Bookworm

I think at my truest form of self, I am a bookworm. When I was a kid, my mom would take us to the public library every two weeks and I would pick out 20-30 books to check out. And even though that was officially over the limit, the librarians would make an exception because I was a regular, and I really did read all those books. Admittedly, they weren't exactly intellectually stimulating choices - Amelia Bedelia, Ramona, Babysitter's Club, Sleepover Friends and gradually on to racier stuff such as Sweet Valley High, Nancy Drew, VC Andrews. Not exactly the stuff of literary scholars. But early on, I developed an intense love for reading. I would read with a flashlight under the covers or in my closet after my parents thought I was asleep. I would read in the car even though my mom would always tell me it was bad for my eyes. I would prop up my math book during class and hide a book behind it, completely absorbed until my teacher would come up and pull my math book down and take the book I was reading behind it away from me (at parent-teacher sessions, my teachers wouldn't tell my parents I had disciplinary issues or that I bullied other kids, or was bullied by other kids, they would tell my parents I needed to stop reading books during class and pay more attention).

The problem is, reading to me is a little bit like crack to a crack addict. Once I get absorbed in a story, I cannot put it down until I'm done with the last page, wishing there were still more pages to read, wondering what became of the characters whose lives I had been so absorbed in. In law school, I started reading Middlesex one day and didn't go to class or change out of my PJs or leave my apartment for two days. Same for The DaVinci Code. After reading Brick Lane, I actually flew to London the following weekend to see the real Brick Lane, as if I would actually run into the fictional characters from the book if I was there. I read the entire Twilight series in a matter of about a week and afterwards thought for a couple days that really, vampires might exist. And how wonderful to be loved by a vampire and a werewolf. Once in Cancun I was so absorbed in The Time Traveler's Wife (my first time reading it) that I barely looked up or talked to my friends who had gathered from SF to NY for our annual "spring break" trip until I was done with the book, after which I declared to them: "Guys, don't ever marry a time traveler, it's too sad."

So my newfound obsession with my kindle has been all-absorbing since El Hombre left. He's been gone exactly 2.5 days and I've read exactly 2.5 books in that time. I stay awake until the wee hours of the morning, until I am so tired that I can't keep my eyes open. I turn down going out to lunch or dinner so I can shut my office door and read my books in peace. I keep my office door closed so I can read and jump out of my chair in surprise when someone knocks to talk about a project. I even cut my Japanese lesson short today because I was in the middle of a very intriguing part of the book I was reading (This is where I leave you by Jonathan Tropper) and couldn't concentrate on kanji when all I wanted to do was find out what happened next in the life of a 35-year old Jewish man whose wife left him for his boss, father just passed away and had to sit shiva for 7 days with his superbly dysfunctional family. So it's a good thing that I have just one more day of work until I head to the warm beaches of Bali for an entire week, where I can surf for a few hours and read on the beach for the rest of the day. I've downloaded 6 books: The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver, In the Kitchen by Monica Ali, Last Night in a Twisted River by John Irving, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Sarah's Key and the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

Warm water, water sports, soft sand beaches, Southeast Asian food, piles of books (in a compact electronic contraption)...