I’m a voracious reader again. After almost ten years of sparse reading, I’ve developed a hunger for books, books, books! I can’t get enough of them. I wish to do nothing but luxuriate in written words and drink in ideas from author after author like a thirsting man in a desert. If there were such a thing as a BA, Bookaholics Anonymous, I would need the therapy. I’ve been buying up a pile which has been ruthlessly growing fast, and I’m failing utterly in keeping up. I’d sooner buy novels than help myself to the latest in fashion and cosmetics. Clothing stores simply bore me now; but, I could spend the entire day in a bookshop.
I just love to gaze at all those neatly stacked spines on my shelf. And I love to smell a new book when I flip the first page — a habit I’ve carried since gradeschool.
In two months, it will be the New Year and I must make an iron clad resolve : Stop borrowing or buying novels until my books-to-read pile goes down to at least one-fourth its original number. But until then, “you can never have too much of a good thing”.
I guess you know I’m hopeless.
—November 5, 2008—–