Bookworms Unite!

My Private Stock: Small But Tasty (Oh, and I have granola bars on the bottom shelf, just in case)

My name is Caelie Orlosky, and I am a bookworm. I was one of the kids who wouldn’t sleep at night because I couldn’t stop turning the pages of the latest novel I had picked up. I’ve perfected the art of walking and reading at the same time (sometimes I even throw in some gum-chewing). Flashlights and paper cuts are a normal part of my life.

Unfortunately, my species has ended up on the endangered species list, right under the┬áZulia Toad Headed Sideneck and the Palanda Rocket Frog. Obviously, the list is not in alphabetical order…

Movies and television shows have threatened the source of our brain food, the now rare good book, leaving us with few alternative meal options. Magazines and newspapers provide a small amount of sustenance, and blog posts are a nice snack, but novels are what we crave. And the underwhelming number of readers has frightened off many potential producers.

I do believe there is hope, however. Walking to the bank the other day, I ran into a fellow bookworm, still in the juvenile stages. Actually, I didn’t run into him because, like all good bibliophiles, he had developed his walking-and-reading skills. But I did take notice of him, a ten-year-old boy catering to his appetite with a nice hard-cover novel. I felt a little like a pedophile, since I turned and gazed after him for a moment with a goofy grin on my face. But I SWEAR it was only because I was so surprised and happy to see a younger child reading a real book. If we could create a younger generation of bookworms, then I wouldn’t be compelled to act like such a creep, though my intentions are completely innocent. Seeing people, aside from myself, reading while out for a walk wouldn’t be such an anomaly.

So this is a call to arms to all the other bookworms out there who don’t want to see our numbers dwindle further in future generations. Somehow, we have to keep our species alive and thriving. I’m not sure how, but we need to find a way to breed the next generation of bibliophiles. Perhaps the next time a child — a niece, nephew, son, daughter, etc.– asks to go see a book-based movie, promise to take them only if they read the book first. Offering a reward is a rather dirty trick, but just maybe it could ignite the spark that will lead to a lifetime of reading, and a reemergence of the bookworm species.



I am already two weeks into my freshman year at Baldwin-Wallace College. I’ve read several textbook chapters, a famous and controversial Norwegian play, a short story full of subtle allegory, and several articles about education. I’ve watched a German movie and analyzed another movie on the basis of interpersonal communication. I’ve sat through seven classes taught entirely in German. And I’ve already had to stay up until two in the morning, attempting to finish a mountain of homework. Oddly enough, I’m not anxious in the least anymore.

Maybe it’s just the fact that I now have a routine, as well as intriguing classes and an intense desire to learn. Instead of anxiety, I’m filled with curiosity and questions. The most pressing question is this: How am I going to change?

Everyone’s told me, “You’ll be a different person.” Some said after a year, others after four years. A few even ventured to say I’d change after a week. I’m starting to believe the few. I’m not sure if it’s my classes that are opening my mind to all sorts of new ideas, or that my perspective is changing as I meet new people and encounter new ideas. But I’ve noticed a difference.

Sitting and copying definitions of concepts for Intro to Interpersonal Communication, I found myself thinking about them intently, and not just about how they applied to the movie we’re analyzing. I was applying them to my actions, how I interact with people. It’s something I’ve thought about before, in passing, but laying on the couch in the lounge, I was deeply invested in searching my mind and studying my behavior in retrospect. It was quite an odd and delightful feeling.

It’s a feeling that I’ve had quite intensely ever since I moved in three weeks ago. I feel like a new person. No, not new yet… That’s not quite right. I feel like a developing person. My opinions are forming and changing. My habits and comfort zones are going through a metamorphosis. I expected to see a difference, eventually. But I can feel it intently already. And I’m ecstatic. I’m waiting impatiently to see exactly what kind of person I’m going to turn out to be, what I’m going to find out about myself and learn about the world around me. No wonder everyone says college is an exciting time.