Ummaaa… I haven’t been the most social and engaging for the past months. It’s either swamping my sorry self for the OBG seminar, staying up overnight for the ridiculous advance theories of communication class, Quantitative Research Methods class, Media Ethics etc. Or chugging old and new fics from good ole faithful FFnet.
I finally realize that reading the hand book from our lecturer are for douchebag, but I just can’t stop trying to finish this stupid book on popular cultures and media. I did told you how my brain was completely fried after reading one chapter from this book, right? Then my media ethics lecturer throw us a fotocopy worth of Rp 10.000,00. I swear I can sleep on that book and have nightmare for the whole night.
But the thing that breaks my heart the most was, all of them are in English.
Don’t get me wrong, I love English and England and all those blue-white-red crosses. Oh god -scratch- that, I ADORE them. If there’s any place I want to be is to be back in London and probably working at British National Library with Ms. Gallop, working on some news paper or whatever.
The heart break was from the amount of high level, far fetched, vocabulary, wordings, sentence proportion and all the passive adjective that made my focus waver on the second line of a paragraph. These book are mean. A sentence could string into a whole paragraph that consist of 8 lines. How the hell am I supposed to figure what the author was trying to say?
Reading in snippets is out of the window, the books are just too complex and elaborate and gaaah!!damnit. I even ran out of words trying to explain this exploding feeling inside of me.
Perhaps, maybe I spent too much time reading non-real literature works. Meh, I can’t spent a day without checking FFnet, and my bookshelf are rather boring at the time.
I don’t have hearts to continue reading ‘Catcher in the Rye’
I don’t have enough patience to continue ‘Shantaram’
I don’t have enough guts and faith to continue reading ‘Let the Great World Spin’
I’ve finished the complete works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes a long time ago.
I can’t read ‘Norwegian Woods’ without risking my head to combust, again.
My ‘To Catch a Mocking Bird’ is still with a good friend of mine, hmm.. better check it’s stats.
How to reach that tiny little dot at the very end of a book without mentally harming your self? Its either I read too much or too seriously…