Down Memory Lane

It's like high school all over again. It hurts to know that you are being excluded from the get-togethers your friends are having, even if you aren't besties before (but close enough to have affectionate nicknames). It feels like shyte, actually. Yes, it's year 2010 now, 10+ years post-zit attacks and all. Yes, we are all working people now. Yes, we are on separate paths now. But at least have the courtesy to ask whether the girl can join or not. She realizes that she's not in your clique, but she's a friend, no?

Pardon the bitterness. That time of the month is approaching.



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Rekindling Past Love

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Just a few years back, I read on average about 2 books (novels) every month. I would spend hours at MPH, Kinokuniya, Times or Borders browsing through Sophie Kinsella, Jane Green, Anne Rice, Nora Roberts and many more. I would go wandering between the book shelves, wondering which titles I should get for that month. There were simply too many to choose from, I would sometimes leave the store empty-handed, because I felt it would be unfair to the other books if I only chose two or three. You see, my allowance back then only allowed me to purchase at most three titles per month, with each priced at RM40, max. I could spend more, but I was really bad at keeping the receipts to be used for tax relief (Dad's). I would either lose/misplace the slip of paper by the time I got home from the book store. So basically, I would have to pay for the books using my own pocket money. And I'm a girl who don't really like to spend my own money, unless it's really necessary.
My book collection at home is sorta big, for a then-20 year-old girl. I remember so vividly this one day back in 2008 when my heart almost stopped because my brother sold off my Stephen King (yes, Stephen King!) collection to the newspaperman, among many many other titles. His reason? He thought they were a waste of space (they were on the book shelve in MY room!) and no one would ever really want to read them anymore (I re-read my books every few months, fyi). I knew that he did it because he needed money. Served him right for being so evil, he only got RM14 from the whole lot of Stephen Kings, when I've spent years and a fortune purchasing them! If the newspaperman was wise, he would have sold the books to a used books store and get back that RM14 and more. I didn't even want to think of the possibility of him sending the books to a recycling centre. That's equivalent to literary murder.
Today, I only have The Shining with me. I miss my Skeleton Crew like crazy.

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Since that fateful event, I kinda stopped buying books and stopped re-reading the ones that are left. I admit that they've been collecting dust ever since. Even when I do buy books every now and then during visits to the mall (buying books during mall trips was a 15-year old habit of mine), I simply couldn't find enough enthusiasm to get back into reading. Soon, they would be lost among all other thingamajigs in the house.
Fast forward to 2010, I'm trying to fulfill my mid-year resolution of going back into reading. I realized that I need to start reading again, because my English is getting rusty (being a government-employed person does not help with it), and I can no longer write a good sentence in one try. So now, I'm in the midst of interviewing the vampire (Interview with the Vampire, page 13) and we're still at the New Orleans plantation. I simply cannot recall the story line, and I'm glad. It'll be like reading an interesting new book, which I love!
Here's to an enjoyable experience of rekindling past love.

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I hope someone else who finds him/herself falling OUT of love with reading magical printed words on a page, will decide to pick up a book, and fall IN love all over again.

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Power to the Ladies!

Wife: I need a black dress.
Husband: You have a black dress.
Wife: I need a wide range of black dresses.
Husband: You have three black dresses.
Wife: Three is not a wide range; 20 is a wide range.
Husband: You are not buying 20 black dresses.
Wife: Okay, you win. I'll make do with 10. Actually, seven or eight should be plenty.
Husband: Right. I should think so too.

By the time he realised that he had okayed five new black dresses, she was halfway to Zara.


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