Last Friday, I went out to buy new running shoes. The reason I needed new running shoes warrants a post of its own, so I’ll leave that for another time. Anyway, as I was already out, I figured I’d stop by at the Lifeline Bookfest. I’d gone the week-end before with a friend, but hadn’t found anything I wanted, so I left empty-handed. This was kind of to make up for that, and I was sure I’d find something.
After much wandering, I found a Russian for Dummies book, which will hopefully be a good introduction to Russian whenever I decide I’m finished with learning Persian and want to move on to Russian; and I also found a decent copy of The Hobbit, which I bought because I’ve been wanting to re-read the Lord of the Rings trilogy for ages, and had started Fellowship of the Ring earlier this year, but stopped after a few pages because I thought I really should re-read The Hobbit first. Continue reading
The week-end before last, I finished reading Love in the Time of Cholera (by Gabriel Garcia Marquez) on a flight home from interstate. I finished reading it about half an hour before we were due to descend, and I spent this time staring out the window (I always choose a window seat if I can), reflecting on the events and characters of the novel, and also contemplating any parallels with my own life.
One of the principal characters, Florentino Ariza, is what most would call a hopeless romantic. At one or two points in the novel, his mother proclaims that the only ailment he ever truly suffered was love. Indeed, he is lovesick to the highest degree, as he waits over half a century for the woman he loves, even after she rejected him and married another man. Continue reading
I learnt to touch-type sometime around Grade five. The vast majority of my writing is on the computer, but I still like handwriting things sometimes. In fact, there are times when I actually crave it, and I feel a need to pick up a pen and just write something.
Kids these days, I believe, are probably learning to type at a younger age. It is essential, surely (maybe not at that age, but in their lives it will be an essential skill) but so is good handwriting. I’ll not be the first to lament the declining value placed on handwriting – I’m sure I’ve read and heard plenty of people reflect on this subject before – so, instead, let’s celebrate what handwriting there is to celebrate.
Just a quick post to kind of balance out the long posts I’ve been writing lately. I generally don’t set out to write really long posts, but I also generally don’t plan my posts very thoroughly, so they just end up long because I didn’t realise how much I actually had to say about something.
I don’t really have anything in particular that I wanted to write about today, but I just really felt like writing something. I suppose you could say that writing is kind of therapeutic for me. I might not be stressed out to begin with, but I know I’ll feel better after writing (in the same sense that I feel better after reading, eating, or going for a run; a bit of music doesn’t go astray either).
Recently I’ve felt like writing letters. As much as I like writing entries for this blog, I’ve been feeling like I’d really like to write letters to people. Nice letters, of course. The only problem is that letter-writing doesn’t seem to be regarded by my generation as very socially acceptable (and in case it hasn’t registered, I’m talking about handwritten letters).
Yes, ok, I’m sure there are some sentimentalists out there who are both Gen Y and like handwritten correspondence (and some of these might even be people I know!) but it’s not the sort of thing people just casually ask one another… “Hi, can I write you a letter?”