As all the work stuff relating to new ventures and new plans are settling and I have found a routine that accomodates all these things I’m taking on now, I have gone back to my reading. I’ve left it for a bit because of all the excitement and the busy-ness. Stress has also sort of started creeping in and I need my usual escape. I have finally finished my James Herriot book The Lord God Made Them All. Herriot is always my go-to, comfort guy for all occasions. He makes me laugh. He made me laugh so much my seatmate on the Supercat going home from Cebu last Sunday kept glancing at me (probably checking if I had a screw lose). I just love Herriot. He has this humbling effect and a way of putting things into a perspective, mainly comedic, but he also sets value on hardwork, although routinary life. It’s not so bad, a life of routine, if only you have the best way of looking at things. And sometimes it’s how you look at things that matters and not what you do.
I find that everyday for the past six weeks takes me North or South for one thing or another. I’ve been traveling and apparently it’s really not as glamourous as it is made out to be. Of course it’s only around the general vicinity of the Leyte province, but if a couple of hours’ drive back and forth everyday is tiresome, imagine if it involves planes and boats and such. No, that’s not the life for me. My body is meant for the home and the travel has to be kept to a minimum. But for now, go where I need to be I must because it’s part of my work now. The thing about rides, though, is that it forces you to read. And one can only do so much work-related readings, so here is me and my friend on the van going home from her mother’s home about five hours’ ride from our home and her book (the Gaiman) and my book (the Martin) in between us. The travel is so very long that we can read, nap, read, nap, read, nap for as long as we like. That place needs an airport!
I’m enjoying A Storm of Swords again. I was so shocked (and almost pissed, really) with The Red Wedding. That was just so unexpected. And shocking. I hated the book then and I thought the whole series was stupid. But it’s been weeks and weeks and the shock has worn off and I am back to my usual enjoyment of the book. My reading average has dropped and it’s sad, but then it’s balanced with more actual work done so I guess that’s good. Living and reading is good as opposed to just reading and living through characters and books. But I still love it, being Elizabeth Bennet or Countess Olenska and all those wondrous characters: they are persons I will never otherwise be except by reading about them. Part of who I am are the books I have read. Not reading enough is a starvation I cannot endure. I may momentarily stop but I will always go back with a vengeance. I will always be the girl that reads. And I am glad that I have this site to help me chronicle my readings as often or as little as possible.