Flash report

When I first landed on this job, I had this delusion that at some point they would be buying time for me to read books. (The job description, by the way, didn't include any form of it being a "book review" type of a position. I don't know what's gotten into me to think of that.) This is my second job, and my first real one--real since it involves writing, and I'd like to make a career out of it. Though the job was lax at first, but now that I'm well into my 7th month I've been staying later than 8PM doing research, statistics of Facebook pages.

I'm not complaining. Believe me, I love doing my job. It's just that I'm still learning how to squeeze in my reading time with my job, my commutes and my family life. (Provided that I become successful with the juggling, I'd take the risk and jog at 4AM, which leaves me only four hours of sleep.) Though reading during commutes has given me frequent headaches and a feeling of living in another reality, it's the only way I can make use of my spare time wisely--amid the dim lights and the unpaved roads in Manila which makes the words jump off the page.

This makes me proud to have finished One Hundred Years of Solitude last Friday: almost three-fourths of it I've read in the bus. The prose has this quality where it could warp you back in time (or hurl you to the future), which gives me the idea that maybe it is where we should read the book: clutching the book in transit, bus tickets as bookmarks, blurred car lights passing by the windows (and the occasional snore from a passenger three seats away, or the aural soundtrack of Explosions in the Sky in last month's VIDEO ON BOARD: Lone Survivor).

On the other hand, I'm in the first few chapters of Madame Bovary and I couldn't stand the boredom reading it during commutes. It needs tea and a slice of pound cake on a Saturday afternoon.