My biggest extravagance is..

books. I spend more on books than on anything else. I shop for books more than shopping for clothes. My problem is that I read so fast that I always need more. If I lived in the US, I’ll probably spend half of my day in a public library and get laid. I have to choose between spending huge chunks of my savings on books or just becoming a non-reader. The latter would be like preventing a dog from going on long walks, i.e., so numbing. You could leave me in a bookstore and I won’t completely care – just give me money, all right? I’m solved. Bookstores are my temple.

Books are my secret way to traveling. I travel without even having to move. I go to places and discover undiscovered ones without spending half the plane ticket. How cool is that? But of course, nothing beats having to actually travel. But it’s a cheap thrill. No, no, books aren’t even cheap.

My childhood was packed with different stories read to me by my mom and dad. Fairy tales are always present, all I have to do is imagine I’m one princess. My father tells me stories made up of nowhere, my mom reading me books to make me sleep. I read books somewhere else where I could be the character in that book and completely, dream to a faraway land.

Books have been an access to so many things for me. Fiction has allowed me to experience lives other than mine, and to know my own experiences in someone else’s narrative. I would love to go back in time and bump into Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy and be a witness to the greatest love there is. At school, books have been my lecturers. They taught me how to make a convincing argument and compose essays that would shock my teachers and friends. It educated me words that are very new to my vocabulary and suddenly, in no time, I am using it to express my own ideas. It taught me to compose blogs – lively blogs amongst the ordinary, narrate-your-day ones. I was completely mesmerized how much a book can offer. Despite the price I pay, big or small, it still inculcates you something you cannot learn over the hill.

Books have taught me how to fix a broken wire, how to put on make-up, how to calm my mind when it is all over the place, how to handle difficult people, how to choose a career, and so much more.

Nothing takes place of the real experience, but there is also nothing that takes the place of someone else’s view. You read it word by word and abruptly get mesmerized at how high the level of thinking this person has. His carefully written ideas breathe a new air to me and all of a sudden, I’m inspired to write.

I would be a very different person if I didn’t read. I would be less of an individual, my values wouldn’t have been improved, I would know less about everything (partly, because I get most of my knowledge in books than on anything else besides the television, the internet, magazines, &c.), I would not grow into the person who I am now, my views would be so quickly distorted --- I become feeble. I would see things differently, more of to another person’s own point of view. I would be less secure of myself.

At the moment, I am reading Mr. Darcy’s Diary. After watching Pride and Prejudice over the summer, I somehow realized that I adore the things happening at their time: the places, the settings, and the different characters. It is very peculiar to have think of merging it with our days. I think my only way of being in that world is reading books related to the movie.

I feel that we are all always hungry for something new. That we constantly need something where we could escape in our routines and be someone else. I want to already jump into summer, where I could always use my time reading books, which catches me. I want to go shopping, for books. I even dream of building my own bookstore someday – it will be a 3 storey building with a cafe in the middle and people could just lounge around after a tiring day and let time slip by. Similar to Fully Booked in Fort Bonifacio. Ah, the feeling of luxury.

What I’m reading is always a reflection of who I am, my feelings. You can sometimes find me cuddling up with a children’s book. Fairly because I want to open my eyes to a different world where nothing so serious is going on, where it is to believe that it’s always fun to drift around with your doll and holding a lollipop on the other hand. You don’t care about the world, but the world cares so much of you.

Reading is in the blood of my family. My cousins read a lot so I’m thankful. I won’t always have to buy books, we could always share. And it’s good that we have different tastes for awhile, it somehow opens doors for new voyages, new flavors. I completely think one cannot forever love something, people change. People incessantly want a different taste. Say, an ice cream, you can’t always love the chocolate flavor when there’s the strawberry, the mango and other developing flavors. Same as books, you can’t always love romantic ones when there is a wide variety of selections. We are all work-in progress.

My grandmother has a library in her house and I’m always free to stay there and borrow books. They even have the whole encyclopedia set, even the Collier’s set. And what even surprises me is the Anne Frank novel that was the very first published book! I can’t believe that that diary dates back so old.

The funny thing is that I’m brought up with the feeling that books come in contemptible prices – that I could always afford it. I never thought that it could get so expensive and happen to be my extravagance! Oh. Come on, oh dahling, fetch me my shake.. and my .. book.