Wednesday, December 14, 2011

You Should Date a Girl Who Reads

by Rosemarie Urquico





“You should date a girl who reads.


Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.


Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.


She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.


Buy her another cup of coffee.


Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.


It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.


She has to give it a shot somehow.


Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.


Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.


Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.


If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.


You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.


You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.


Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.


Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”


Picture of Girl Reading Under A Tree (c. 1920s) courtesy of this site.



Wednesday, October 05, 2011

Melbourne, oh Melbourne

Today, I find myself back in Melbourne. It was just shy of two full years ago that I was last here - for Doggy's wedding, for my first visit to Melbourne, for my first time in Australia, ever.

We, my Darling and I, spent 6 whole days in Melbourne, exploring her (well, minus 1.5 days in the suburbs for wedding stuff). It was meant to be summer, but it was a cool summer that year, methinks, because I remember having to bundle up for most of it. Or perhaps it was just the infamous Melbourne weather - "4 seasons in one week!" is feedback I get from pretty much everyone familiar with Melbs.

Anyhoo, on that trip, we landed, checked-in, washed up and immediately commenced our mad touristing. It was with some regretful retrospection that we realized we had covered pretty much all of the Melbourne grid in 3 days, and were left to "shake leg" for the remainder of the trip.

It was, on that note, that I made the dismissive opinion that Melbourne, whilst a vibrant and GORGEOUS city, isn't really one to come to for a holiday, but would be a fantastic place to live in for a bit. I was of the firm opinion that I didn't think I would EVER come back to Melbourne for a holiday. Never. And if I wouldn't be coming for a holiday, then unless I decided to look for work in Melbourne or married a Melburnian, the likelihood of me ever seeing Melbourne again were next to none.

That made me a little sad, for Melbourne is a place of much charm. And awesome food. When I think about Melbourne, the architecture and food immediately come to mind. Flinders St Station. Churros. The GPO. The QV Market. Victoria State Library. Lygon St. *swoon* And to think it would be only just memories, well, made me sad.

As fate would have it, fate whom so fondly loves to throw me a "HAH!" in the face, after a mad flurry of three months with my new employers, found me back in Melbourne; unexpected, and a little bit wild-eyed and in disbelief. As I write this now in the wee hours of the morning from my hotel room in Melbourne itself, I can still scarcely believe I am actually here. The air smells different, so I know we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto.. but. Still.

It's still a little unreal to be here. Managing a project which, if it fails, will mean potential trouble for the company I work for, on a very public and national scale. And since I was put solely responsible for managing the logistics & incidentals, if this fails, the blame will lie squarely on me.

Am I pissing in my pants? Hell, YES.

Can I believe all this is happening, and that I AM IN MELBOURNE *RIGHT* NOW MAKING IT HAPPEN?? Hell, errr.. no?

Tomorrow, I will wake up, I will walk out the front door of the hotel, and I will walk through the streets of the city that, for some reason despite finding it a boring holiday destination, has taken hold of my heart. Then, maybe, I will believe I am in Melbourne.