(Title inspired by the Sugarcult's Majoring in Minor. A personal favorite.)
I am absolutely sure that what I've finished in college is a degree in Reading. Leisurely reading to be exact. Major in Young Adult (Teens) fiction. Minor in Philippine literature. Specialization? I'm not sure. Perhaps voracious...? Or speed reading?
***
I made an inventory of all my books for the last four years of my existence, my so-called college life. As of last night, I counted a total of 164 books --- 135 of which are international publications in paperback and hardbound, with varied genre but mostly Young Adult (Teens) fiction and the remaining 39, locally published.
Of these 164 collected books, 46 were "untouched" (i.e. unread and/or unfinished) leaving the remaining 118 books appreciated and were therefore, read and finished with utmost pleasure within four years.
I also made an inventory of the books I borrowed either from the school library or from my sister's shelf, still within the four-year span. I recalled about 26 books, in international and local paperbacks, with different genres, but mostly again, YA fiction. Some of these I've reread a couple of times but I did the counting per title only. In addition to the 26 books, I also included as the 27th "not owned but read" book the special case of Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse which I've read as a soft copy (a pdf file) directly from my laptop in one sitting (from late night 'til dawn).
All in all I read about 145 books (excluding rereads) during my entire four-year college life, with an annual reading rate of 36.25 books or roughly three (3.0208) books a month. Not bad. But I could have still done so much more. I mean, I could read about three books in a row. Well, not really in a day, though, if let's say, I started at night. But I could definitely finish the trio within 24 hours. Just like what I did with A Book Thief (Markus Zusak), A Note of Madness (Tabitha Suzuma), and Bloodline (Kate Cary). However, I started about halfway with A Book Thief so you might say I just finished 2 1/2 books. I need to mention then that I also started with Rant (Chuck Palahniuk). So there. I was simultaneously reading 4 books in a row during the boring week of attending to my school clearance and graduation stuffs.
***
Three days ago I sort of felt malaise. So that when night came, I fell sick. The next morning, I had to take pills. I stayed at home to rest and to get some really good long sleep. But before I fell into a slumber, I managed to pull out a random book from the shelf. I reread MacArthur (Bob Ong) and within an hour or so, I went back to the bookshelf and picked out Rich Dad, Poor Dad (____). I fall asleep thrice the entire day (the drug effect) so by the time I was finished with the book, it was already quite late at night, like 10 or 10:30. But I felt well. I daresay, the books healed me not the pills.
I am absolutely sure that what I've finished in college is a degree in Reading. Leisurely reading to be exact. Major in Young Adult (Teens) fiction. Minor in Philippine literature. Specialization? I'm not sure. Perhaps voracious...? Or speed reading?
***
I made an inventory of all my books for the last four years of my existence, my so-called college life. As of last night, I counted a total of 164 books --- 135 of which are international publications in paperback and hardbound, with varied genre but mostly Young Adult (Teens) fiction and the remaining 39, locally published.
Of these 164 collected books, 46 were "untouched" (i.e. unread and/or unfinished) leaving the remaining 118 books appreciated and were therefore, read and finished with utmost pleasure within four years.
I also made an inventory of the books I borrowed either from the school library or from my sister's shelf, still within the four-year span. I recalled about 26 books, in international and local paperbacks, with different genres, but mostly again, YA fiction. Some of these I've reread a couple of times but I did the counting per title only. In addition to the 26 books, I also included as the 27th "not owned but read" book the special case of Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse which I've read as a soft copy (a pdf file) directly from my laptop in one sitting (from late night 'til dawn).
All in all I read about 145 books (excluding rereads) during my entire four-year college life, with an annual reading rate of 36.25 books or roughly three (3.0208) books a month. Not bad. But I could have still done so much more. I mean, I could read about three books in a row. Well, not really in a day, though, if let's say, I started at night. But I could definitely finish the trio within 24 hours. Just like what I did with A Book Thief (Markus Zusak), A Note of Madness (Tabitha Suzuma), and Bloodline (Kate Cary). However, I started about halfway with A Book Thief so you might say I just finished 2 1/2 books. I need to mention then that I also started with Rant (Chuck Palahniuk). So there. I was simultaneously reading 4 books in a row during the boring week of attending to my school clearance and graduation stuffs.
***
Three days ago I sort of felt malaise. So that when night came, I fell sick. The next morning, I had to take pills. I stayed at home to rest and to get some really good long sleep. But before I fell into a slumber, I managed to pull out a random book from the shelf. I reread MacArthur (Bob Ong) and within an hour or so, I went back to the bookshelf and picked out Rich Dad, Poor Dad (____). I fall asleep thrice the entire day (the drug effect) so by the time I was finished with the book, it was already quite late at night, like 10 or 10:30. But I felt well. I daresay, the books healed me not the pills.
It's my soul that needs the feeding and not my system.
Yesterday, I had Rant for lunch. It was already 2 PM when i finished with the rubbish in my old cabinet. I announced (said outloud... it was typical of me) that I was already hungry but my mother seeing me clutch the book and about to go to my sister's room (i don't have my own room and i sleep on the floor of our tiny living room), prompted me, saying "I thought you said you were hungry?" to which i replied, "I am and I'm gonna eat these words" referring to the book I was carrying. And so at last, after three weeks in limbo, I managed to finish, and it's ANOTHER Chuck Palahniuk's (the most challenging writer), Rant by 6 PM.
Another achievement counted.
Chuck's books are the toughest, nerve-wrecking, nose-bleeding, gut-coiling I've encountered (so far?). The words are so vivid, you can actually see the description of whatever's in the plot inside your head. I can still remember how I almost threw up laughing or threw up totally grossed out while reading Haunted. Here in Rant, I nearly had goosebumps grossed out with Rant picking his nose and sticking the tiny, ball-like, black snot up his bedroom's ceiling when he was young. it was too gross to be true but i guess not improbable. And while I was nearing the end, I swear outloud (drove me out of control) reacting to one of the character's statement.
***
The idea of doing the inventory is primarily to free a generous space out of our tiny apartment by either selling or giving them away. Right now, my books are occupying the top shelves of the cabinet, my camping bag, old bags, and my luggage. If only I had so much money, I would bring them all with me. Sadly, the only options I got are: (1) to eliminate them (i.e., by selling or donating/throwing?!?) and (2) to move them to the old house where termites can in no time, feast on them.
Right now, it's breaking my heart to part with them. They are my only real treasures. Material treasures, that is. All characters, their stories, their dreams, their perspectives, are all equally precious to me. They all have become a significant part of me. I am all of them. A fusion, that is. It's the opposite case of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's or Tom Marvolo Riddle's horcruxes. Each book, I treated with tender loving care, not folding the book and avoiding as much as possible to create creases on the spine. And I am very extra careful when it comes to my hardbounds. I remove the jacket before I start reading, and I make sure my hands are clean before I remove the jacket. I guess, those people whom I've lend can attest to the excellent condition of my books.
..Which reminds me suddenly of this particular book, a favorite of mine, that has passed on to several hands and unfortunately met its sorry state. I couldn't help but feel like a mother robbed of her dear daughter just to be reunited later on (but sadly) in a living nightmare. Tell me, how does a mother of a rape victim feel?
But I have to rid myself of useless sentiments. I should use my brain and not my heart so as to think and act properly.
I need to be practical.
I was opting to sell the books online - in ebay or Amazon, for example. But even before I could take action, I was already disheartened by my sister. Said, I would never sell. I considered her thought. She has a point. Who in the world would want to buy a secondhand book at this time in life where everyone's indulging in temporary oblivion to alleviate suffering and stuff through marketable gadgets and goodies... I was kidding myself. Nobody would buy my books. Maybe there would be one or a few, perhaps... but the question is, when? In how many years? Ages hence. When I'm already dead? I should have sold them earlier in Booksale stalls owned by the Manongs and Kuyas along the AS walk while I was still in school. Darn. I could have earned some dough and buy myself a bottle of vodka.
So now I was toying with the idea of donating. Donating and NOT giving away/throwing (?!?). My mother was explicitly stating she's gonna give them away to the kariton boys as soon as I leave the house.
I wish I could donate these books to the Main Library. To the Library Science Library, perhaps, where they have these Home-reading section with sadly, few and old (and some are already torn) books. Maybe my books could stack these shelves up.
***
Actually, my hidden agenda doing this elaborate inventory involving figures and average reading is to impress Stefan.
Another achievement counted.
Chuck's books are the toughest, nerve-wrecking, nose-bleeding, gut-coiling I've encountered (so far?). The words are so vivid, you can actually see the description of whatever's in the plot inside your head. I can still remember how I almost threw up laughing or threw up totally grossed out while reading Haunted. Here in Rant, I nearly had goosebumps grossed out with Rant picking his nose and sticking the tiny, ball-like, black snot up his bedroom's ceiling when he was young. it was too gross to be true but i guess not improbable. And while I was nearing the end, I swear outloud (drove me out of control) reacting to one of the character's statement.
***
The idea of doing the inventory is primarily to free a generous space out of our tiny apartment by either selling or giving them away. Right now, my books are occupying the top shelves of the cabinet, my camping bag, old bags, and my luggage. If only I had so much money, I would bring them all with me. Sadly, the only options I got are: (1) to eliminate them (i.e., by selling or donating/throwing?!?) and (2) to move them to the old house where termites can in no time, feast on them.
Right now, it's breaking my heart to part with them. They are my only real treasures. Material treasures, that is. All characters, their stories, their dreams, their perspectives, are all equally precious to me. They all have become a significant part of me. I am all of them. A fusion, that is. It's the opposite case of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's or Tom Marvolo Riddle's horcruxes. Each book, I treated with tender loving care, not folding the book and avoiding as much as possible to create creases on the spine. And I am very extra careful when it comes to my hardbounds. I remove the jacket before I start reading, and I make sure my hands are clean before I remove the jacket. I guess, those people whom I've lend can attest to the excellent condition of my books.
..Which reminds me suddenly of this particular book, a favorite of mine, that has passed on to several hands and unfortunately met its sorry state. I couldn't help but feel like a mother robbed of her dear daughter just to be reunited later on (but sadly) in a living nightmare. Tell me, how does a mother of a rape victim feel?
But I have to rid myself of useless sentiments. I should use my brain and not my heart so as to think and act properly.
I need to be practical.
I was opting to sell the books online - in ebay or Amazon, for example. But even before I could take action, I was already disheartened by my sister. Said, I would never sell. I considered her thought. She has a point. Who in the world would want to buy a secondhand book at this time in life where everyone's indulging in temporary oblivion to alleviate suffering and stuff through marketable gadgets and goodies... I was kidding myself. Nobody would buy my books. Maybe there would be one or a few, perhaps... but the question is, when? In how many years? Ages hence. When I'm already dead? I should have sold them earlier in Booksale stalls owned by the Manongs and Kuyas along the AS walk while I was still in school. Darn. I could have earned some dough and buy myself a bottle of vodka.
So now I was toying with the idea of donating. Donating and NOT giving away/throwing (?!?). My mother was explicitly stating she's gonna give them away to the kariton boys as soon as I leave the house.
I wish I could donate these books to the Main Library. To the Library Science Library, perhaps, where they have these Home-reading section with sadly, few and old (and some are already torn) books. Maybe my books could stack these shelves up.
***
Actually, my hidden agenda doing this elaborate inventory involving figures and average reading is to impress Stefan.
Sa akin na lang! Sa akin na lang tita ola books mu!!!!!
ReplyDeletehehe.
please?
seriously, would love to have them..haha.