somewhat sille, that's me!

I was halfway through a book when I happened to flip to its dedication page. And when I saw this name, some memories came back instantly, like how I was at the Big Bad Wolf sale last year and this book was in my shortlisted stack of "to buy or not to buy". I had a budget you see, and I was unfamiliar with the author though later I would come to know via wiki that he was one of America's most prolific 20th century writers.

I had read the blurb and quite liked the premise of this book -- Edgar Wallace's The Feathered Serpent is a mystery novel, one of my fav genres -- but I couldn't decide. Then I saw her name and without another moment of hesitation, the book went to the "to buy" stack.

And who is she? Again, it turned out she was the author of another book on a list 100 must-read literature, as wiki would tell me. Anyways so, a couple of years back, when BookXcess was in its infancy, i picked up Daphne du Maurier's The Scapegoat at random, and I really liked it.

However, that few days ago when I saw her name, I immediately felt a tinge of sadness.. because I couldn't remember what I had liked about the book which I've claimed to have liked. Projecting that thought to other areas, I was reminded me that I have forgotten many things but have no idea what they are. Events and details from the past are like a blur or completely missing, like certain immigration reports *cough. I have no doubts that I have forgotten a great deal of my life, and it makes me feel somewhat.. incomplete. This feeling plain rattles me.

You know that is why I blog right, even though it makes for a real poor documentation cos of my inconsistent and imbalance entries. Heh. I blog so that I wouldn't lose more of me than I already have. These words might not seem like much, maybe downright insufficient and vague sometimes, but there are a tangible part of me.. and sometimes I feel vulnerable having people reading them and making conclusion of who I am. (And yet I make them public. That's paradox for you :) That said, whatever's written here are painfully put together, selected for your reading.. and for forming of a good impression of me :D

I was chatting to a friend recently, and it's since a long time since we last did.. around the time the ink dried on du Maurier's or Wallace's manuscripts I think. And if I thought my memory recall is bad, it was practically retrograde amnesia with her. Heh. Maybe it was her way of coping with issues or that is how she's made, but I wondered if she felt the same sadness sometimes.

So yeah.. just one line in that one book and all these emotions and thoughts and memories.. Heh.