Date a girl who reads

“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”

(taken from

Published in: on November 23, 2011 at 3:07 pm  Comments (1)  

Delayed, but here it is…

Yesterday’s Happiments:

1. Chosen healthier meals for whole day: 2 Subway sandwiches (only!) + 1 home-brewed latte + lots of juice + tiny chicken pie
2. Braving the storm and traffic positively through K-Pop and Gaga
3. 5 canceled lessons (2 sick, 1 no transport, 2 orientation session) turned out to be major Me-Time
4. Final lap of the flu + sore throat race (I can see the finishing line…)
5. Editing yet another video and publishing it online – I’m one step closer to being an iMovie demigoddess.

Any ideas/recommendations of good podcasts? Like one of those Yoga At Home kinds?

Published in: on May 21, 2011 at 3:39 pm  Leave a Comment  

A book is like a garden carried in the pocket. ~Chinese Proverb

I’ve never actually realised how many books I have until people commented on it. To me, it seems to be a normal amount of books..I mean, it would be abnormal if I have a library – you know convert a room into bookcases of writing materials, some comfy chairs and just-right-height side tables for coffee and drinks while reading with some nice comfy throws and cushions around (as you can see I’ve put this into thought before) but most of my books are scattered around. I admit I have three overflowing decent sized bookcases in the house – one filled with magazines (I never have the heart to throw them away..but then, I know I’m not going to read them again..maybe I should start recycling them) and two filled with fiction, non-fiction and thick fat medical textbooks.

I suppose you can call me a collector – I mean, I do love to read and I’ve been reading consistently for..I don’t know, decades? and I do have a habit of not finishing what I read or just lost interest in the story after some time. But my worse habit is buying books – I can’t help myself. I am the type that when I walk into a bookstore (second-hand, independent, chainstore, foreign language, online, eBay) must come out with a book – usually some obscure fiction but sometimes a bestseller (though I’ve learned from painful experiences, most of the bestsellers that I’ve attempted to read are NOT very, if a famous person recommends the book,’s better to stay clear from it) and sometimes just something to say “I’ve been to this bookstore and yes I love it so much that I had to buy a book!”.

Books are one of those great comforts in life. I grew up being surrounded by books – my father has a stack of books from his studying times and lots of old ancient malay literature ones as well..I grew up reading classic malay history – the ones that you read about from our high school history lessons, we had them in print at home! My grandfather was a teacher as well with beautiful handwriting (he wrote excellent diaries which we all tried very hard to read) and my mother gave me her old English grammar textbooks from her time at the English Girl School to learn – unfortunately that didn’t go very well because until now, my grammar is just appalling.

Then it came to us three – the funny thing was my siblings and I all had similar reading styles except that my brother (who could and would read anything under the sun..that includes washing machine manuals) who read more fantasy and sci-fiction than us girls. When we all went overseas to study – we all came back with books. My sister being the traveller among us all, always came back with a book from a foreign country that she visited – and she always brought me one that I would just instantly fell in love it. My brother came back from America armoured with Harry Potter (though, he did accidentally left the 4th book in an airport somewhere in LA or NY) – which introduced me to the whole magical world of lining up for books and dressing up as wizards and witches. Of course the amount of books we had at home just keeps on piling. When I told my mom the amount of books I have in Melbourne, she instantly realized that what I’m trying to tell her is to install some floor to ceiling bookcases because my books are just A LOT.

We all learned to write our name in the books that we buy with a date and a place of where we bought it – my mom diligently thought us how to wrap our books – until now, all my textbooks are wrapped nicely. If I’m in a good mood -or trying to procrastinate-will start wrapping my fiction books as well..well, sometimes..haha.

Books? yes, I do have a lot and I’m sure I have more but others have borrowed it and made it their own but if someone were to ask between my shoes/bags/books which one I can’t live without?

It has to be my books.

Medicine for the soul.  – Inscription over the door of the Library at Thebes

Meddie B Avid Reader & Book Collector.

Published in: on January 29, 2011 at 1:11 pm  Comments (5)  

Dream On

I read mainly because I like it – it gives me the perfect opportunity to escape reality (though with an overactive imagination, I can escape reality just by tilting my head to the side..somewhat like JD in “Scrubs”) and I also do loads of reading because I have to – exams, anyone?

Honestly, if it was a good day, great weather, lovely everything..reading a textbook can be less of a chore. Most medical textbooks -if you can believe it- are written by sardonic people..there’s always an element of dry humour and a sarcasm remark here and there – about the art of medicine, the symptoms we see, the way we approach things. Of course things are always funnier when you’re reading it in a hysterical mode (which I always am) – and you are always somewhat hysterical when you find yourself cramming 200 pages in 24 hours ..for a much stressed study group.

Fiction on the other hand..well, if it’s the I-can’t-put-it-down books, you find yourself racing to finish it. If it was so good, you make plans to read it again. Once in a while you find one of those slow simmering ones..the ones that tells you to slow down and live the whole story in your head – and when you do find one of those books, get a non-working day/ a relaxing holiday and pour all over’s worth it. Though, if you’re like me (all work, no play), then make it a daily thing – read a bit from the book everyday and savour everything good, it needs to be savoured.

Happy reading everyone!


Published in: on January 13, 2011 at 8:31 am  Leave a Comment  

Coming soon…

…an introspective view of The Musician’s grueling 2009 & 2010.

This includes, but not limited to, various forms of discrimination, hypocrisy, courage under fire, triumphs, and firsts.

Stay tuned… while I try to migrate my work from my old MacBook (Ben, named after Britten) to my new MacBook Air (Kate, named after Moss… for purely simplistically aesthetic reasons)

Stairway To Heaven*

Dear Proust,

Thank you for making me have inappropriate feelings towards madeleines (cakes, not a person).

She sent for one of those squat plump little cakes called “petites madeleines,” which look as though they had been molded in the fluted valve of a scallop shell … I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure invaded my senses …

And suddenly the memory revealed itself. The taste was that of the little piece of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray … when I went to say good morning to her in her bedroom, my aunt Leonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of tea or tisane …. and the whole of Combray and its surroundings, taking shape and solidity, sprang into being, town and garden alike, from my cup of tea..

Remembrance of Things Past, Volume 1: Swann’s Way.

My friends always try not to look embarrassed when I bite into one of these cakes when eating out (that just sounds so wrong doesn’t it?).

If you are as intrigued or as in love with madeleines like I am and like me,  reading Proust is a Herculean task (truthfully, reading Proust is more enjoyable to the senses than reading William S Burroughs’ Naked Lunch): check out this fantastic article re: how much did Proust know about madeleines?

As my poor throat is only accepting clear liquids and with a somewhat no taste buds, I won’t be eating any madeleines anytime soon 😦


the unwell one with what appears to have a mini scallop-shelled cake fetish.

*I think it’s a rather appropriate title, don’t you?


I just read the whole entry again -that was me writing with several..err…some…err…the prescribed amount of paracetamol and aspirin, imagine my writings if I was on “stronger stuff”? I’d be like Burroughs!- and the whole thing sounds wrong..hahahaha..please get your mind out of the gutter, people!!!

Published in: on December 18, 2010 at 1:17 am  Leave a Comment  

adventures during easter

at long last!!!! i’m back in the blogging scene. to my beautiful friends (musician & fellow med stud), here it is, a massive flood of ‘things-that-happened-lately’…here goes…

 the past 3 weeks has been my easter break. its been amazing. it was a time for reflection, reading, reading, and more reading…..and travelling! a couple of friends and i went to the isle of skye, which is up north of scotland. my first tour-group travel…never did i foresee such fun!!! bubbly americans (i just love ’em), a teacher from poland, friends from south africa, a french couple (un cafe, anyone?), china dudes, and an insaaaane tour guide, these all made up for an unforgettable getaway to the scottish highlands.

there was this time when our tour guide, Doug, stopped the bus next to a red phonebooth, in the middle of nowhere, and was like, “Okay, I wanna see how many people can fit into this phonebooth. The last record was 11, lets see how many we can fit this time!” And then he looked at my friend and I. “You two are DEFINITELY going in.” we had 12 in there…..I was absolutely squished! absolutely mental and hilarious!!! so yeah, we did it!

And he made us climb this mountain, and wow, i actually sun-bathed. really, i did. we chilled at the top and when it was time to leave, Doug challenged us to a highland charge….so there we were (he wanted to film us, so he was down below) all motivated and at the word ‘go’, we went for it! we charged downhill, yes, we literally could not stop even if we wanted to. it was keep-on-running or trip-and-fall.

oh, and i saw, guess who? hamish the highland cow!! it is the cutest, nearly-blond creature ever! he was like peaking through the well-combed hair over his eyes, enjoying the attention.

seriously, it was one wacky trip. the kinda trip we remember with a smile on our faces and itch to tell the world. travelling is the bomb. the travelling bug hasn’t left me yet, though. i wanna go down under one day. i really do.

so back to the real world. third year finals are like in a month and a half. bariah, i cant believe you’re like in 5th year!!! wow, my sincerest salute to you gurl! as for now, life is rosy, spring just brings such hope…:)

 i’ve been reading voraciously lately. life of pi by yann martel is good. the kite runner is absolutely a page turner. works by terry pratchet are engaging. oh, and zadie smith’s white teeth…i’m still half way through. its a little lengthy but writing style is good. i’ve tried newer writers like ali smith, dbc pierre who wrote vernon god little, but i somehow can’t seem to ‘get’ their work. i dont feel this wholesomeness like reading little women, or black beauty, or wuthering heights (remember, we were made to read them in tcs?). i tried the curious incident of the dog in the night time, but i couldn’t finish it, i just couldn’t!

but u know, the more i read, the more i realise i have yet to read thousands of other great titles out there. oh, and, not a good idea when credit card balance is on the rocks….it’s a tempting, sinister place, i tell u.

well, then, i’m trying to savour the last free weekend i have. i’m gonna make me-self a cup of tea. so, till the day i go to australia, here’s a virtual hug from edinburgh!

 long live our blog!!!!

Published in: on April 12, 2007 at 11:45 pm  Leave a Comment  

On Friendship

And a youth said, “Speak to us of Friendship.”

Your friend is your needs answered.

He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.

And he is your board and your fireside.

For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay.”

And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;

For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.

When you part from your friend, you grieve not;

For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.

For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

And let your best be for your friend.

If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.

For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?

Seek him always with hours to live.

For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.

For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

“The Prophet”, Kahlil Gibran.

(One of the most beautiful writings I have ever read – inspiring and touches the hearts of anyone who reads it).

Published in: on August 4, 2006 at 7:35 am  Leave a Comment