Monday, March 17, 2014


I am going back to reading.
When I was younger, I used to be an avid reader.
I have to confess,I wasn't reading particularly intelligent things. I would like to tell you I have a penchant for The Economist and Newsweek (indeed, I used to subscribe to them. But...reading them was a wholly different matter.)
My favourite authors were John Grisham, Stephen King, and J.K. Rowling. Hehe. I once attempted to read Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina - but I found it incredibly draggy and I gave up. (Plus, I was reading it on my iPhone, which is really not the best reading tool.)
There is something haunting about Haruki Murakami's writing, it is sweet and beautiful - but I have to be in a certain mood and mindset to read him.

Why read, though?

What I love about books, is the magic in them. Books have an ability to transport you to places far away. What I especially like about reading, though, is that it gives you a glimpse into another person's mind. When you read a person's writing, you're reading his or her thoughts. It doesn't matter if it's fiction or not, how we feel inevitably shapes what we write.

I crave a little depth in my life lately. I want a little more thought in my life. True, the level of depth is also going to be very dependant on what kind of books you're reading. If all you do is read 50 Shades of Grey (I have some friends who don't read at all buying the entire trilogy. I don't consider this reading.) I don't think there's going to be a lot of depth (well, maybe, one of a different kind).

I left my books in Kuala Lumpur when I moved to Singapore. I miss them, a lot more than I thought I would. I'm going to buy a bookshelf, and fill it with books. I'd like to fill my little home here with a little bit more thought, a little bit more depth, and a little more happiness.

Life is a little bit empty when it's all about shopping, manicures, and going out to eat. Sure, it's fun. I love my nails when they're bright pink and as Barbie looking as can be. Shopping and hunting down shoes give me a momentary thrill. Eating's always good. But...after a while, it does seem a little empty and pointless. I don't crave bags anymore. When I was younger, I always looked enviously at girls who had branded bags. Prada. Lulu Guinness (so cute!). Gucci.

Now, I feel absolutely nothing when I see those bags. It's a little strange. I'm at the point where I can actually buy a bag if I want to. But, that feeling has completely disappeared. I mean, really. How much joy can a bag give you?

I have a Prada bag I bought last year. To be honest with you, I bought it just to shut people up. Yes, I caved in to peer pressure, hee hee.

The entire point of this is - bags don't bring me fulfilment. They bring some people a lot of happiness, and that's nice. I don't judge what makes you happy, as long as it makes you happy, it's good.

Now, off to read my March edition of Economist :)

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