as I waited overnight for a bus at the Orlando airport. But, I do not regret for a minute the time that I spent behind the pages of these books. I actually attribute a lot of my English skills - from spoken to written - to these books. I know for a fact that it was in a Star Wars novel that I first encountered the word "ricochet", the phrases "oft used" and "delusions of granduer", and how I began the use of the term "blast" in swearing (something one of my former bosses thought was "cute").

After my Star Wars days, my reading of fiction dropped to almost nothing for the longest time; partially because I began working, partially due to the internet and site like Slashdot and Digg which provided articles relevant to my interests. I wouldn't become heavily invested in reading again until mid 2009 as a new genre caught my attention...

Ever since I was a wee lad, reading has been more or less a main stay past time of mine. Even before I myself could read (an act I don't recall learning), books have been a part of my life in some form or fashion. For the next couple of posts - as it's the best idea I've had for a blog post in these weeks of drought - I will do some meandering through time, summoning memories of the books and book related experiences in my life. Also, I'm about to turn another year older, so I'm trying to forget about that by living in the past.

In a manner befitting sitcom television of the 80s and 90s, the bedtime story was an established ritual in my family. Mom and sometimes Dad would read a book or two (or a portion of a book, if it was longer) to us after teeth brushing but before we'd be confined to the late night prison of our room. This went on for quite a while, carried over into the lives of my younger siblings, and is still sometimes revived today. I probably appreciate it in a different light now than I did when I was younger, much the same as family meal time.

A lot of what was read were the usuals that all kids grow up with: Green Eggs and Ham; Goodnight Moon; Go, Dog, Go; Wynken, Blynken, and Nod; etc and so forth. I do particularly recall a set of Sesame Street books that we owned, which also reminds me of the Ernie plushie I had at about that time (incidentally, my favorite character). But, I digress. There were also some Little Golden Books in our library. I can still recall the taste of the foiled spines...

Of all the books that were ever read to me, however, there's one that stands out in my mind as being far and above the others (it also makes a great, heart warming tale to tell): the Hobbit. I don't recall exactly when this happened (general consensus places me at about 8 or 9), but my dad decided one day that we - then, Jeff, Chris, and myself - needed to experience this grande tale of adventure and theiving. I seem to recall not being enthralled by the idea of being read to initially (I was able to read at the time), but within a couple of chapters (one per night) we were all hooked. This was, of course, long before Lord of the Rings was turned into a theatrical masterpiece, but I'll be damned if my dad didn't nail Gollum's voice before it was even a thought in Andy Serkis' head. This experience left such an impression on my life that I fully plan on doing the same with my own children (regardless of whether they are boys or girls).

Counter to that, my mom read us a few of the Little House on the Prarie books (a personal favorite series of hers). I'll be honest: there are some okay parts, but as a wild young boy, the on-goings of a girl and her family in no-man's land didn't entirely capture my attention (sorry, mom). Luckily for her, she was able to reread these to my sisters recently, who probably enjoyed them more than I did. I was able to listen in on her reading this a few times, and approaching the text with my filthy, adult mind makes for some good times (though, not so much for the person reading aloud. Again, sorry mom).

There are more tales to tell, I'm sure (books we read in school and such), but that's the beginnings of my literacy life in a nutshell. Next time, I'll explore the world I opened of my own volition and where it's lead me today.

It's been a while since I posted a journal entry (or anything, really), and the interestingness of this final journal is drying up. So, I'm going to jump to the most important entry in there; the entry that, looking back on it, in many ways kick started my life on the path that has led me here. Without further ado:

Today was the oddest/horrible days of my life. It started off fairly normal. We got ready for Mass and headed off as usual. We drove towards Tulsa in conditioned comfort. We were nearly in town when the van started acting up. Mom ordered everyone out of the van. It wasn't until I got out until I noticed the smoke billowing off the hood. As we backed away from the van we noticed flames under it. A couple of people from the parish stopped. Some other guy stopped and poked around in the van. Mom and Mary Cook were screaming at him to beat it. By the time the fire truck was passing on the other side the van was engulfed in flames. They did get it out and there stood the blackened courpse of what used to be our mode of transportation. So Jeff, Steve, Maggie and I hitched a ride to the curch with the Howzers. When the others got there, Mr. Howzer drove us home. Next to that nothing else has really happened. Okay, I scraped my knee. But it's late (and raining) and I'm off to bed.

Name spelling errata aside, the van burning up was actually a fairly large turning point in family history. I don't think any one thing that followed is necessarily directly attributable, but it was the "big event" upon which other smaller, but more important events happened very close to.

Shortly after the car barbecue, we got the enormous, 15 passenger van that is now the Hackmobile and also the vehicle with which I learned to drive. With that in our possession, it seemed like we began to do more things within the parish, such as my creating and running of their website (my first real experience doing web work outside of for my own fancy or the YPN) in addition to myself and the two younger brothers behind me becoming altar boys.

In all this, I began to get my programming skills known and also begin the long process of shedding my introversion and bringing a level of normality to my social skills (a thing that is still ongoing, it seems). Again, I don't know if the event of the Crispy Van (as it was later called) is directly involved in any of this, but it was certainly something memorable. But, the fire was not without casualties.

My brother's JamP3 didn't survive.

Returning back to my own youthful scribblings, there's nothing terribly exciting in today's batch.

Entry 2 - June 9, 2002

Well I have now been sixteen for twenty-four hours. Nothing special. We went to Mass as usual. Afterward we went to Gardener's and looked around a while. I found an HTML book for Chris. Mom found an old Catholic text book for a buck. We came home to some stew Dad cooked up. It was really good. After that I played some Dr. Mario. Then I worked up an ASP program to hold my financial stuff. Then we went to bed.

Actually, there is something to be mentioned here. Gardners, erroneously spelled above, is a local used bookstore. Back in my youth, it was a great place to ogle over almost irrelevant programming books (most of which are actually still at the store today). Nowadays, I ignore the computer section entirely and mostly peruse the manga section ($5 tankoban is a pretty good deal).

Entry 3 - June 10, 2002

An amazing this happened today. I completed every subject in school! I also finished my Mockingbird synopsis. Amazery! And on top of all that, I made it through level twenty of Dr. Mario. I also chatted with "kpyro" on AOL. So over today was really good.

kypyro was one of the first and only people I ever talked with off the YPN boards and at that it was very brief. I don't recall why, but I came to distrust him at one point. The only actual person I chat with from those days anymore hadn't even joined YPN at that point.

You all know who I'm talking about...