I think birthdays are a fascinating thing. I may not be the girl who organizes the most extravagant birthday parties, or the one who is the life of the party (actually I'm the one who mostly has a quiet birthday with him and the family), but I do make an effort to be aware of when everyone's birthday is.
A week ago, I had to pick my sister up at the Bangsar LRT and I was early and she was a little late, so I ended up hanging around Bangsar Village, just waiting for time to pass. I have to admit that at first I was pretty pissed off but after a while I actually learned to value the time I had to myself; I mean, how often do I wander around on my own these days?
And I found myself wandering around the bookstore MPH, a shop that I used to roam around all the time when I was a teenager. Shopping? What did I care about that; all I wanted to do was swing by a bookstore. So I'm wondering around the store, looking for a book to purchase so that I can sit on a bench somewhere while waiting for my sister to arrive, and I find this compilation by Haruki Murakami called Birthday Stories.
So I get to the payment counter and the moment I hand over my credit card to pay for my purchase, my sister calls to say she has arrived. -.- FML I wasted so much time just picking out a book that I had no time to read it.
But I digress. The book is great. The short stories are perfect for someone like me who has a pretty short attention span, and I think all the stories are interesting in their own way. Some are just strange, some are morbid, some are lighter. It's not about how happy and fluffy and perfect birthdays are, but instead about the darkness and reality and how it differs from person to person. I haven't finished the book yet, but I have to say, I am definitely enjoying it. And this is the only other book I've actually read in years (apart from all of Sophie Kinsella's books) so that really says something!
Writing about birthdays has gotten me thinking; can I be 21 again pretty please?
A week ago, I had to pick my sister up at the Bangsar LRT and I was early and she was a little late, so I ended up hanging around Bangsar Village, just waiting for time to pass. I have to admit that at first I was pretty pissed off but after a while I actually learned to value the time I had to myself; I mean, how often do I wander around on my own these days?
And I found myself wandering around the bookstore MPH, a shop that I used to roam around all the time when I was a teenager. Shopping? What did I care about that; all I wanted to do was swing by a bookstore. So I'm wondering around the store, looking for a book to purchase so that I can sit on a bench somewhere while waiting for my sister to arrive, and I find this compilation by Haruki Murakami called Birthday Stories.
So I get to the payment counter and the moment I hand over my credit card to pay for my purchase, my sister calls to say she has arrived. -.- FML I wasted so much time just picking out a book that I had no time to read it.
But I digress. The book is great. The short stories are perfect for someone like me who has a pretty short attention span, and I think all the stories are interesting in their own way. Some are just strange, some are morbid, some are lighter. It's not about how happy and fluffy and perfect birthdays are, but instead about the darkness and reality and how it differs from person to person. I haven't finished the book yet, but I have to say, I am definitely enjoying it. And this is the only other book I've actually read in years (apart from all of Sophie Kinsella's books) so that really says something!
Writing about birthdays has gotten me thinking; can I be 21 again pretty please?
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