I started and finished John Green's Looking For Alaska today, because I was at the café with Hamid and we had decided to skip the optional morning lecture for the first time ever (kiasu asians) and I had finished my homework and didn't have On The Road with me, so I thought I'd start on one of FJ's eBooks. It was a pretty engaging read, which is why I'm up at 2.20am typing about it and haven't started on the writing assignment for tomorrow. Anyway, it left me with one unimportant comment and one thought:
Unimportant comment: Thank you, John Green, for making one of the main characters an Asian! An Asian who's great at rapping and can't do math/programming! !!!!!!
Thought: Why is it that when someone close to us dies, a part of us dies too? When one's page in the novel of life is torn out, our pages tear along with him. Maybe it's because the book also made mention of the Buddhist belief of interconnectedness: as much as we like to believe we are separate entities, our own free person, we are all intricately woven into the fabric of one another. We aren't really free, are we. We tie ourselves to those we love, and we have a responsibility to those to whom we matter.