Easterrs

A fine weekend, yes fine. Normal. Quaint.

For the past few days we were throwing stuff out of the house. Throwing here means moving. Tying things in plastic bags, stuffing things in boxes, ridding ourselves of useless ephemera accumulated through the years.

It was a course of action that I initiated early Thursday morning. Our small apartment has become more of a junk shop than a house. I'm not really sure if it is because we find it hard to part with things or we just never really bothered tidying up. But, though I don't want to blame it wholly, my mother has this malevolent trait of hoarding, she's someone you can aptly call a "hoarder". She keeps holding on to items which she explains, "Can be used someday" for purposes (for me at least) highly unlikely to happen. I have to make it clear that my mom steadfastly cleans the house from time to time but she has since been preoccupied with therapy.

To give you an example, we keep 5 busted fans in our living room, a broken table, medicine cabinet & microwave oven under a bed etc.

So for those two days we were all like FBI agents with search warrants tearin' the house down. And it, I must say, left me a sense of calm especially after. The bowels of our home at last expelled all waste. At last you can actually sit down the sofa and sleep on it.

And I feel content.

Once again I felt thankful that I have a roof over my head. Unlimited internet access. Life. The Universe. Everything.

***

I've also been catchin' up on my reading itinerary, and for lent I've picked up Albert's The Plague once again. I started reading it four years ago, never had the chance to read it through, maybe because I was "too young" for it back then. But now, with fresh pair of eyes I've come to appreciate its morbidity. Its rebellion.

Also, to experience something new, I've downloaded an audio book: The Sea by John Banville. It won the 2005 Man Booker Prize, the same year Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go was shortlisted.

Listening to audio books is a different experience for me. It's reading in a way but more fluid. You find yourself drifting at some points of the narrative to digressions of unrelated things. And I find it very contemplative and relaxing. It does help, I must stress, if the material is any good.

For the first few minutes I felt sleepy but the story soon got interesting. The novel reads like a memoir, with the narrator describing in elegant detail the death of his wife, his childhood lust for Mrs. Grace, his ugly daughter etc. interwoven together. I love Banville's deep insight and mastery of words. I envy him for saying things I've never could've crafted. I've finished listening to the first part (which ran for 3 hours and 45mins) and will soon listen listen to part two maybe this evening.

Also, I must mention that I prefer "The Sea" over "Never Let Me Go" (though I like Ishiguro's works in general)

So there.

A wonderful weekend. And have I mentioned that I've finally watched the Paris episode of Globe Trekker at 4am? It was great, one day I'll be there. And of course I still think of London (Bloomsbury and Covent Garden lately).

Got this crazy idea of getting a lit degree and apply as a London librarian after. It's so crazy that I might just do it. Alas! let my life play out as it is supposed to. Because at 21 I'm starting to become a fatalist though I believe that my London life was predetermined before I was born.

What?