Over the past few weeks, I feel as if I’m more aware of the diversity around me when I commute.
1.5 hour of daily commuting to class has tamed me to bring a book–any book, to spare myself from mental torture. Usually, I finish my homework between classes (4 hours. more than enough time), so I am almost always in dire need of brain stimulation. I carry around 2~3 books at a time, not because I enjoy reading, but because subway rides can become unbearable for someone like me.
When 7 train closed down on Saturday of the Macaulay museum meeting, I was forced to take Q88 to Woodhaven for the first time in my life. As soon as I claimed my seat on the back of the bus, I found my self sitting in front (because the seats of the bus allowed 4 people to face each other) of a hispanic man holding red “Sacra Biblia.” He had quite a tranquil look on him, as if he was going for a church meeting, or as if he is a deacon or an acolyte, giving a heavy impression of piety, not according to the definition of Euthyphro and Socrates, but by the definition engraved in our natural human-ness, in that one can imagine that the man is having a relationship with God on his ride to wherever he was going.
Next to him set an elderly lady, murmuring at a volume inaudible, holding a small crimson book. As she mouthed each word, I became curious to see the contents of the book, as the title written on the spine of the book was too faded out to be legible. Luckily, I was able to see the chapter title of the page, which read: “Sanctuary Spell.” That was a great brain stimulant. I started to think: is the “spell” the “spell” that I know? Like… Witchcraft? Sorcery? Magic? I hate to be rude, and if anyone is offended by this post, I will gladly apologize, but I just have to say: I loved the irony that the lady had to sit next to the man.
When I and Sam went to Book Culture to buy the required reading, I noticed that there were several sellers of books around the block.
How much longer would such things exist?
What if books become like scrolls; what if archaeologists in the years to come take my journals and notebooks and infer that humans of 21st century actually wrote things on a bundle of bound papers with ink and graphite?
Books are cool. We should love them.
How does it feel like to be the a minority in City College???
I actually respect you very much in that you can stand up for what you love to do, even if that means being the only English major within 3 mi. radius…
When riding the subways I never really see anyone reading books. On occasion I do but not often, and I do agree that books are sometimes great, enlightening and awe-inspiring. However, in a modern world information is usually preferred in a very precise statement. Reading a 300 page book on a single theme, with a single thing to draw from, that a person may or may not even really understand can seem daunting to a reader. Why do that, when you can simply look up a summary of the novel, and learn of it in a way that’s less time consuming. The world is abuzz, and information is always needed readily and constantly. I do find some join in reading books, don’t get me wrong. They allow you to get into the story, be almost a witness to what goes on, fictional or not.
As to looking at the other riders, I love to just watch other riders and see the diversity around me. I always try to think about where they come from, and where they’re going. I like to listen in on other people’s lives, despite not knowing them, because I am a big fan of the social sciences. It is as if we are all “books,” all of us have our own story and by seeing someone or listening to them speak you are getting just a bit of the big picture of the plot that is still being written.