Handbook VS Facebook -Part I-

It's the 8th or 9th since I first started the habit. The travelling moments that consume almost the whole late morning dawn, rather than having my head bend down looking at a lighted-screen for a long time, staring at words and thoughts who's published without getting any 'censorship' check by those 'Friends' in Facebook, a real book is what I prioritize. It's not that I'm detached completely from that so-called social medias world, where there are much more than Facebook; WhatsApp, WeChat, and these medias where they require too much communications, mostly the unnecessary one, where for me, I thought that I am not yet belong into that world. Just NOT YET for now. Twitter is cool, I have an account where I only follow some influenced-peeps, and yeah, no real known-friends in there. The place I'll gain inspirations and motivations.

Maybe I can finally say that, I have changed. After all, today marks a second months since my 25th anniversary living on this earth. It took almost a year before I can confirmed with myself about this.
It's a good things for me, and I hope it's good to others, too.

Back to the reading topic, my obsession for autobiographies have never fade since I was in kid-sized. A story about a non-persona, especially, the end of every of it is death. So, the one with no death part, won't really get my attention, because I thought this type of autobiography won't give me as much lessons as I read those with passing-away moment one. Again, since I was very young at body-sized, I have so much curiosity in one's regret in their life, and how he/she wanted to make the best out of it if they have the superpower of turning back their time, the time where things were still pretty chill and cool, like before they were diagnosed with pancreatic cancer for Patrick Swayze the actor case, perhaps.
A logic ending, that's what I refer them as. Of course, before anyone gets buried or burned, there was this called, 'life'. Even though, the patterns are all almost similar, but one's specific journey on this earth, is never the same, and that's really keep me in interest for the whole time.
I wish I can write my own piece someday, with proper publishing procedures.

Next, by Cecilia Ahern. The most recent one, released on last year's October and also her first piece; The Year I Met You and P/S I Love You, are the only writings that I haven't read. For P/S I Love You, it always been at the top part of my bed, with the intention of making it as my good-night-story-book, before I enter my dreamland, since the total pages of it requires me to hold another tip-toe bag because it can't fit into my decent handbag, and I find it not practical, so, yeah, the top part of my bed, is where it remains 'reside' since June last year, I believe. While the latest published, I have a hard time these days to enter any bookstore, and plus, the whole collections were bought by other sisters. Speaking of buying, my money is only spent on things below RM10. Stock clearance, or perhaps, an old collections of books shop like one in Central Market, KL is where one can find me. I am cheap, I admit, but hey, these materials are as good as everything else, too, it's just that they are old and vintage. Right? So, for The Year I Met You, if none of the sisters would ever by it, I maybe will find time and sit in Kinokuniya or MPH or anywhere that allowed anyone to have a free reading at their premises. I remember of doing these when I was little a lot, where Abah would have brought us the siblings and my target was always the Enid Blyton's, where I mistakenly thought it was 'Guid'(pronounce as 'Ga-id') Blyton; The Famous Five adventures.
When I was fourteen, evening session at Methodist Girls School, KL, where the travelling patterns were similar to today and so by ten o'clock, I reached there. After having my Nasi Lemak(man it was delicious as heaven and clean and I always ate them as it was the most classy cuisine in the most high-rated restaurant, where reality showed I was just one sight of the normal young teenager in school uniform, having a meal in the school canteen and always left some 'sambal' marks on her scarf, indicating how not-neat she's. But, it WAS very good, I'm telling you. Oh d*mn, fourteen years old was like twelve years ago moment, man I'm old.) , I would be in the school antique library. Everything looked so classic in there, the book shelves, the lay out, I mean, I'd been to three different schools on the previous, so, I know what I am comparing at. And one day, I decided to borrow one 'Guid' Blyton's, and then, the teacher in charged said,

"Good, you read English book. Keep it up, babeh,"

Ok, obviously the real was the first sentence, the rest are made up. Anyway, it was my very first piece, if I'm not mistaken. And to have someone compliment me of borrowing an English book, where I maybe actually thought of borrowing it for the sake of borrowing it since I was in a library, and I should actually start to fill up the library card the school have provided(or got forced to buy one? Nevermind), man, that kind of encouragement is always the kind that I'll remember to my heart. It lifted me. Worth-ful for the world. I saw rainbows everywhere. And, happy, the unusual feeling I got when I was in my adolescence age.

But, then I stopped.







(To be continued)