I can always find someone

To say they sympathize

If I wear my heart out on my sleeve

But I don't want some pretty face

To tell me pretty lies

All I want is someone to believe

Honesty is such a lonely word

Everyone is so untrue

Honesty is hardly ever heard

And mostly what I need from you

- Honesty by Billy Joel

Staycation at Changi Village

I mentioned in the previous post (that I wrote in a less candid style) that my family and I were on a staycation for the Christmas hols before Mom got admitted into the hospital. We were staying at the Village Changi Hotel for 3 days 2 nights for some quality family time, and to my great satisfaction I got to take plenty of pictures (kinda like striking off that resolution about going out to take pictures off that resolution list).

My sister Stacey and I headed to the hotel first ourselves on Tuesday since Dad and Mom were still working and could only join us at night that day. It was a beautiful hotel, but sadly I didn't take a picture of the room which was really cosy. Exhausted from taking the public transport all the way to Changi from our humble northwestern abode in Yew Tee, we just lounged on our beds watching The Lone Ranger on the television after checking into the two hotel rooms Stacey booked. When evening came, my sister suggested going down to walk, and she wanted to take me to where we could see the planes landing at the airport base.

Changi Village could be a kingdom of cats, because they were EVERYWHERE. It was like a sanctuary for them because unlike neighborhood cats you see these days that run at the sight of you, these cats seem really comfortable with people around. Just like how cat videos make people happy, I felt so pleased seeing so many cats around the area.

It was getting dark and the images were getting fuzzy, as you can see. If only you could see what I saw, because my photos (taken from my trusty iPhone) did not do justice to the great scenery I saw.

Dad and Mom met us at the Changi Village Hawker Centre after our walk and we had dinner together. The food there was amazing.

The next morning, we decided to abort the initial plan of going to Pulau Ubin since Mom was feeling poorly. We decided to head up to the roof of the hotel before going for breakfast and deciding our plans for the day.

After breakfast we decided to head to Changi Chapel Museum. I only got the photo of the entrance since no photography or videography was allowed inside. It stored artifacts from the WWII, and recounts from the prisoners of war and survivors. The funny thing was when I looked into the museum guestbook, a lot of tourists wrote "very sad" in the comments section. 

After the visit to the museum, we drove to Changi City Point for lunch and some shopping...window shopping really because we didn't buy anything save my sister who went and got a hair cut. The rest of the staycation was pretty much covered in the previous post, and hence our staycation ended on a pretty hasty note as we checked out in the wee hours of Christmas morning the next day, heading for the hospital.

I joked that Mom checked out of one place only to check into another. I feel quite worried for my Mom, who's now warded in SGH till next week. I'm sure she really wants to come back home with us. It must be awfully lonely to be spending your time in the ward with nurses fussing over you and the slightly putrid smell of sickness and sanitizer in the air. We left at 8 pm after giving Mom a hug, and she sighed about how lonely she'd be after we leave. I'm going to visit her again tomorrow evening with Dad, and I pray she feels much better.

Christmas at the A&E

As I begin to write, I'm sitting in the backseat of the family car, driving down the winding roads at the Singapore General Hospital compound. My sister at the wheel and my dad beside her. We make casual conversation and feeble jokes, but it just adds more to the bland and numb atmosphere that hangs all around us, complemented with the dull, lukewarm blue hue and dark shadows of the early Christmas morning, cold and desolate.

But really, we were all just trying to distract ourselves from the uneasiness, filling in for the absence of Mom. 

We were having a staycation at Changi Village for the Christmas holidays, but Mom's health was deteriorating as she frequently vomited, experienced chills and began running irregular bouts of high fever. On Christmas Eve we were to attend a church Christmas service in town, but because Mom was in no state to go, I stayed back at the hotel with her while my Dad and sister went on ahead. Mom kept apologising, but there really wasn't anything to apologise for.

Then at around 3 am in the morning I was roused awake to the distant voices of my family, and the blurry lamp lights. I was still too sleep-intoxicated to get up, so I just laid in the comfortable white sheets listening, as if it were all a dream. Mom's raspy voice, Dad and Stacey discussing over whether to check out now and bring Mom to the hospital, until one of the distant voices became clearer and my sister walked in to wake me up. Pack up, we're going to the A&E. 

It was a silent ride all the way to SGH, save for occasional inquiries over Mom's condition. We pulled into the A&E driveway and my sister took over the wheel to park the car as Dad and I got a wheelchair and wheeled Mom into the building. Since Mom was running a fever, she had to be taken to the Fever Zone and only one family member could accompany her. I waited in the waiting area as Dad gave me a nod of reassurance and wheeled Mom through the fogged glass sliding doors.

The A&E seemed like a set from a television drama, and the medics, hospital staff, policemen, patients were all the players. But this was real.

An expatriate with a bloodied bandage on his forehead was speaking in some sort of Dutch-sounding language to his male friend. A pair of policemen standing guard over their subject who had his legs bound with black strips. An Indian man with greying hair in a wheelchair looking all disorientated. A group of party-dressed teens with members suffering from a black eye and bandaged head talking loudly about some scuffle that had occurred earlier.

The Indian in the wheelchair suddenly started asking no one in particular in a slurred tone for water. I was holding onto an unopened bottle of mineral water and was contemplating if I should offer it to him, but my sister who had by then joined me stopped me and said the policemen and hospital staff will handle him.

He then turned to one of the police officers standing guard over the subject, threatening to throw his temper if they did not comply to his demands, to which the officer firmly retorted whether the Indian would take responsibility for him if the officer fails to watch over his subject.

 

A medic stormed into the waiting room and started scolding the Indian man in Malay, and from the heated exchange I found the reason why. Apparently this is the man's fourth visit to the A&E in a day because he went and got himself drunk all day. The medic accused the man for being "a waste of taxpayers' money" because he was unnecessarily depriving casualties out there who were probably in greater need of medical attention from getting an ambulance quickly. "If I could do something to you I definitely will", the medic threatened before storming off while the Indian man continued to mumble to himself. All of these scenes unfolded before me, and I could only keep my head down like a nun trying not to seem as though I was paying too much attention.

Dad updated us via the family Whatsapp group on the urine and blood tests they ran on Mom, and in the end the doctor diagnosed an infection that could have probably spread to her bloodstream and affected her liver, therefore requiring her to be warded for further close observation. It was around 7 am then, and we went to see Mom again who was resting in the holding room while the hospital located a hospital bed for her.

As we prepared to go home first before coming back in the late afternoon, Mom apologised again, and wished us Merry Christmas to which I joked "isn't so merry after all". 

Now, on further thought, I wondered why I was lying there in the hotel bed when I heard and understood that Mom's health wasn't getting better. It seemed as though I didn't want to believe it was true. I realised that these days as Mom retched and complained of aches and chills I had desperately wanted her to stop, naively thinking that she was over exaggerating her condition and telling her not to assume the worst. 

But I just didn't want to accept the possibility that her condition would be serious. I had wanted to believe that it was just a bout of cold or bad flu, and all would be fine after a few days of rest and medication. I didn't want to know that my parents aren't as healthy as they used to be and prepare for a future of them evidently walking a path of physical suffering and vulnerability to illnesses. I was too naive and afraid.

So now I'm at home and resting, and I think of how this Christmas won't be forgotten so easily having spent the early hours at the A&E waiting and worrying. I think of how I have to stop running away from reality into dreams so conveniently.

Straight Lines

I like straight lines.

They're clean, neat and reassuring. They are plain, straightforward and focused. 

Why can't decisions be the same? If only I lived in a utopian setting where everything is predetermined, and where everyone has a specific role to play, without having to worry about whether this option is good or another choice is better. 

I just want to get settled as quickly as possible. I just want to be content and stable. I don't care if someone else has it better than me. 

Bummer. Today I went for an interview for the job as a preschool assistant teacher at a newly opened school in Yio Chu Kang. For the past 2 weeks or so my family has been nagging at me to get out and get a job, so after making a call to an ad I saw in the classifieds this morning, I went for the interview. 

The job scope included assisting the teacher in the Montessori syllabus, helping with feeding and cleaning up, and observing the preschoolers' progress. The job also required commitment as it wouldn't be good if the children were to form an attachment to me and I were to quit halfway.

I was pretty much confident I could do it, plus the interviewer told me that I would most likely get the job, so I figured I had settled this already. 

However when I told my family the news, they advised me to reconsider and look for other jobs instead, raising their concerns over the pay (which I honestly felt was reasonable), and distance (but I've been travelling further distances to school for the past 2 years). I know my family members mean well, and I'm not mad at them. It's just that I really get so tired whenever people start to dissuade me on something when I'm pretty much resolute.

It's like me trying to draw a straight line and people around me are pointing out flaws and loopholes, and the line just isn't straight anymore. It peeves me so much. I just want to get things done and settled pronto. Not drag the time out dipping my digits into different places and contemplating which is the most superb domain for me. 

And the worst thing is that even though I could just blindside my family's influence and go ahead with the job, my initial resolution to take up the job has already been weakened, and I feel awful because during the interview I had acted so sure about being able to commit. 

Right now I just want to lock myself away from the world, pretend nothing ever happened and pretend I don't exist for a few days until maybe I could convince myself with the delusion that people wouldn't remember me as well. It's because I feel so awful now. I hate giving people false hope more than myself being given false hope. 

Why can't someone just make the decisions for me? I could be a Sim and some omniscient figure would be the one dictating what I do, who I meet, where I go.

Sigh. These days I've been feeling pretty vexed. I want to be alone more than ever. I've been having real foolish thoughts like how I'm fat ugly and uninteresting and no one would ever take notice of me. I'm a fool. A weak one. Where has that motivation to be stronger gone to? I feel like a complete loser. I may be wrong, but I pretty much blame interactions for how I'm feeling now. 

I know I'm huge. I know. There's no need to mince your words. Because I give myself a harder time than anyone else would. You don't have to laugh that forced laughter. Don't go through all that trouble because nothing will change. It's not like I will feel any better. You think I don't already know? I feel it more than any of you do. This crushing and crumbling self confidence I've worked so hard to build, to enable myself to laugh it off. 

I always think I'm not worthy of interaction, or people don't care. I run away a lot. Especially on Sundays when i follow my family to church. After every service I stiffen up, and avoid all eye contact with all the church people until I get into the lift and away from everyone. I always bring a book with me to read at Starbucks while waiting for my family to finish whatever duties or conversations they have before they come to get me. 

Those church people who always come up to me with their very bright smiles asking my name again even though I've been here for years (I don't blame them, I'm like a ghost) and inviting me to their gatherings and groups, being overly friendly. They are good people, but I can't help but think that Christians are obliged to keep up that impression of friendliness, of perfection, or holiness. I feel so wretched the more they reach out to me. I feel like I have to act that way too, smiling back my own bright smile, speaking just like they do. Are they not flawed humans like myself? 

At the end of everything, I feel more alone than ever. I feel as if everyone is ahead of me, and I'm here just struggling with my existence, wondering what's my purpose. I feel like I'm all ready to give up trying to be strong for myself and for others and just sink in loneliness, disappearing from people's minds, from the world. 

If I can't save myself, how can I even dare to dream about saving someone else? And who's there to save me? 

Extremes

This probably describes how I feel now. And you'll see why.

These couple of days I've been feeling emotions on extreme ends, and it's unbelievable that this is happening to me. I thought it'd only happen in manga plots or cliche shows.

So yesterday I had my peeps from VJ Guitar Ensemble EXCO over for a gathering, and we all had a blast (though it was a pity Phin couldn't join us due to her mom's gastritis). I was apprehensive about how the food would turn out two nights before, because while I've cooked pasta plenty of times, cooking for a group of 7-8 was different. Mom and I went grocery shopping the day before at Jems and we spent quite a bit because mom insisted on using the better quality ingredients.

I made carbonara and smoked salmon bruschetta, and was really pleased with how the taste turned out. My friends liked it too, and it's great that no one has complained of any case of food poisoning so far HAHA.

Ryan baked a chocolate cake, which we ate after watching Ouijia together with the red wine Bernard brought and juice that Gilbert and Juliana bought, and Phin's J.Co donuts (she met up with Ryan before he came over and passed him the torrented movies and donut - so nice!)

I was a little nervous about not having much to do over at my house, but my friends stayed late till 10 and it felt like it wasn't enough.

After lunch we watched Ouijia, which was really disappointing because of the cliche horror plots (and therefore lacking in the thrill element) and menial scares. Bernard and Juliana were the ones among us who were more easily scared, and I happened to be sitting right between them. And when this jumpscare came out the two of them screamed and grabbed at me WHICH SCARED ME WHAT THE HECK. But it was fun teasing Bernard about it haha.

After the cake and drinks, we played games on the PS3, taking turns to play Little Big Planet, Mortal Kombat vs DC Universe, some soccer game etc. We were all surprised by Juliana who pretty much owned us all in the fighting games even though she's nicknamed the Princess for her very ladylike and gentle demeanor. It was so funny watching them play, and the red wine Bernard brought made me laugh myself silly. Mom and dad were really nice and bought chicken rice for dinner for all of us, and we had a great dinner before resuming the games.

In the last hour (around 9?) we had a heart to heart talk after Bernard gave us our Christmas presents and cards, and I thought to myself that it's just really nice to have friends whom you could talk with for long periods without getting sick. They left around 10, and I heard that they only reached home around 12 because they all live in the east. Now they know my pain MUAHAHA.

From top left clockwise: Yours truly, Princess Juju, Ryan, Bern, and Gillie

I guess life is all about balance isn't it? Because I've had so much fun yesterday, today seems to be payback time. Truth to be told, I don't think I ever had a day so unlucky before today. I have lived a good life.

The EXCO and I arranged to meet at the airport today to send off Bernard and Gilbert who were returning back to Jakarta. I woke up this morning feeling all great from yesterday, thinking that the day ahead would be awesome as well because it's the same company. But while the latter part is true, my day was kinda ruined mishap after mishap such that I was struggling so hard to keep my sanity.

I left the house on time at around 11.30am, and about 5 minutes into waiting for the bus, I realised that I had left my wallet at home, so I had to run back up and grab it. By the time I got downstairs I had missed the bus and the next bus was 7 minutes away. That was mishap 1. So I decided to make up for lost time by cabbing part way to Jurong East MRT station.

Mishap 2: The taxi driver took the long route even though he asked me which route I preferred. But it was too late for me to tell him otherwise and I kinda wasted my $11.50 on the ride which took longer than necessary. My head was throbbing because I just can't stand being late for anything and I get stressed when that happens.

When I boarded the train, I was panicking whether I would get there on time, and my head was hurting more than ever, so I decided to listen to some music on my earphones. I was grabbing my earphones from my bag and putting my wallet into it when I heard a heavy thud. The next thing I saw was my iPhone on the floor with a cracked screen. Mishap 3 for you. And all because I just happened to be standing on the part of the train where there's the metal flooring. Just. Perfect. Even now whenever I use my phone I'm constantly reminded over and over about what a horrible day today has been.

When I got out at City Hall, lo and behold there was bright sun...AND RAIN. The perfect weather for a disastrous day. It was 12.40pm and we were to meet at 1pm at Terminal 1. Sticking to my planned route of taking 36 to Changi would take about 40 min give and take. So under the horrible weather I ran back from the bus stop to the taxi stand and cabbed my way to the destination. 2 cab rides in a day.

Thankfully the cab driver this time drove pretty fast (maybe he saw my utterly ruined expression). On the way I was doling out "at least"s one after another, like "at least I brought some water out to drink and feel better" and "at least we are driving o my favourite high way", which shows how desperate I was to stop myself from snapping mentally and just losing it.

In the end, I was the earliest among all of us to reach. *slow claps*

"But at least I finally made it on time, and I'm in a nice airport, and maybe now that I'm the earliest I could sit in that nice seat and read my book while listening to some music."

Anyway Phin couldn't join us again since she was working, and there were other Victorians who were there to see off the other Indonesian scholars. We all took pictures and hung around to talk, hug, joke around etc. Gilbert's flight was first, so we saw him off first before going to Aston's to have lunch, the four of us - Bernard, Ryan, Juliana and yours truly.

And just when things were getting better with food and awesome company, mishap (I lost count) happened. The zip on my bag broke. So I had to go home at the end of everything from Changi to Yew Tee with a compartment of my backpack open for all to see. I'm surprised though that no one told me to zip up my bag. I could be a walking social experiment haha.

Writer's note : Mishap 1 million and 13 just happened - a gigantic roach flew into the house. Mom caught it. Thank goodness.

We had a great lunch and had more HTHT, until it was time to see Bernard off. I think probably the most disappointing thing today was the fact that two of my very good friends are flying back home. That's the equivalent of a million mishaps. Even though Jakarta is just an hour's flight away and we'd probably see them next year if they decide to collect their A Level results personally, I can't help but feel sad, knowing that they aren't on the same island, on the other side of the same island, at Victoria Hall. And that we won't be meeting up that often as an EXCO anymore.

I really miss you guys now, even the locals :'( Look at my tired face hahaha

Sigh. So here I am in front of the PC screen with a heavy and still throbbing head wondering how "lucky" I was to have undergone such an "eventful" day today. Seriously, don't days like these happen purely in fictional plots? Just yesterday I was having a blast and today I'm all exhausted with a phone that has a broken screen. How very extreme indeed.

Beginner

I love gazing at beautiful skies, especially skies that look like the one above - crystal clear and vivid blue, high and breath-taking. I heard that the skies in other countries where there are mountains are even higher than what we can see here. The sky is so wide and limitless, and I just want to defy gravity and fall into them. But sometimes there's the bitter aftertaste, when you know that things like beautiful skies don't last, and that you can't do anything about it because you can't control or you don't own the skies. You can only watch, and do nothing else about the feelings you have.

Skies like these are so refreshing to look at, and it empowers you so much. I need the strength to press on because now is only the beginning. I have a long road ahead of me, places to see, people to meet, emotions to discover.

Yesterday, I went to the SPH Scholarship talk with Iggy from high school, and I kinda cleared my growing doubts about trying out for the scholarship. These few weeks I had been thinking really hard whether I should still go ahead and apply because I'm also looking for jobs and most of the openings require at least 3 months of working with them. The scholarship selection process includes about 3-4 months of internship with the SPH, and thus I was caught in a dilemma of whether I should just stick to the plan of applying and interning or just wait to apply for the mid-term scholarship and get other jobs instead.

The talk gave me more insight into the job scope, and the editor Ignatius Low who was the speaker for the talk was really candid and informative. The job of a journalist doesn't reap much income compared to most jobs in the corporate or civil sector, but it is very rewarding in other ways. It won't be easy, but there's always the first steps of a beginner and from there on things can only get better. It's the perfect avenue for me to experience as many things as possible by going out there and observing and gathering stories. So yeap, I guess I would send in my application after all.

Iggy and I went to City Hall to get some llao llao for lunch after, and we had a lot of fun talking, mostly sharing and recommending good movies. It's really awesome because Iggy and I share the same interests in movie genres like indie and those arty farty types, and even Disney and Pixar movies! There's only a few friends whom I'd discuss movies with, so it's great that there's another who shares the same passion as myself.

I reached home around 3 to nap and then prepare to go to Tanglin Community Centre after dinner for a trial class of Jiujitsu. Last Saturday I had a class outing with my primary school friends, and I talked to Berlin about being interested in learning a type of martial art so he invited me to follow him yesterday to the dojo he practices at. Tanglin CC has all kinds of martial arts - Kendo, Aikido and wrestling etc. So I turned up in tracks because I don't have a Gi, and started my very first experience in the art of Jiujitsu.

We started off with a really really long and thorough warm-up session, followed by techniques in countering a grab and throwing or pinning your opponent down. It was really strenuous and halfway through I started seeing stars and becoming dazed hahaha. The biggest disappointment I felt was my inability to do a forward roll. I really couldn't bring myself to flip forward because I was afraid of going upside down even for a brief moment. Berlin was really nice and helped by manually lifting my legs and flipping me over (because I am horrible and I can't use my legs to propel myself forward).

Berlin's friend, Yuan Ning, was my partner for trying out the countering techniques, and she was really nice and cool as well. During the break I watched as Yuan Ning and Berlin practiced throwing each other and I was just stupefied in awe. I want to be as cool as that girl, I thought.
We ended the approximately 2 hour- long session with a Randori, which is a free sparring session where you and your opponent kneel back to back, and at the cue of the instructor, you turn around and try to pin your opponent down using groundwork techniques.

There were three rounds, and I was up against a boy way younger than me, a younger girl named Deborah and lastly Yuan Ning. I got mercilessly pinned by the younger boy after he countered my grab. Surprisingly for his small build he was pretty strong. The subsequent matches I was determined not to be pinned myself so I used all my strength and kept my female opponents down because I knew if they countered it would be hard for me to get out of a lock or pin. I attribute it to my lack of a gi and maybe my comparatively bigger build that I managed not to get pinned, because the collar and the sleeves of the gi makes it easier for the opponent to grab you and perform a counter.

Despite the intense session (mind you, this is just the beginner's class), I really had a lot of fun because I don't think I ever had the chance to be allowed to get physical with people, throwing and pinning them. The techniques taught are extremely useful in self-defense, so if I ever get attacked in future I would have a higher chance of escaping. I took a form from the instructor, but I'm still reconsidering if I should sign up for regular classes because I'm still pretty dazed from yesterday and still really bummed that I can't do a forward roll. Berlin said I would get better with practice, and should work hard on my own by doing cardio. I guess that means I've to put in more effort in the daily jogs as well. And practicing forward rolls on my bed. Ugh.

I've a long way to go in everything, and as a beginner I should be filled to the brim with motivation and energy. I hope the fighting spirit won't die down so easily.

Time-being

"It made me sad when I caught myself pretending that everybody out there in cyberspace cared about what I thought, when really nobody gives a shit."

"And when I multiplied that sad feeling by all the millions of people in their lonely little rooms, furiously writing and posting to their lonely little pages that nobody has time to read because they're all so busy writing and posting, it kind of broke my heart."

A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki

Today will be different. Instead of a picture I decided to quote from a book I'm currently reading.

It's true isn't it. You probably came here via that little link you saw somewhere out of curiosity, and in an attempt to grasp who I am by examining how I write, what I think, where my heart and mind is. I would never know who you are, and I don't particularly need or want to. Maybe you don't exist. Maybe I'm really just a pitiful creature howling into oblivion thinking there is an audience out there.

I won't deny hoping. Hoping that there is at least one soul who comes by to understand. But sorry to disappoint, I'm not writing this in an indirect attack on this world, like how so many people do to release all their opinions. 

It's like that kid's story I heard somewhere, where people in a town spread a secret one to another about the king, until it reached a boy who didn't know what to do with the information. His mother advised him to dig a hole in the ground and whisper into the hole before covering it up, which helped relaxed the tension in the boy. However, a tree sprouted from where the hole was, and its flowers began to spread the king's secret far and wide, until it was no secret anymore and the king found out. Needless to say, he was embarrassed and furious, but he couldn't punish anyone and had to live with the pain from being constantly reminded about his secret.

Don't you think it's true? Not just blogs - other social media platforms are the same. People who are naive enough to think that ranting on their blogs, condemning others on Twitter is okay because "no one will know". Silly, these people don't even cover up their holes properly, almost as if they meant for others to see their dirty words, to know what happened, to feel bad. Convenient too, because they don't have to feel guilt about attacking others. They can always say it wasn't them. It was the tree whose flowers spread it.

No one gives a shit, Ozeki is right. It is a sad fact that more and more people are trying to be heard instead of trying to hear. But just because she's right doesn't mean we have a right to be resigned to this fate. I'm trying so hard to abstain from social media where I can see so many naive cowards, like Twitter. Instagram is fine, pictures are great. 

Maybe my blogging stems from hope that someone would come by and take an interest in my perspectives. But I do know that nobody actually cares for philosophy, and flock to the materialistic. I want to preserve my thoughts. I want to preserve my mind. I'm preparing for the future. Questions that swim around in endless currents in my head, that plague me so much, I want to keep them. Moments of truth, of enlightenment, I never want to lose them. All of it, I will document in diaries and blog entries. 

A Tale for the Time Being holds such an element. Nao, a Japanese girl, wrote a diary which was then found by Ruth on a beach preserved in a Hello Kitty lunchbox wrapped in freezer bags. Nao had meant for someone to read it, and described it as reaching out to her reader in a connection. We are all time beings. Because Ruth was reading about Nao, wondering about Nao's life, she was reaching back in time to connect with Nao.

I guess it's a little complicated! You should read the book. Right now during my break I'm trying not to let my brain rot by filling it with junk like games and comics, so my sisters lent me more books to read. I just borrowed The Handmaid's Tale from Stacey, which I would read after this book that Stella lent me. I have to thank my sisters for helping me cultivate a love for reading, and their tastes in genre have also influenced me, Stacey for example, reads a lot of utopian/dystopian themed books like The Handmaid's Tale, while Stella reads mostly philosophical titles such as those by Paulo Coelho.

Reading is important. It doesn't just improve your language, but it helps you gain new perspectives and insights, and makes you think past shallow ideas and thoughts. I find it a shame that a lot of people brush off reading like it is nothing. You need to read if you want to hold a good (or bluntly put, intelligent) conversation with someone.