Okay, I have a dirty little confession to make.
I, a librarian, have not picked up a book in at least 8 months and sat down and read it. Even after my post in early May bemoaning this fact.
Crazy, I know. Life just seems to get in the way sometimes. My favorite is when people hear I am a librarian and the first thing they say is Cool! You must get so much reading done! If you count reading over emails and proofreading notes for the library resources class I am about to teach, then yes I do a lot of reading.
It didn’t always used to be this way. I asked friends what they thought I should read, and ended up with great reviews for writers like Haruki Murakami (Japanese) or Paul Auster (New York) or Hermann Hesse (German). Works in English, of course. I’ve read everything the local library had to offer.
But I was starting to feel the itch to read again – partially because other hobbies were creeping up on the “annoyance” list enough for me to notice that I was, well, getting annoyed with them. A little variety is the spice of life. So as I mentioned, I checked out My ‘Dam Life. I told someone the title last night and they just laughed.
When I first picked up the book at the library, I decided to sit down there (again, relaxation time away from other hobbies) and read the first 20 pages or so. It was pretty good – better than the Amazon reviews made it out to be. Except for the oh-so-unfortunate plastic cover on this particular copy. Turns the page – rustlerustlerustle. Keep reading. Turns the page. Rustlerustlerustle. Quick guilty glance at my surroundings. Please don’t throw me out. I’ll go…
There are some things I can relate to, without even being a resident yet. I was glad to see that someone else calls New Year’s Eve a war zone: “It’s like being in a war-zone with nobody panicking about anything.” I did think I had stumbled on to a war zone, with all the bomb-like fireworks being shot off, and couches set on fire. But the craziness of it all just made me want more, more, more… as long as I could grip Marco’s arm tightly as needed of course.
Or avoiding getting run over by trams: “The very basic braking system seems to consist of a concrete-block anchor and is only employed in the most dire of circumstances, such as for a group of old women in wheelchairs carrying boxes of kittens across the road. And even then, the look of undiluted hatred that kitten-carrying old ladies would receive from the tram driver would make them wish they were dead anyway. So always carry a box of kittens when strolling around Amsterdam and, if possible, try to be old. And a lady.”
The only thing that unnerves me a bit is the rather frank talk about dropping everything to move to a country and finding out that neither you nor your wife will have the income you thought you would have, until you have less than 500 euros between you. That won’t be my situation of course, but leaving an assured full time job (where you have spent nearly the last 3 years proving your irreplaceable worth so that they say they will cry when you leave) for jobless uncertainty is slightly unnerving. Slightly.
Then again, what’s life without a little adventure?