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I tried studying at Barnes & Noble, ended up spending most of the time deciding to buy two books. I’m really looking forward to them - to be specific, the ones on the left are the ones I wanna get back to the most once finals are done - but in a way…it might’ve not been the best decision.
I really don’t know if “teenager going through rebellious phase” is still something people go through, considering that some social norms have died out, but if everyone had one, I guess there were a few points where I felt the need to go against the norm and be different by reading different, but that failed tremendously. Logically, you can’t be different when you already are different, and considering that no two people are ever truly alike, the only option is be yourself and do what you want. Expand what you know and explore, yes, but I made the mistake of trying it in leaps and jumps rather than steps and strides, because steps and strides aren’t so tiring. Awkward transition point, so hey, look here, a list thing:
- One of the books in the middle of the picture is about the brain, the mind and neuroplasticity - I was at least 12 when I bought it. What I basically got from it (read: I read the blurb on the back) is an argument of mind over matter concerning psychological disorders, inflated with bio-babble. If you’re wondering, no, I barely understood it.
- I bought the Tao Teh Ching by Lao Tzu, the one on top in the middle, when I was 15, which does make sense, but it doesn’t.
- Aside from the aforementioned, there’s one pseudoscience book that I’m not quite into reading, and two of Carl Sagan’s books. There’s the thick motherfucker Cosmos, which I’ve slowly trudged my way through, and its sequel, Pale Blue Dot. I don’t think I have to explain why I really want to get to that one. Or Cosmos either.
- There’s a pile of notable works by notable authors off to the right in the picture, with their books and small novellas and poem/story collections and plays, that I feel obligated to read, basically my plate of cultural veggies. A few I got for free, and I think I should be free to return them, haha.
Something that too many have in common is that I’m only partway through, with bookmarks improvised from napkins, note cards, train schedules, or old receipts. Too many worlds abandoned or unvisited, suspense unbuilt, mystery still clouded, doors unopened, all those things, and they’re all waiting.
Fuck, I need to read more.
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Fiiinally got around to buying a copy of Blankets. I’ve borrowed it numerous times from the library, and as odd as some bits of it may be, it’s still one of my favorites. Expect a few scans to pop up at some point or another. I’m also hoping to actually stick to reading more often.
I’m also trying to see if I can get into more of some of Gaiman’s stuff - all I’ve read from him so far was Good Omens with Terry Pratchett and a good chunks of things from the Sandman mythos. Watching the film adaptation of Coraline might count. Considering the diversity of what he’s written on in both genre and medium, along with what I’ve learned from him from his tumblr (also, if you go to his site, he’s got a few free stories on there), I think he’s a fantastic guy, and one of my goals is, aside from reading more from other writers, is to find more stuff by him and buy it if I like it. Particularly Sandman, but that might take a while.
One odd thing I noticed is that I’m more likely to appreciate an artist, be it musician, writer, filmmaker, magician, or anything else, if they choose not to limit themselves. This might very well be ironic, coming from a dilettante such as myself. I wouldn’t describe these people as polymaths or Renaissance Men/Women so readily - they are flexible within what they do, but the terms seem a bit…broad, I guess. Whichever the case, it’s not something everyone can do, which is why dilettantes exist, but I’m fascinated by those who do have that capability.
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So I decided to dig out an old Halloween costume.
In 6th grade, I chose to dress up as Harry Potter for Halloween. If my memory serves me right, I might’ve been on the second book by then. Whether it was my first time or fourth, or however many times more, I don’t know. But I was there, disappointed like every other 11 year-old that I didn’t get my owl, or a house flooded with letters. To compensate, I premeditated my costume choice by picking the Harry Potter™ glasses they were selling, despite that they were too small and slid down my nose too often. Halloween came around, I got the cloak(in picture), wand(not in picture), and a tacky prosthetic scar(in garbage). So everyone else saw a little Filipino kid with glasses somewhat too small for him, and a lump of clay smacked on his forehead with scarred Caucasian skin in the middle. Aside from the scar, that was one of my favorite costumes (including but not limited to: Power Rangers & Batman. And for one blazing yet tiny moment, Batman Ranger).
I didn’t invest myself so much as others did, but as soon each book came out, for the next few days, nothing else existed. The films themselves were always surreal, as if each and every character leapt from the pages into the silver screen, richer and more detailed than my mind could ever imagine. When I didn’t have those, or something else to be fascinated by, I’d lurk around online, finding fanart and fanfiction of wildly varied variety and quality. I was immersed into their world, and I’d have loved it if I could’ve stayed there. Discovery of slash fanfics notwithstanding.
When the first book and whatever else we had was delivered to our house, that book caught my eye. Huddled under the dinner table, I made my way through the first page before my sister took it back, reminding me that she was the one who ordered it, justifying that she got to read it first. At that time, the idea of a different and magical world was new to me, the idea that that world’s story coming to an end later on staying a distant thought. Reading it to its end was so much for me. Literally seeing it end, besides “mixed”, I don’t have any other way to describe it. Mrs. Rowling said that we’ll always be welcome back, whether by book or film, but it feels like I’m leaving a good friend’s house, and the door’s closing. I know Pottermore’s gonna be around, but still. I’ll miss these guys.
Oh and my sister pre-ordered tickets for the midnight premiere online.
i can explain.
ever since junior year in high school, i thought it would be a good idea to get more into reading. next to some awesome books i could find at barnes and noble, i picked up what looked interesting at some book giveaways at the school library. despite having no time, i did get around to reading some books. the rest slowly formed into a paper-bound side table. maybe i’ll donate some of those somewhere. as for the rest…
bring. it. on.
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the best summary of some of my current interests: zombies, odd-yet-awesome influental physicists and astrologists, and the growth of science alongside humanity.
it’s random, i’m aware of that.
with cosmos, i’ve still yet to finish it. i can only take all that detail and history that carl sagan provides if i read it when i’ve got much more free time. on the other hand, “surely you’re joking mr. feynman!” is a book filled with anecdotes from a friend’s recorded conversations with the physicist. as far as i’ve been gotten, it’s kinda like the stories you’d expect to hear from talking to an old friendly neighbor or an interesting uncle. it ranges from amusing and odd things, like how he stole a door from his frat house in MIT and his interest in playing bongos, to the serious, such as his involvement in the manhattan project(next to that, at this time, his wife died of tuberculosis). it’s a fascinating book that gives a fantastic glimpse into his mind and his life.
science aside, i finished world war z in 4 days, which i think is oddly quick. it’s definitely getting me excited for walking dead. in any case, it’s an amazing epistolary novel that takes romero’s use of the zombie epidemic as social commentary and brings it to an international and hellish level with a collection of intensely gripping stories, studying the effects of how this hypothetical disease can affect so many over the span of years. i’m currently listening to an audiobook version of world war z on youtube (you can listen to part 1 here). the author himself takes the part of the interviewer, and an ensemble of people playing the individuals he interviews. i highy recommend the book and audio book both for any zombie fan.
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Breakfast At Tiffany’s
in the original novella, holly golightly never ended up with the narrator. her and the narrator(known in the film as paul varjak.) weren’t in love like the film. no kiss marking the end of the story and some happy ever after. the way he loved her was probably stated no better than rex harrison had said it in “my fair lady”, in that line “i’ve grown accustomed to her face”, just accustomed to having her around. she let cat go when she fled the country, and that moment she shoved the poor little dude out of the car was the last she saw of her furry little friend. only too late did she recognize how much it meant to her. very likely, there were others in her life who mean a lot to her, like that cat.
however, if i remember it right, the narrator, varjak, hadn’t held much importance in her eyes. if he waited the right amount of time and tried sending something to her, she wouldn’t recognize him. same happened to me. maybe he was just another rat. whether or not he was, he missed her. he wanted to talk to her again like they used to, so he could tell her what he’d been doing when she was gone, but he never saw her again. knowing he’ll never be that place of safety for her, all he could hope for is that she finds it without him. i probably didn’t sum it up very well, but maybe i should take it all as a hint.
Source: bohemea
Quote reblogged from Quote Book: with 633 notes
Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.
Source: quote-book
