Acquired tastes

When you're studying Literature it is inevitable, if not mandatory than you should be interested in books and the history around them. I myself have always had this vivid fascination with the world of books and even as a child I was freely mixing the written word with the spoken word on television. I guess I've always been sort of caught between two worlds: the world of books and the world of movies.

As a child, I dreamed of making movies and as I got older, I never grew tired of this little director-fantasy. Even now, when writing seems to be inked into my very cells, I cannot stop watching movies and allow them to ravish me completely. I've always said that, if I was born in a country with a decent filmschool or some semblance of a noteworthy cinematic industry, I would've become a movie director, or at least a professional screenwiter. Alas, such a future does not seem to be in the Belgian deck of cards. Nevertheless, my interests remain solidified with books as well as movies.

I guess that, since my dream of becoming a famous director has been permanently placed on the Shoulda-Woulda-Coulda Shelf, it seems only natural that I should pursue my other source of visible delight: books. And as it is commonly known, three times is the charm: I finally chose correctly when I decided to study Literature. So far, this year has been one of my absolute best and now, more than ever, I want to make this academic career work and see it all the way through.

Over these past few months, I've added several literary classics to my humble library, such as Richard Russo's Empire Falls (although I wasn't exactly blown away by it and found it quite boring at times), José Saramago's Blindness and Seeing, Lewis Carrol's Alice, the complete works of both William Shakespeare and Edgar Allan Poe and more recently Charles Dickens' Great Expectations and Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead have joined my collection.

But I've also found that this newly invigorated lust for literature has been met accordingly by an increase of my DVD collection as well. Moreover, I see myself drifting more and more towards the more culturally significant pieces of cinema than the mainstream Hollywood influx of movies, although, don't get me wrong, I can always enjoy a good Hollywood blockbuster à la Salt, Resident Evil Afterlife or even Percy Jackson & The Lightning Thief (for some reason, I can't resist wanting to the movie over and over, so far, I've already seen it twice, but I wouldn't rule out a third and fourth time just yet!).

It's weird to see how the things that would've normally passed right by my peripheral vision are now pulled directly into focus and the things that would've normally sweeped me off my feet at first glance, have now gracefully resigned to second or even third place. They say that, in order for a child to grow up, they must - metaphorically speaking, of course - kill their father, because only then can they be free and truly their own person. I wonder if the same can be said for one's personal preferences? I used to love eating shrimp, strangely enough, yet now they completely disgust me. I used to love swimming, but now I'm much too self-conscious about the whole act. So it does make me wonder if, to truly grow up, means that you should not only kill off the father figure in your life, but also cut the very ties that bound you as a child?

In its most basic form this hypothesis is proved by the fact that we no longer watch cartoons or the baby shows such as Tik Tak or things like Nijntje. Even Nickelodeon has lost all of its sway over me. I can't even finish watching an episode of Fairly Odd Parents because I can't stand the poor voice-overs anymore. I also can't see myself re-reading the R.L. Stine Goosebumps horror books that I used to devour as a child.

So maybe there is truth in my hypothesis, or maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part. Although I'm willing to bet you can all find examples yourself that proves you're slowly, but surely being pulled away from your childhood world and into your more developed and educated sense of adulthood. Who knew growing up would end up in such a killing spree?