A few books ago
I like reading books. No, I love reading books. To me, reading is the fastest, easiest, cheapest way to learn and to see something from other’s point of view.
Since 2011, I have a goal that straightly became one of the good habit of mine: once in a month I have to buy 3 books and finish them by the end of the month. And thank God, even though there were times I only read less than target, I mostly reached my goal every month.
I normally read books before I go to bed, and in between my me-time inside my room from time to time. But this year, I have to admit that I gradually read less book than before because life seems to turn me into a person with a tighter schedule with business trips, wedding preparation, moving to a new house, having kid, and so many other things that kept making me read less books, and less, and less, and less. I even hardly realize that I currently read less books before bed.
Few weeks ago, I started to get myself back on track. I wanted to be back to my old habit of reading 3 books in a month. But reality doesn’t make it easier for me. I used to have difficulty to sleep back then, yet I sleep like a baby now that I’m married.
Until one day I remember the story that my friend told me, Ricky Pesik. There was a moment, a not-so-rare moment, where we gathered for a coffee and we talked about how it is so hard to smoke in the house for many reasons, and mainly because we are now husbands and dads. Then he, Ricky Pesik, told me that he had to go to the terrace if he wants to smoke, and he always take one book with him to accompany him smoking.
By then I started to follow his method while my wife was pregnant and now that we have a baby, I couldn’t smoke at home of course. And I have to go outside, on my terrace/front porch, or inside my working room that is separated from our house. I took my time to read books in between my burning cigarettes. And I had finished three books since then: Tunnel, Norwegian Wood, and Startuppedia.
Even though it made me realize that I smoke a lot and I do spent so much time smoking, but it also made me finishing those books and finally finding my old habit back. The number of books I read could also be a reference of how many cigarettes I smoke. But anyway, this post isn’t about smoking, it is about reading books, so I won’t talk about it much right now.
Moral of the story? Precisely like my any other writings: not every story must have a moral notes in it.
Have a good time reading! ☺