I suppose that the most honest response is that I don't, or, at least, not as much as I'd like to. My background for both reading and writing is generally limited to academic pursuits. Of course, I've read a few books here and there for recreation, but they are obscenely few and far between. And, of course, I have the obligatory "personal-blog-that-gets-updated-every-6-12 months". (Ahem.) But, mostly, reading and writing still remain more aspiration than reality.
However, that doesn't quite answer the question, does it? I will say that my limited experience certainly doesn't limit my affection. In fact, one could argue that my being "late to the game" has given me a unique perspective -- a wealth of life experience to relate and compare.
When I have read, even just for assignments, I've found that it appeals to my very passionate interest in human behavior (hence why I've been studying the social sciences up until now). More than anything else, what I am most passionate about is developing a better understanding of the complexity of the human experience and all the reasons and motivations for why people behave and feel the way that they do at any given moment. How do people react to trauma? To falling in love? To loss? To failure? To heartbreak? How do these things bind us together and how do they make us truly unique from one another?
As for writing, I think of it much the same -- only -- it's entirely selfish. Writing, for me, is adding my own voice to the echoes of human existence. It's my story; my end of the conversation with all the interconnected bits of my life. What I write is my diary, my reference guide, and my road map. I am pursuing it now because my life feels like it is in great transition, and I need writing for documentation, for stability, for motivation, and for understanding. When I began to explore writing, it got to a point where it eventually felt like the bell that cannot be un-rung. Something changed -- and I needed it. I needed to.
