Guilty pleasure

Oh no. What have I done.

I looked down. At the pen and paper in my hands.

Yet another list of book titles drawled out in my lazy script. Dozens of titles and authors lined up in pieces of paper. No, nothing harmless about that.

Where are the other lists? Lost in my black hole of a bag, lost in the folds of my notebook, lost in the depths of my over-thinking mind.

It's a mannerism, a coping mechanism, above all, a guilty pleasure.

The OCD in me is itching to tick off one book after the other because... that's what lists are for! I cross out one, two if I'm lucky, but never did I follow through.

But my carefree spirit says otherwise and tells me to just give in to my bibliophilic instincts. Let it take over me and, without so much as a second glance, I will know which trove is destined for me.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I feel like a hopeless case. All I have are endless titles and names rather than pulpy paperbacks. I'm swimming around in an ocean of lists.

Sometimes I think I'm more frustrated with the fact that I can't have all the books I want soon enough.

In the words of Matthew J. Bruccoli, scholar and F. Scott Fitzgerald biographer : "You don't buy books as an investment. You buy them because it gives you pleasure to read them, to touch them... to see them on shelves."

Is there anyone out there who feels the same way?

Before Ever After

Before Ever After by Samantha Sotto

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Eggs.

Whether its well done, sunny side up, creamy scrambled eggs, by the time I'm finished with this book, I was having egg withdrawals.

You guessed it. Before Ever After revolves around eggs which I think, for sometime, was pretty out of the box. That and the egg hunt tour around Europe.

But then, it's what gave the novel a unique charm. I've always been in love with Europe. The cobbled streets lit by the warm glow of lamps. The brick houses and the castles. The history and culture that resonates even now.

For someone who can only dream about going to Europe, I felt nostalgic. Samantha Sotto takes you through Europe's streets with lush and vivid prose, with unexpected twists and turns.

Though it dragged at first and there were many questions left unanswered, what really set Before Ever After above other novels is Sotto's unrivaled take on immortality.

She defied the laws of fiction writing by beginning the past at the end and weaving it with the unfolding present(whew!).

After I read this book, I had a different perspective on eggs, basilisks, and endings.

PS. I'm extremely proud for this beautiful Pinay and her ode to the Philippines!

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Separation anxiety

When I look at my book shelf, all I see is: SEPARATION ANXIETY. The missing titles among the row of books is that obvious I could actually see those two words.

It does feel good to share shove my books into my friends hands. For them to read it and like it is another thing to boost my bibliophilic ego.

But I do miss my books after a while and it worries me that they might never come back. I fervently hope not. That would break me.

My books are important to me. They each carry a piece of me - a memory, a place, a time, a person. They've been with me through a certain point in my life and I clung to them for my dear life.

Maybe one day I could let them go, set them free. Pieces of me in the hundred paperbacks, millions of words, out there in the universe.

Now they're selfishly mine. Living pieces of me scattered within a 300 mile-radius, maybe?

Top New Year's resolution: Read more. Write more (other than work).

You think when you get older you'd read more classics, more philosophical works, more non-fiction. Genres  beyond your years because at the age of 21, you want to prove how intelligent and wide reader you are. (There's just so many 20 books you need to read in your 20s list, 30 books in your 30s, I plan to read some of it) But instead, you get stuck in Young Adult and you're not even ashamed. Way better than getting caught reading 50 Shades of Grey in public, or even in your e-reader cause nosy people can still read the large font, you guys.

Apologies

"What fell to her lot was not the burden but the unbearable lightness of being." - Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Someday, I will get this permanently inked on my skin. Guess not today. 

This sums up 2012 for me and even when the new year came around, I still feel adrift. 

I want to be more, want to be here, want to leave footprints, want to know where I'm going, or atleast, keep going wherever I'm headed. 

I'm taking it one day at a time, one book at a time. 

Somewhere in the pages, I'll find a word, a phrase that would hold me down.

Apologies for not being here.