I like reading books (that’s an understatement LOL) and one of my favorite authors is David Eddings (genre: fantasy) and I like rereading his books every now and then, usually at least once a year – I tend to read most, if not all, of my books at least once a year. Anyway, I was reading the second part of Belgarion’s story. The first one was a five-book series jointly called The Belgariad and his second five-book story is entitled The Mallorean and I’m in the fifth book of the second part of his story.

It’s so weird. I obviously know the end since I’ve read it countless times, I could probably quote my favorite passages; I could probably give a breakdown of each of the character’s stories, salient points in their lives, and personalities; and yet, I deliberately set down my book right before the climax. The moment when the good guy (Child of Light) meets the bad guy (Child of Dark) in the Place That Is No More for final meeting of the two clashing destinies.

Why? For no particular reason than to delay the inevitable, and, in prolonging that moment, to better savor it.

Isn’t that weird? Am I the only one like that or are there othes like me? People who just, for no real reason whatsoever other than to prolong one’s enjoyment, stop reading a story that has been read again and again and again. Just to delay it. Just because I don’t want to read what’s next (and why should I since I know it ends happily anyway?), what I know will happen, and how I know these characters will end up. Just because I want to spend time with them for just a little while longer. I don’t even have to reread the book again (ain’t that redundant?) to stay with the characters but, rather like times you spend with your family or friends, where you’re not really doing anything, not even bonding or talking or anything, just hanging out and it’s enough – it’s kinda like that. Granted, after all this, I’ll be rereading the “prequels” Belgarath The Sorcerer and Polgara The Sorcereress, but that’s different. That’s a biography (or autobio? I never remember the distinction; basta, Pol and Belgarath wrote – and I use that word loosely – their life stories) of the Eternal Man and his Beloved Daughter, where we’ll know the backstory (VERY backstory) of all the characters and events and reasons behind the things and people in The Belgariad and The Mallorean, as well as get to know Belgarath and Polgara even more (I like Belgarath more since Polgara sometimes has this slight arrogance and overconfidence; also Belgarath carries everything he does with more elan). Anyway, it’s a really nice read and I love it too, but its different from Belgarion’s story.

I’m sometimes like that, not just with the world of Belgarion and Belgarath, not just with David Eddings’ books, but also with others. Wherein I just like to stop, regardless of how much I feel like reading, because I like savoring it, them, and everything else about the book. I guess I really am a bookworm, heheh.

This brings to mind something that my friends (group 9 girls!) and I were talking about a while ago. Well, not really talking. But in the middle of our laboratory discussion (no, we weren’t – definitely weren’t! – talking about anything school-related), I suddenly popped out the question, “What would you do if your life were videotaped, as in every second? Would you rewatch it? And if you did, what parts would you continue to watch again and again?”

Lady was the only one who answered me, saying that she probably wouldn’t want to watch any of it. And I agree with her too, since, after all, life isn't really something wherein you can hit the play, pause, rewind, fastforward, and skip buttons.

But in my case, taking into account my bookworm-ish-ness… what if it wasn’t a videotape? What if it was a book? I wonder how my life would read. Memoirs Of A Geisha was very beautiful and is a noted best seller, yet when you read it, it’s nothing really more than a story of a simple girl caught up in life. Aren’t we all? Yet I can’t honestly say that I think my life’s story ever going to make it to the best-seller list, or rather , if anyone will be willing enough to read, must less write, it. I mean, sure, wouldn’t we all want to be immortalized in one way or anothers, books just being one avenue? But that's not really possible except for a select few (and how I hope I could one day be one of them).

Back to Memoirs, the root of it is simply just a love story. Would my life be like that too? I mean, of course I’d want it to, really, since I’d want to fall in love and be with The One or Mr Right or whatever you wanna call him. Yet unlike Sayori, who was in love with The Chairman from the beginning and basically lived her life hoping to be with him, my life isn’t just with one guy. Maybe things’ll be less complicated that way, but heck, it’s a lot less fun ::saucy wink:: hee! There’s a quote “to have loved and lost is better than never loving at all” and I think I’ve personified that. I’ve loved and lost. More than once. And yes, it is better (though I'd sometimes beg to differ). Through the hurt and pain, there’s profound joy and happiness and, more importantly, a sense of completeness that only love and being with your loved one can bring.

If my life were a book, or a movie… would I read it again and again? I can’t honestly say I know the answer to that question. But maybe I would. Then again, I used to write diaries when I was around 9 until I was about 14 and the last time I reread them was about… 16 or 17 or 18. What more pa kaya kung life story ko na yon? LOL perhaps at certain landmarks in my life, I’d like to go back and reflect upon the events that have happened to me. But I kinda do that often – usually birthdays and New Years. Sort of, an internal check-list to see if I’m growing up to be the person I want to be and if I would still call myself as “ok”.

When all is said and done… sometimes I’m glad that life isn’t a book, that (forgive my abuse of a much-used analogy) tis a passing smooth yet oft gurgling river that flows hither and yon (sorry, Mimbrate influence – just read DE to understand that…), securing paths that seem easiest to travel and yet never shying from obstacles so I can get to where I’m going; flowing and never stopping, hesitating yet never really relenting; passing through places sometimes in a gush and sometimes in a smooth flow, but never staying and always leaving my mark on the place just as the place is leaving a mark on me. (naks!)

And yet occassionally, deep down – where I hide my insecurities and fears alongside my hopes and dreams – I do wish that my life was a book. At least then I’d know that, at the end, things'll turn out okay.

Ironically, while I’m here wishing my life resembled a book or a movie, books and movies are written to depict real (more or less) life.

I sit here, in front of the computer monitor, in a white monoblock chair, in the library of our home, with my family sleeping and I realize: I know I worry often about the future – especially now that I’m a few years from graduating and all my friend seem to know what to do and where to go to obtain their dreams while I feel like I’m drifting, just trying to find a foothold for my future – but when all is said and done, is not the journey more important than where you end up? I read a quote when I was in high school that said something like it doesn’t matter where you go in life, rather it matters more who stands with you at the end. Put in that perspective… maybe I’m not rich (now, but I wanna be! LOL), maybe I’m not as successful as I want to be (as a student since that’s what I still am… and I hope that changes in later years and when I become a doctor), maybe I’m like first season girls of Friends who don’t even have a “pl” (for “plan”)… but I’ve got a wonderful family and a great set of friends; trials that have strengthened me and joys that have empowered me. And, really, what more can a girl ask for?