Hello! My name is Chie. I am likely to be the girl you'll see whose eyes would bulge out of their sockets at the sight of a book store and be seized by waves of epileptic shock whenever there is a book bargain. I'll probably be the one pushing you out of my way to get through the book bargain bins and tediously combing through the pile. (I forget my manners when it comes to books). I am tone deaf and have two left feet. But I would endure the embarrassment of a performance in exchange for books (terms and conditions apply). I have created this blog in order to find kindred souls. Those who would gladly share the same passion for books and reading because although reading is solitary task most of the time, it's no fun having no one to ramble to after..
Personal Thoughts: This was originally posted on my Facebook Account last July 31, 2011.
I was nearly late to the ending of my childhood. Just seen Harry Potter the other day.
I'd only gotten home at two in the morning, and the end was to begin at 9:30 in the morning. And because the world is conspiring against me on that morning in particular, my bus with the petrol fumes spilling out the back into the crisp morning air, pulled up around ten minutes late.
Still, I made it there on time -- well, only a minute or two late -- for the end. Even if I did have to run down, and take a short cut through the stations beneath the city streets, it was all worth it to get there on time.
Later, my friend told me that if I'd come the first day of showing, I'd have experienced the best part. The way the boys and girls, eighteen, nineteen, twenty and dressed in preppy school uniforms with a crest featuring a familiar badger, snake, eagle, and lion all surrounding a large letter H, greeted each other by saying "Hello, fellow wizards".
Me, I think this kind of nerdiness is awesome. I think in my childhood, I would have found it more awesome. I am sad I missed it, but at least I was there, stumbling up the cinema steps into the hushed, darkened theatre before the movie began.
I want to say that I loved the movie. That I loved every last minute of my childhood's ending, but the truth is that sometimes my friend was distracted by my melodramatic laughter, or tears, the way I accidentally knocked an entire tub of popcorn into the aisle by jumping at one point. And my 2:00am bedtime the night before meant that sometimes my attention was divided between The Dark Lord vs Harry Potter vs my sleepiness, or the chill of the cinema.
Still it was amazing. I no longer want to experience a transformation like Cinderella. I want to experience a transformation like a female version of Neville Longbottom. Old Draco was a laugh. Albus Severus Potter sniffed every ten seconds and was adorable and Severus Snape made me tear up behind my 3D glasses.
I wished that it wouldn't end, but it did. My childhood slowly died. It only took a few hours and by the end of it, I felt grown up. More grown up than I did after my eighteenth birthday. More grown up, even, than when I go out and don't get asked for ID.
Afterwards, we hung around the cinema, staring at the posters of characters who'd become our childhood friends. We milled around in the shabby exhibition in the cinema had put together, marveling over bits and bobs of paper from the films of the set. The stupidest things, really, apart from this gorgeous dress of Luna Lovegood's, but there was a sense that you had to marvel. You had to be awed, because this was the end.
And then we left the scene of the crime, the place where our childhoods died, and we went and got a late lunch. At an almost respectable establishment that didn't serve hamburgers or french fries or pizza or anything like that. And then we went to a café and I ordered two long blacks, because God I was still tired from the night before. And the barista looked at me like I was crazy because how many people like me like their coffee that strong with no sugar?
But my childhood had just died. I wasn't in the mood to justify anything.
Much later that day, when I got home, I searched for my ticket. The one with Cinema 3, and that fantastic title, Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows, emblazoned upon it, I dumped the entire contents of my wallet and bag out onto my desk, turning over odd stuffs that I didn't know I had in the process, but it wasn't there. The ticket was gone. My childhood was gone.
Personal Thoughts: This was originally posted on my Facebook Account last July 31, 2011.
I was nearly late to the ending of my childhood. Just seen Harry Potter the other day.
I'd only gotten home at two in the morning, and the end was to begin at 9:30 in the morning. And because the world is conspiring against me on that morning in particular, my bus with the petrol fumes spilling out the back into the crisp morning air, pulled up around ten minutes late.
Still, I made it there on time -- well, only a minute or two late -- for the end. Even if I did have to run down, and take a short cut through the stations beneath the city streets, it was all worth it to get there on time.
Later, my friend told me that if I'd come the first day of showing, I'd have experienced the best part. The way the boys and girls, eighteen, nineteen, twenty and dressed in preppy school uniforms with a crest featuring a familiar badger, snake, eagle, and lion all surrounding a large letter H, greeted each other by saying "Hello, fellow wizards".
Me, I think this kind of nerdiness is awesome. I think in my childhood, I would have found it more awesome. I am sad I missed it, but at least I was there, stumbling up the cinema steps into the hushed, darkened theatre before the movie began.
I want to say that I loved the movie. That I loved every last minute of my childhood's ending, but the truth is that sometimes my friend was distracted by my melodramatic laughter, or tears, the way I accidentally knocked an entire tub of popcorn into the aisle by jumping at one point. And my 2:00am bedtime the night before meant that sometimes my attention was divided between The Dark Lord vs Harry Potter vs my sleepiness, or the chill of the cinema.
Still it was amazing. I no longer want to experience a transformation like Cinderella. I want to experience a transformation like a female version of Neville Longbottom. Old Draco was a laugh. Albus Severus Potter sniffed every ten seconds and was adorable and Severus Snape made me tear up behind my 3D glasses.
I wished that it wouldn't end, but it did. My childhood slowly died. It only took a few hours and by the end of it, I felt grown up. More grown up than I did after my eighteenth birthday. More grown up, even, than when I go out and don't get asked for ID.
Afterwards, we hung around the cinema, staring at the posters of characters who'd become our childhood friends. We milled around in the shabby exhibition in the cinema had put together, marveling over bits and bobs of paper from the films of the set. The stupidest things, really, apart from this gorgeous dress of Luna Lovegood's, but there was a sense that you had to marvel. You had to be awed, because this was the end.
And then we left the scene of the crime, the place where our childhoods died, and we went and got a late lunch. At an almost respectable establishment that didn't serve hamburgers or french fries or pizza or anything like that. And then we went to a café and I ordered two long blacks, because God I was still tired from the night before. And the barista looked at me like I was crazy because how many people like me like their coffee that strong with no sugar?
But my childhood had just died. I wasn't in the mood to justify anything.
Much later that day, when I got home, I searched for my ticket. The one with Cinema 3, and that fantastic title, Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows, emblazoned upon it, I dumped the entire contents of my wallet and bag out onto my desk, turning over odd stuffs that I didn't know I had in the process, but it wasn't there. The ticket was gone. My childhood was gone.
