This year, I'm giving up on attending warehouse sales for books and book fest. So un-me {created a new word today}. But I have got easily 2 huge pile of books lying in my room, waiting eagerly to be read {which amounts to easily 30 odd books). Sometimes I feel as a book shopaholic I would devote all my time to just reading but very unfortunately I have too much passion to just focus on one thing.
Very unfortunate.
I have to say that for all the books that I have bought thus far, I always have trouble picking up the next book once I am done with one. And I always pick the ones that I'm in the mood for reading at that point in time. And I could only take one at a time.
Imagine if my books could talk. Imagine them jumping up and down with their little cute short legs, 1 of the tiny hands up high, squeaking, "Me! Me! Me!" Seeking for my undivided attention when I come to the shelves. Hmm. How am I going to choose? And as much as I could, I always end up saying this to the ones I did not pick, "Not today my dears, not today. But I love you all the same, otherwise, I would not have bought you."
I do wish at times like this that I have this time freeze which I could freeze everyone else but myself just to steal 2-3 hours a day to read. Everyone else stop for that time. I believe with only that I would be able to catch up with my pile of unread. I feel sorry for them because books are made to be read. Writings over writings are printed to be enjoyed by people. To be devour like the mouth of a hungry tiger onto the fresh succulent deer it has just maul.
Books. Books and me.
So far, I am starting to carry the book I am currently reading around in my handbag. So besides playing with the games in my iphone, I'm also catching up with my books. Well, at least I'm putting some effort to do it. At least I can now look at my books into the eyes and say, "Hang on little fellas, I'm coming to you next, very, very soon."
