It’s already the fourth month of the year, yet I have read just two books. The first one was The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende, which took me a good two months to finish because my previous job didn’t give me enough chance to read. I slept all day, worked at night, and during rest days (which always fell on week days) was always busy sleeping to restore my energy. Surprisingly, I was able to finish my second book in just two days. Thanks to my new job which always gives me a lot of idle times in the office that I don’t have any excuse not to read. In fact, I am not the only one.
It seems that half of the population in my new work place is readers. In our own team’s bay alone, almost everyone has a book on each station. I found this really ironic because I didn’t see that much of readers when I was still working for Barnes & Noble Nook where we had access to every book that we like using our e-reader devices, from my favorite book Twilight (I’m not lying) to 365 Sex Positions Illustrated—legendary book that got one of our best agents terminated from work. I was quite pleased because it gave me a lot of opportunities to talk to people I’d rather ignore. The only catch is that most of them are currently reading The Hunger Games trilogy. Not only have I (1) tired of talking about the same shit over and over again, (2) my seatmates have also spilt a lot of spoilers I’d rather not know because I still haven’t finished half of Catching Fire, the second of the series, and (3) I don’t have Mockingjay either, and (5) I don’t have anya plan of accomplishing both books.
There is this cute guy, though, who really impressed me. He gave me a good déjà vu when he asked me what I was reading. The House of the Spirits. I was already halfway through the book when he popped the question out of the blue; and followed it up with his own opinions about the novel, the author, and how he liked magic realism. It wasn’t the first time it happened. When I was still working with my previous company, an adorkable guy I didn’t know asked me if I was the one he saw reading the same book the previous day. I didn’t even have the book that moment, so I found it really strange that he remembered me nevertheless. I so love seeing handsome guys who read and write. The next thing I know, we were already in a dark corner of the mall where the company is situated. Nothing much happened—just heavy kissing and hands-all-over. It got me feeling so hideous afterwards, realizing how easily I fell into the trap of my own fancy; thus, ended my fetish for handsome guys who read and write. The only one I know who does it best is my best friend, my first, my one and only. ♥