I don’t usually bring a book around and read them under my table, so I guess most people assume I don’t really read. That’s the impression I give, maybe. Well actually I suck at multi-tasking, so usually I avoid reading in class or around school, cause it’s so distracting. But if you see me alone in the public transport or at home, I would be reading most of the time. Besides using the computer or watching the telly.
Another reason being because once I start to read I cannot put the book down. I meant the last statement literally. Like, even if I am dying of thirst I would wash the cup and pour myself a drink while reading it. If I need to get something from the convenience store downstairs I would be reading the whole way. You know what I mean? So I can polish off the book quickly, instead of reading small bits here and there. I never believed in the “spread your reading over a period of time” policy.
I went to Rosyth Childcare, (Childcare, mind you! Nursery!) where they seriously emphasised alot on education. I bet my chinese was way better back in nursery than NOW. I mean honestly, they drill like crazy. I was one like what, three or four? And guess what the wrote in my report book? That I don’t read enough! Like WTH!? How much do you expect nursery school kids to be reading? So my mum (being the typical kiasu mother) bought a whole array of Poldy books, Ladybird books, etc etc.)
Which I flipped through and then tossed aside.
Okay well remember the time when Teletubbies were ALL the craze? I was one of those crazy teeny tot of a fan, wearing Teletubby teeshirts, owning a Teletubby dollhouse (I love it so freaking much!!! It rocked!) and fanatically watching every episode of Teletubbies ever made. In school we also (like every other kid of our generation) roleplayed Teletubbies. And I remember (you can also infer from the photos I had throughout kindergarten) that I ALWAYS carry my talking Lala doll around. EVERYWHERE. I mean EVERYWHERE. Like when I go out with my family. To weddings, to sleep. Everywhere.
Of course all of the above could not yet satisfy my insatiable appetite for everything Teletubbies, so I pestered my mum to buy the Teletubby picture books. I drank them in avidly. Book after book after book. And when I’ve finished off the entire collection of Teletubby books, I felt this inner hollowness. Like I just HAD to read somemore.
Aha. This is where the story (pun, hahaha!) proceeds. My mum (remember? typical kiasu mother) took this opportunity to flood me with books. Roald Dahl and (loads of) Enid Blyton. Beverly Cleary and later on Jacqueline Wilson. I practically grew up with all these names. Which kinda explains my eye degree now.
After that phase, the my reading rate dwindled, cause it is just THAT hard to actually find a good book suitable for our age. I mean, the plots for Roald Dahl and what not are just plain awesome, but Fiction of Young Adults (as they so nicely euphemise it to be) are just full of chick flick crap and crushes and blondes and whatnot.
It annoying how authors think that when we reach this age, all we want to read about is girls our age with family problems, crushes, insecurites with their bodies and bitchy friendships. Like, NO! Please, we would like some good read too. I mean, WTH. Just because hormones are messing with our brains at this phase jolly well DOES NOT mean we are all dumb zombies walking around aimlessly chanting, “sex, crush, backstab, mini-skirts… sex, crush, backstab, mini-skirts” okay!?
When you start to read books aimed at adults, besides the classics like Jodi Picoult and Amy Tan and whatnot, all the rest comes down to always this plot: a hot not-so-young woman with mid-life crisis and a mess of past romances starts work at some firm and this hot boss and her starts to develop a pure and true relationship. They start to have sex and get married. The end.
I mean like, what the hell.
Q 