Andrias Yose

     When I was growing up, I used to be in awe when present in someone’s room with drawers fully-stacked with books. Thick books.

     Talk about drawers fully-stacked with books, my first true joy of reading began back in primary school.

     I don’t remember how it really started, but I just remembered my father used to keep some books away from the children. I remembered picking up an old tiny book that is filled with mostly black and white drawings with Chinese characters. It was actually more like a tiny booklet of comic. ::wink::

     That got me started, somehow or another. With occassional visits to nearby book-rental mini stores. Some of ‘em were real teeney, you know. Got enough space inside just for a person to sit. One such store probably could house only, say… two hundred books. But, those mini-stores were my favourite haunts for martial-arts fiction books. I even dreamed of opening up a book-rental store of my own, too. Back then, that idea seemed cool to me. Real cool.

     Then during my tertiary education in Singapore, bookstores like MPH and Time were my favourite haunts. I also enjoyed the trip to the Brash Basah complex or elsewhere commercial buildings known to have bookstores with many, many books. But, the best place fully-filled with books which I loved most, was the libraries.

     You’ve got the national library, and many community libraries in Singapore. I don’t frequent the national library as often as I would like to, probably because I was lazy to travel the distance, so the nearby community libraries were the next best choice.

     Weeks after weeks, I borrowed many books. But for the life of me, I can never recall the titles, contents, or authors of the books.

     When I was in the University, my favourite spots were in Hayden Library (Arizona State U.) and the Music building.

     The first memory of my first visit to the Haydn Library was … more like lost and forgotten. But, I remembered the feeling.

     I felt overwhelmed, … and, spooked.

     I don’t know whether all libraries gave you a feeling of being overwhelmed. Thousands upon thousands of books from every single angle that your eyes stretched upon.

     Altho’ Haydn wasn’t the first library that I have set my feet on, it was the largest I have ever been to.

     It was also during my University years that I picked up a more regular habit of purchasing books, to be read during my leisure time.

     Today, I can claim with a certain confidence that those books I read outside of classrooms’ curriculum taught much more than all the teachings that teachers in the schools put together. Yet combined…, now, that’s something else.

     Come November, I’ll turn thirty-one. How many pieces of writings have I read in my lifetime?

     Not that it matters for me, but sometimes this silly little question matters to others.

     I don’t really remember when I began to be forgetful. But I know that there were two things that contributed to my habit of forgetting things.

     Somewhere in 1992, one type of writings which I enjoyed reading and which I seek with a certain fervor was anecdotes. Anecdotes are what you can call snapshots of some interesting events.

     Anecdotes tend to be light but deep, simple but imbued with certain wisdoms.

     In one such anecdotes which I enjoyed reading, I chanced upon a Zen anecdote. Can’t remember the who, what, when, how, and why, ‘coz all I remember is that after you read stuffs, you learn stuffs, and you forget what you read. Let just the essence flow in you and through you. That’s the best explanation I can give you now. ::chuckle::

     Then in 2004, after my brother passed away, some stuffs stored in my memory began to fade. Blurred, disappeared.

     I guess it’s just a psychological and emotional things which catalyzed my current state of forgetting things. But, overall, my head often feels light. And that’s a good thing. A real good thing.

     Hand me a pillow, and I will slumber in flash to the la-la-land in a matter of minutes.

     I don’t have problems sleeping. But I’ve got a problem sleeping regularly just like a normal person. I also got a problem being awaked, ‘coz I made myself real tired before I really rest myself. Ain’t good things either way, I feel.

     While awoke, I occassionally talked to myself, telling myself that I really need a real long and good rest. Come today, I question that thought for the first time. Have I truly recover fully from the trauma of natures that involve my feeling and my mind?

     The answer is, I have recovered. And the real statement is, I have become a tad complacent.

     Short is, this is it. Let’s begin afresh again, shall I? Time ain’t gonna wait for no one. :: smile::