My extremely complicated relationship with books.

Every single morning, I wake up to see my shelves filled with books. Like there are about 4 shelves entirely dedicated to books. I speak so very highly of reading, but I actually don’t read. I could now use the New Girl reference where, Nick once said, “Writers don’t read.” or that one where in Midnight in Paris, where Hemingway said, “If it’s bad, I’ll hate it because I hate bad writing, and if it’s good, I’ll be envious and hate all the more. You don’t want the opinion of another writer.” I don’t think I can call myself a writer though. But hey, the quotes are pretty neat and I’m actually surprised that I remembered them well enough to add them to this post. The last time I read was probably a year ago, and it was terrifyingly..horrible. Therefore, I gave up on books, and mostly young Indian authors, who need to come up with better stories than college-trashing-sex-craving ones, that are already selling out faster than One Direction concert tickets.

I promised myself I’d finish reading at least 2 books by the end of spring break. But I barely even looked at the books during the past few days. Well, until now, when I had to write a post about them. I take a lot of time to finish books, and it annoys me but I enjoy that a little bit. There’s a certain joy in knowing that you have all these books you haven’t finished reading, you won’t know how they’ll end, unless you reach that one particular day, when you finally realise how it all ends. I find that quite exciting, most probably because you’ll know you have something to look forward to, I guess. Oh, and I also tend to spend most of my life buying books. So, at the end of the day, I’m the person with a room full of books that I haven’t even bothered to open.

I thought I could watch movies, instead reading, because I believe my reading phase hasn’t quite dawned upon me yet. So, I wake up at about 8 in the morning, eat breakfast, and start my movie marathon. Then, I spend some time searching weird stuff on google or just going through Buzzfeed and taking quizzes like “What type of cat are you?” (The answer was munchkin, if you wanted to know.) But then eventually, and somehow I’ll end up finding about one or two books; either because I watched a movie based on it, or due to the fact that, some blog on tumblr quoted some lines from it.

And so, I find ways to get the books. Inexpensive ways, of course. (God bless flipkart!) Ordering books online became a thing. It started off with one, and I ended up ordering 6 of them. They arrive at the end of the month, and my first Fitzgerald book ever, is one of them. With their arrival, they’ll be happily stacked away with the 20 other books of mine, patiently waiting for the day that I, or someone else with better reading habits will carefully open them with love, and read them. I don’t know when I’ll actually finish reading all the books that I’ve got. Maybe it’ll be next week or maybe never. Maybe it’ll be when I enter level 1 of mid-life crisis or maybe I’ll read it to my kids until they doze off. (I really love kids, apologies for skipping 12 years to my future, too fast.) I guess that’s some kind of excitement that is worth the wait.


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