Reading in a moving car was always the start of a motion sickness episode for me. While my friends believed in last minute revisions before exam, I had no choice but to tune-in to the radio and dance my way to school. I cringe every time I’d buy magazines from Sunday Bazaar that will be flipped and browsed and read before me! Or early morning beach trips we used to make and Abbu would read the akhbaar – first! Sigh — And the drama that would ensue. Pissy-Edgy-Vomity: even looking at someone else read it up while on the move! At least I used to! :)
Recently got hold of the rare end of my Mr. Motion Sickness driving me sick and kicked its arse into orbit! Don’t really know what triggered me to almost – cure – this habit but whatever it may be – feels great to step out of the familiar and right into the unknown.
So-far: I am now on my third book that have all been read on my way to work and on my way back home! Woohoo!
The Writing on My Forehead: A Novel, by Nafisa Haji
The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga
Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin
Bring on the books and the fine-print! And a bus-car-van-truck, to-go! ;)
So profound I have to write it down, send it to the universe and get over it, so I can stop this internal dialogue for a second. Is there such a thing as temporarily profound? I hope. I don’t want to have this conversation with myself anymore, to be honest.
I win a 2 year hell stone on the 15th. I forget to go home from work on 9/11. And other such useless details that one can choke and gag on. And. I’m taking a long ride with limca in hand tonight.