My name is you-know-what, and I am a book-buying addict.
Last night, after getting home a little before 2 a.m. thanks to my snail-style work pace, I ‘relaxed’ by getting on bookdepository.co.uk and blowing my recently set book budget for the month. Halfway into the month, I’ve spent twice my budget. I realised I have a problem because:
1. I didn’t get no satisfaction. I definitely felt a ping of despair when I clicked the checkout button.
2. The night before, I’d committed to only buying more books when I’d read at least 60% of what I have on my shelves — thanks to stern advice from EC & TK — already excluding reference books and blithely ignoring what are on my sagging shelves in Singapore. I am in fact less than halfway to meeting that target.
Two possible seeds for this addiction, growing into sapping saplings slowly entwining to form this monstrous me:
1. Delayed satisfaction has never felt sweeter for me than instant gratification. Not necessarily because the latter feels better, just that the former never tastes that great anyway. Perhaps it’s my short attention span.
2. I do enjoy reading, but the delight vs dismay ratio took a marked turn for the worse when I began working. Being able to afford many more books while not having time to devour them is the most exquisite sort of torture, assuaged only by the caresses one can indulge in at the bookstore, and on the way home. My pretty-awesome-if-I-may-say-so-myself shelving system got torn to shreds. My crazy craze with Twilight was what relit the fire again — burned me up something nasty with the fire and fierceness that descends when you devour a book. That’s pretty crazy. Though not unwelcome.
OK. So anyway, no point looking beyond where the blame should lie — squarely on my shoulders. Admitting to this should be the first step in the long process of recovery and attaining balance. I don’t find it my heart to refrain from buying in books in an actual bookstore, rather than bookdepository.co.uk, though, so temptation will still abound when I stroll in the streets. Good thing the better bookstores in HK do not lie along the well-worn paths betwixt work and rest. But I must reject temptation; I don’t have to give in. I need no longer be a slave to sin.