You don't need ovaries to be a feminist

Last weekend, the book club gathered for its monthly discussion on two books, which tackle the very relevant issue of feminism. First, we talked about Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's essay titled "We Should All Be Feminists," and then followed by the Filipino translation of Liv Strömquist's nonfiction Fruit of Knowledge, which was brilliant translated by Beverly Siy and given the Filipino title Puki Usap. I love both books and found them engaging.

Deep into the discussion

I love Chimamanda. Her novel Americanah is one of my favorite novels in recent years. The essay "We Should All Be Feminists" is written in the same accessible style as her novels. You don't need a dictionary to be able to fully appreciate what she's saying. Her writing speaks to you directly, and this essay speaks from the heart. I agree with her 100% that we should ALL be feminists. If you believe in equal rights for all, then you're a feminist. If you acknowledge the history that led us to this unbalanced treatment of the sexes, then you're a feminist. If you respect women and transgendered women, then yes, you're a feminist. Chimamanda makes it clear that anti-feminism is so ingrained in our culture that we most often don't pay attention to these instances. It's about time we shake things up, no?

I'm not at all familiar with Strömquist's works. So after reading her nonfiction work (which was in comic/graphic format) that tackles the vagina and how it was unfairly treated and represented throughout history. Why should be we feel iffy talking about the vagina? One-half of the world's population have one. And also, what's the deal with not discussing the clitoris and the female orgasm? Goodness, how prudish some people could be! I say let's all bring these issues on the table! Let's throw away our shame and guilt when we talk about those parts of the female anatomy.

I fell for Strömquist's voice on her subject matter. It's both angry and snarky at the same time. And Beverly Siy's style in the translation complements the tone of the book. I imagine that translating this controversial work is challenging, but Siy made it look effortless. I laughed at the use of everyday Filipino phrases and words injected into the work. I think I just found the perfect Christmas gift for many of my friends. They will be shocked, for sure, but they will be smarter for it.

The two books we talked about during the discussion

I mentioned during the discussion that the reason I fell hard for these two books is that they start conversations on feminism and other issues such as gender vs. sexuality and diversity. People need to raise questions about things that confuse them. And if we don't talk about these things, then how else can we acknowledge our differences and have respect for the people around us. How can we even begin to agree with one another if we don't even understand what the other party is going through? How can we effect change to make sure that everyone is treated fairly? What can we do to ensure that future generations wouldn't live with fear, discrimination, and shame, like so many do now?

As usual, I don't have answers. But I have loads of questions. #StoryOfMyLife

Requisite group shot

Oh, I don't think I've told you yet that I've started doing yoga. Today marks the 3rd week I've been attending yoga classes in the morning every day at 6.45 am. I still have a long way to go to get to the stability and strength that I want. I know because I'm quite shaky in some of the poses that are held for a long time, and I sometimes fall during one-leg poses. My yoga teachers are my inspiration. They look so fit (even though they aren't muscular) with bright faces that don't seem to need any product.

I'm not doing this for weight loss or to become toned. Well, losing a few more pounds of fat wouldn't hurt. But my main motivation for doing yoga is that I don't want to turn into those people who can't seem to do a lot of things because of their age. I want to climb stairs without being breathless. I wanna reach my toes comfortably while I keep my knees straight. I want to be able to hold my head down without getting dizzy. I wish to remain flexible when I reach my 50s. And I think yoga can help me with these.

I love the feeling every time a yoga class ends. It's as if all my joints are loosened and I feel a certain lightness in my step. Also, I get that pinkish glow after a good workout. "Workout? But aren't you doing yoga?" you might ask. Yes, I never thought that yoga can give someone a good sweat (I sweat buckets in the hot core class), a satisfying cardio session, and loads of exercises that build endurance.

The bf and I I attended a yoga session just before the discussion.
We were actually invited by Anne to join her class as part of her practicum,
as she's been training really hard to become a certified yoga teacher.

With Anne, after her kick-ass beginner yoga class

From books to movies

Me: By any chance, are  you my father?

I love Stephen King's The Shining. It was equal parts creepy, in-your-face, gory, and claustrophobic. I was scared out of my wits when I read the part with the naked bloodied woman in the bathtub. I'd like to believe that that scene turned me gay, or at least made me flee from naked female bodies forever. But when I saw the Stanley Kubric movie adaptation, I kept thinking that the novel wasn't that batshit crazy. I did enjoy Kubric's movie though, especially the scenes with those creepy ass twins. Now that's something I can't say for a few movies based on King's books. I heard The Gunslinger sucked vacuum cleaners. And The Lawnmover Man was so hysterical I was farty for a few days.

Nevertheless, when I think about all the King-based movies I do like (Misery, Salem's Lot, Cujo, the latest It, Stand by Me, Carrie), I ask myself, "Would I still enjoy these movies if I didn't like the books they're based on?" And, "Would I still be able to love the adaptation even though it didn't stay true to the book?" Why, yes and yes! I love Twilight, both the book and the movie. I hated The Golden Compass movie, not because its source book is one of my all-time faves, but because the movie was so confusing and all over the place that it was painful to watch. I'd much rather have a root canal. The Bridges of Madison County, the novel, was so sappy that I developed ovaries after a few pages. But the movie had the perfect balance of gravitas and melodrama. Also, Meryl Streep.

I stopped comparing movies with the books they're based on. I even made a lengthy-ish post about it on Facebook (screenshot below),

Yes, I'm using big fonts on my phone.
And I couldn't care less if the person sitting next to me can read my texts.
It's been years since I was last sexting.
But, pardon the grammatical lapses though. I spot 4.

Anyway, the book club discussed our love/hate thing for screen adaptations of our favorite books this month. As usual, it was an afternoon of interesting and enlightening conversations. (Kokay, the discussion moderator, was awesome!) I brought copies of two novels that have wonderfully entertaining big screen adaptations—Elizabeth von Armin's Enchanted April and E. M. Forster's A Room with a View. There, I admit, I'm a huge anglophile. My anglophilia is very much through the roof that I have watched each episode of Downton Abbey at least three times. And those British actors! Ack! How can I not fall in love with Henry Cavill, Jim Sturgess, Aidan Turner, and Richard Madden. When Madden's character in Game of Thrones died, I was this close to storming the HBO offices and asking for heads to roll.

As for the worst adaptation (we were asked to identify what we think are the best and our worst adaptations), I didn't mention a bad adaptation of a book, in the spirit of my Facebook post above. A bad movie is a bad movie is a bad movie, and it doesn't matter whether it's an adaptation or not. Battlefield Earth will always be a bad movie. And Eragon. And The Cat in the Hat. It's just even more unfortunate that these movies are based on books that are beloved by many, so there will be the inevitable comparisons. Again, people, make your life easier—stop the comparisons and be content enjoying apples and oranges separately.

Additional recommendations regarding screen adaptations
Again, all heavy on the anglo

Crazy rich gaysians

I found my calling in three words—to be a crazy rich gaysian. And that's primarily because I saw the movie Crazy Rich Asians last week, and I loved every part of it. I guess you'd say that I was predisposed to liking it, being a crazy Asian myself, but frankly, I wasn't expecting anything much except to watch how two things this movie has in buckets, which are diversity and inclusion, would be translated to the big screen.

Singlish is love.
And I miss hearing the expression, "Can?"
Like, "You free for dinner tonight, yah? Can?"

The mostly Asian cast did it for me. Ah, Henry Golding . . . Just be the next James Bond already. I swear, every time he's on screen, you're struck by how shiny he is. And that voice, so sexy it can make polar ice caps melt. Good fashion sense too, on and off screen. There was this issue about him not being too Asian enough, as his father's British. But let me tell you, dear reader, when I look at him, I see only an Asian face. Constance Wu is so precious that you wanna put her inside your man-purse (murse?) and just take her out to show her to your other gay friends and fag hags. Can't believe she's 36, a few years older than HG, who is 31. Asian age can be deceiving, yes? And when I grow older, all I want is to be Michelle Yeoh. If HG is hot, MY is so icy that the temperature drops whenever she enters a room. And don't we all wish that we can have a bff like Awkwafina?

The book club discussed Crazy Rich Asians in 2015. I remember liking it and defending it when a few people commented that there's an inherent shallowness in its story, that it's all fluff and too materialistic. Well, isn't that the whole point of the novel? I think I mentioned that we shouldn't really think too much about it. And that it doesn't ask you to read it in another profound, deeper level. It's all about Asians who are filthy rich, some of whom are so full of themselves that they're blind to all of their shortcomings. The novel's storyline is classic telenovela fodder: outsider girl marries into an old rich family. It's something we've all read and seen in varying permutations, even when we were young when we listened to fairy tales. But Kevin Kwan't novel is distinctly Asian. For that alone, reading it is an experience.

Anyway, let's get back to the movie, yes? It's just so fabulous. I suddenly miss Singapore, with its shopping malls with their airconditioning on at full. I swear, every time I enter a mall in Singapore, my balls shrink a few centimeters. What is going with the AC? It's like people there want to escape that tropical humidity as much as they can. Also, one is amazed at the genius of the costumes in the movie. Constance Wu's character isn't rich, but she ends up not wearing the same thing twice because of crazy rich Awkwafina, who plays her close friend. Yes, some of the things she wore might appear frumpy and too fussy, but they suit her. Henry Golding looks like a god with or without clothes. Michelle Yeoh's clothes are all clean lines and sharp silhouettes, which fit her stiff character. And Awkwafina is one of the few people on this planet who can rock a pajama-type ensemble. Did I mention that seeing shirtless HG is life changing?

Taken right before the book club's discussion
Gaysians know that one should hold wine glasses only at their stems.

If I turned into a cockroach

I finished another story by Kafka recently—the one where the main character wakes up one day transformed as a cockroach, "The Metamorphosis." And can I just say that I loved the absurdity of it all. Like when you read The Idiot, you just swallow your disbelief and just run with it. Of all things that one can turn into, Kafka had to choose a cockroach, that vile insect that everyone seems afraid of. And my goodness let's not talk about the flying variety.

Now I'm not a person who's uncomfortable around insects. I love them arthropods—beetles, ants, termites, mantises, etc. Yes, some of these are pests, but as a Bio major, I know how important they are to the ecosystem. But cockroaches are another matter. I have always speculated what their roles are. Ah, one of the great mysteries of life. These critters should be annihilated. When we were in line at a temple in Bangkok, we saw a cockroach idly crawling near us. Of course, none of us dared to step on it because, you know, Buddhist respect for all life. I could imagine all the feelings of disgust and desire to scream and flee from the insect that they bottled inside. Of course, the bf and I were just amused. We come from a third world country; we literally sleep with these critters.

I have a weird affinity for spiders though. I can't bear to hurt these cute animals. When you meet a spider, keep in mind that it's probably more afraid of you than you are of it. And it'll probably sting only when provoked. Interestingly, this morning I saw a huge spider in the shower. Probably with a leg span as long as my hand. (BTW, I have huge hands.) So you can probably understand my dilemma. Should I risk it and take a shower? Or should I just splash water on my face and just put baby powder all over my sexy body? In the end though, I took a very quick shower (i.e., 2 minutes) at the farthest corner of the bathroom.

And crap, I have digressed in the two previous paragraphs. So let's go back to "Metamorphosis" and how I reveled in Gregor Samsa's transformation. Imagine waking up one morning being unable to immediately get out of bed because you've discovered that your body is now flat and you find it difficult to move your legs, all 6 of them. Then your family's, like, no biggie, we'll just lock you in your room and feed you every day. I find it ironic that Gregor would turn into a cockroach, that creature which seem to serve no purpose at all (except to make white people squirm). Prior to this metamorphosis, Gregor was the breadwinner in his family, earning enough not just for his family's day-to-day but also to pay his parents' debts. But you couldn't do that anymore if you're a cockroach, no?

Eventually, his family's tolerance to his new form reaches a tipping point—they can no longer stand having him in their house. At one point, in a hysterical set piece, his father was trying to step on him while Gregor was scurrying around the walls and the floor of the room. "Metamorphosis" is a sad story of a man caught in a surreal circumstance. Kafka doesn't even bother to explain this transformation. And why would he? It's the utter in-your-face absurdity that makes the story. 

Kafka virgin

My two favorite quotes from Kafka's The Trial

Our book club's selection for this month is Kafka's works, beginning with the novel The Trial. I've never read Kafka, and I have this notion that his works will read like those of Russian novelists such as Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. I have a special affinity for Tolstoy's and Dostoevsky's novels. I don't mind that their main characters are drunkards (or throw themselves in front of a moving train), they live in squalor, and the weather is always freezing. Somehow, pondering about life's biggest questions seems easier if you have these unfortunate conditions. Maybe I'm just a closet romantic, no? But Kafka's The Trial is completely different in tone and subject matter. And I am jarred. Well, at least for a few minutes.

The first thing that struck me about The Trial is its pace. The writing is so frenetic that it leaves you catching your breath—long paragraphs with hardly any punctuation, dialogue that you have to decipher as to who exactly is the one speaking the lines, and events happening one after another in a span of a few sentences. I love it. The pace is perfect in evoking an atmosphere of claustrophobia and unpredictability, as these characterize the situation tha Joseph K., the main character, is going through. What exactly can K. do when he wakes up one morning to find people in his apartment who are there to arrest him for a crime unspecified throughout the story?

But pacing aside, the novel's story is told straight through. But the range of situations that K. finds himself is so vast that it forces you to question the genre of the novel. Is it absurdist? Is it metafiction? Is it a satire? But cares about genre these days anyway? I don't. I just want a good story. So, these situations—they can go from being absurd one moment to sensual the next. And it is this absurdity that makes me forgive K.'s wrongful actions or, more often, inaction to be able to get himself out of that ridiculously surreal situation. How can one act rationally if the circumstances that go your way are irrational?

Bureaucracy is one of the prevailing themes of The Trial. No matter how many people that K. meets who can help him with his coming trial, no one seems to have a clear idea on how to help. K. is forced to consult a lawyer, listen to a preacher, and talk to a painter and court reporter. They all present a grim outlook for the trial. It's a bleak picture that Kafka paints in this story. It's not exactly entertaining, but it certainly makes you pause and think. I have so many questions after finishing the novel. Thank goodness for Google.

The cover of my copy of The Trial kicks ass.

All that BS over formal vs. informal writing (or why the eggplant emoji is my favorite emoji)

Last weekend, I moderated the discussion on Strunk & White's The Elements of Style for the book club. Much as I would have liked to focus on the nitty gritty of this very polarizing book, I chose to talk about the book's relevance. Do people still care about the subjunctive mood? Heck, do they even know what the subjunctive mood is? (I love the subjunctive. If it were possible to use it every time, I would have ran away with it. There's something about the subjunctive. It connotes missed probabilities and unfulfilled wishes and desires.) What about pronoun antecedents? And how do you manage those pesky sexist pronouns without being too wordy or cloying?

So anyway, there we were at the venue last Saturday afternoon when I head someone mention that some instances call for formal writing, and some for informal writing. Ooookaayyy. I think this is, ummm, BS. (Of course, I didn't say that upfront. I was raised right. I'll just write about it behind her back.) Why do you even have to differentiate between these two? Why can't we just pay attention to how effective our writing is, instead of being conscious whether to go formal or informal? Consider:

(1)
Dear Andrei Nikolayevich,
Please be informed that the meeting scheduled today has been postponed to Friday, 29 June. Please be guided accordingly.

(2)
Dear Gaius Julius Hyginus,
Today's meeting is postponed to Friday, 29 June.

I'm guessing that many people would say that the first example is formal in tone, and the second isn't. Why? Who the hell knows. Perhaps it's the number of words, no? And there's the use of "please." Also, the second sentence bugs me. As if without it, people would be acting, like, without guidance or whatever. I'd go with the second example all the time. You don't even need to tell people that you're informing them. The idea of your sentence is the information itself. When they read it, they're informed. The first example is just dumb, and it perpetuates the idea that being wordy is completely fine.

I'm not saying that the first example is formal. I hate labels. I prefer to think of it as smart writing. It's the kind of writing that people feel comfortable using. One tip I give to people when they're writing to someone is to imagine themselves right in front of the person they're writing to. So it doesn't make sense to say, "Hello, Heraclitus. This is to acknowledge receipt of your invoice sent via email last Thursday." You don't say that in real life, yes? (If you do, I'll poke your eyes out or scoop them with a spoon.) Just go with, "Hello, Babichenkovich. I received your invoice last Thursday." Acknowledge. Receipt. Nauseated.

Anyway, The Elements of Style. I love that book. That book has guided me when I was starting out with my career as an editor. I didn't know anything back then. (I'm a science major; I thought genitives had something to do with penises and vaginas.) I love how the rules are in black and white. There aren't even any explanations for some of them. Interestingly, this was one of the points raised during the discussion—how the authors didn't include any reason for coming up with these rules. But to include those additional sections would just fatten up TEoS. Its pocket size is one of the things that people love about it.

A good friend mentioned that we can group people based on the way we communicate. I forget the exact five groups, but it has something to do with those who are direct, those who put emotion in their writing, and those in-between. He said that I'd probably be in the first group. You think? I can recall the countless times I just replied to an email with "noted" or "gotcha" or "thanks." (You didn't really think I'd reply with, "Thank you for your email. This has been duly noted"? I'd prefer to eat my own barf.) Thank goodness for emojis. Now I can be really extra cheerful and positive and bright and sunshiny by putting a smiley face after "noted." And if I wanna throw people off, I'd use the eggplant emoji. Because nothing confuses people more than being reminded of a schlong. They might probably think, "Does he have a big penis? Is he thinking of penetration?" Newp. I just wanna make a ratatouille.

The best piece of advice from Strunk & White
Because being wordy is evil.

Why the book club may or may not break the bank

For the past 7 years, I've been part of this wonderful little group known as a book club. Now when I mention this bit to people, I'm sure they imagine a group of lonely, pseudo intellectuals who engage in cerebral masturbation. Or a motley assortment of persons who are just bored out of their lives and just want to talk about the stuff they've read. Or probably a gathering of snobs who meet to sneer at what the rest of the world is reading.

I guess these thoughts have a grain of truth in them, however small. And I guess I've committed a few instances of book snobbery every now and then. (I've read all the Twilight books and I hated them all after finishing them. I bashed it like there's no tomorrow. But if it got lots of people to read, then Twilight is our "savior," yes? Now I love, love, love Twilight. Ditto Fifty Shades of Grey. Ditto all those young adult vampire/werewolf/angel/fairy novels.)

No self-respecting wide reader would say that he or she wouldn't come close to a book just because it's at the top of the bestseller list. Come on, that's just plain stupid. Thinking that "literary" novels are better than genre novels (romance, sci-fi and fantasy, horror, thriller) just reeks of elitism. Just gag me with a spoon.

But I digress, and I believe that I'm writing about the book club. If there's one thing that the book club has something going for it, it's that it'll force reading materials down your throat. And some of these books belong to the kind that you've been staying away from all your life. So let me share some of the books we've read and talked about through the years, dear reader. And let's begin with 2012, the year I started taking pictures of all our books of the month.

2012

2012 was heavy on the classics. We read The Count of Monte Cristo, The House of Mirth, and Noli Me Tangere. I particularly enjoyed TCoMC, which was basically a revenge story. Also, Ready Player One was a blast; R. moderated it, and it was one of the best attended discussions of the club. Interesting story: it was I who forced RPO down R.'s throat; I just knew that he'd like it.

From this set, I was disappointed with Diana Wynne Jones's Howl's Moving Castle. I died of boredom. Perhaps I was expecting too much from it, which is due to the terrific movie adaptation by Hayao Miyazaki. Also, Habibi got the group divided. I enjoyed it though. Also The Geography of Bliss, which is like a wonderful travel book of the world's happiest and least happy countries. Looking back, 2012 was a good year, reading wise.

2013

2013 had me co-moderating Stephen King's Night Shift with R. We had the book discussion at a very old house in Manila, and made sure that the discussion went into the early evening hours. You know, just for that creepy feel. From this set, I enjoyed Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment, Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, Gaiman's Season of Mists, which is part of the Sandman graphic novels.

I had mixed feelings about Vonnegut's The Sirens of Titan. It's well written, of course, but it didn't pull me in like what Cat's Cradle and Slaughterhouse Five did. The discussion for Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game was an interesting one. The novel was unquestionably thrilling; however, the author's homophobic remarks have put a dark cloud over it. Can you really separate an author's work from his personal beliefs? 

2014

2014 was the year I faced so many challenges, so I was able to attend only a few book club events. It was also the year we tackled our first audio book, Bill Bryson's Neither Here Nor There: Travels in Europe. The book club even went away out of town for the weekend just for the discussion. I just came out of the hospital at that time, so I wasn't able to go.

Another first for the book club was our discussion on the screenplay of a classic Filipino movie, Sa Puso ng Himala by Ricky Lee. Orly, the moderator, even had a short screenplay writing workshop at the end of the discussion. I couldn't get into Neville's The Eight though. I found it too slow and ridden with a lot of details. But I will always have a soft spot for Morgenstern's The Night Circus. It will always be one of the most magical and romantic novels that I've ever read.

I didn't read that much last year. All I remember was I hungry most of the time. 

2015

So now we get to 2015. And still I haven't been reading that much. What's surprising is that I'm not bothered by this at all. Still, I'm glad that early this year, we discussed the works of one of my favorite writers, Ernest Hemingway. Who doesn't love a handsome guy who could write? And then there's Levithan's Boy Meets Boy, which I think everyone should read. It's just so damn beautiful.

I'm not really looking forward to reading Harper Lee's Go Set a Watchman. I didn't even plan to buy a copy. (The hardcover in the picture was given to me as a gift.) How the book came to be published just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

More and more people from the book club don't buy the print versions anymore. They prefer the (gasp!) the ebooks. I love paper so much, that I can't bear the thought of reading a story on a screen. I'm not going to get into the ebook vs. print thing though. (It's moot and academic.) Both versions get people to read, so everything's fine by me. What bugs me is that books are getting more and more expensive. And that, dear readers, is a topic for another day.

Why pens will be my ruin

I think I have a pen fetish. Or I probably am a pen hoarder. Gel pens, sign pens, fountain pens, felt-tipped pens. I couldn't get enough of them. I

I draw the line at ballpoints though. I've never been really a fan of them. Perhaps it has something to do with my pressing on the paper too hard with the pen, so I usually crack the tip of the ballpoint. And if a ballpoint falls and hits the floor with its tip, it's practically useless.

My love for a good, hefty pen got me thinking—what if I try out calligraphy? That craft makes use of pens, right? Besides, most of my friends keep telling me that I'd be a natural at it because of my handwriting. Hmmm . . . .

So I got me some calligraphy pens and just winged it. And that was the biggest mistake of my life. Argh! I never knew that it was so hard! All those lines, serifs, holding the pen at certain angles, descenders, ascenders, versals, gothics, and what have you.

Quite an interesting read, this book is.
It even has bits on the history of calligraphy.

Here are a few of my early attempts. I used no lines as guides, no fancy paper, just cheap calligraphy pens. So saying that these leave a lot to be desired is an understatement.

I guess I was too excited for the weekend.

Just for clarification: this  is "woot!" and not "woop!"

Getting comfortable angling the pen

And aren't weekend craft fairs just lovely? You end up buying cute and kitschy stuff. And only when you're headed home do you realize that you bought stuff that you have actually no need whatsoever. Oh well . . . .

Pens fit so satisfyingly in this pouch.

Also, last weekend was when the book club discussed Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner's SuperFreakonomics. So yes, I'm still squeezing in some reading. But here's a confession: I didn't really get to read this one; I listened to the audiobook, which was wonderfully read by Dubner.

Aren't audiobooks great? They let you multitask. Now you can finish a book while driving, having sex, feasting on a buffet, picking your nose, and in my case, coloring pages. It took a while for me to get comfortable dividing my attention between holding a crayon and understanding what Dubner is saying. When I started, I had to "rewind" the audio just to be able to completely understand the topic. (Hey, is "rewind" the correct term here? Somehow, it reminds me of a cassette tape or VHS.)

Anyway, SuperFreakonomics isn't as a good as the first one, which I found really fun and brought a lot of a-ha moments. This book, which was published in 2009, just felt watery. There isn't enough substance in this book for it to become credible. It's as if Levitt and Duber were rushing to publish another book even though they didn't have enough material. For shame!

Books like these should be able to surprise you, to offer something that you can use during dinner party conversations. Reading SuperFreakonomics made me blurt out, "But I already knew that!" or "Of course! That's just common sense!"

The book is still an enjoyable read, and I would recommend it to economics enthusiasts. The authors do make it a point to integrate economics principles into the essays as  much as possible. But, but, but: I couldn't forgive them for making a false statement about global warming. (Water vapor is not the most significant greenhouse gas; it still is carbon dioxide. Come on!)

Why you should never, ever join a book club

Warning: This post contains some pictures taken a few years ago. So be prepared to see more than a few pics of a chubby KyusiReader. You've been warned.

The books that we talked about for the past 4 years
The big picture on the left is this year's selections.
The three smaller pictures on the right are from 2012 (top) to 2014 (bottom).

I do wish that I could go back to 2008 and never have attended my first meet-up with the book club Flips Flipping Pages. Now that was the biggest mistake of my life, I tell you. And that book club has the absolute worst kind of people that you could possibly meet.

First, they'll make you wear silly hats and come in crazy costumes. I have no idea how hats, capes, masks, etc. are relevant to book discussions. Whoever thought that this was a good idea is an a--hole. Why oh why would you subject yourself to such trivial pursuits?

During our Noli Me Tangere-themed Christmas party
How shallow can these people get?
Stupid parties . . .

During the A Game of Thrones discussion
Just because I love AGoT doesn't mean that I have to come in costume!
Oh, the humanity!

During The Godfather-themed Christmas party
It's bad enough that I have to wear a silly hat;
they make R wear one too!

During the discussion on Howl's Moving Castle
If you don't see the connection between my hat and the book, don't worry.
I don't see it either.

During the steampunk-and-Poe themed party
R was forced to make our costumes for the party.
And, true story, I really am drunk in this picture.

Second, they make you meet authors whose books you have no strong feelings on. Now let me tell you, these authors wouldn't want to meet their readers anyway. If they have good social skills, they wouldn't be writers, spending all day in front of the computer.

There were quite a few occasions when I had to endure the pain of meeting these uninteresting personalities. So boring, these meet-and-greet instances are. I'd much rather chew razor blades than meet another author.

Meet-up with Gilda Cordero-Fernando
Oy lady! We know that you're 83 years old.
You don't have to shove all your youthful vigor and zest for life in our tired faces.

Attending Bebang Siy's wedding
There's food, dancing, musical performances, and a short film. Yawn, yawn.
And it was even a book-ish wedding with books as decor. How uninspired.

Third, and what do we get to read? Well, such unintelligible drivel such as books published in the 19th century, books with controversial themes, and novels that defy genre conventions. Now why on Earth would you read those?

What we usually read are so inexplicable that they can't even hold a candle to the bestselling Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy by E. L. James. Wouldn't it be nicer to read novels with a straightforward story and cookie cutter characters? We're not literature students, for crying out loud.

The Count of Monte Cristo
Boring.
Watch the movie adaptation instead.

The Left Hand of Darkness
Confusing.
Characters with no genders! Why, we can't have that!

The Sirens of Titan
Pretentious.
All those allusions to classical mythology are pointless.

Fourth, these book club people—they eat a lot. My goodness, you should see how much these people eat. It's as if they're not fed enough at home. It's embarrassing to be seen with them in a restaurant, really.

And I blame them for my having gained a lot of pounds ever since I joined in 2008. How can I not? These people have no fear of calories.

During the food trip at Chinatown
And they forced me to wear read because it's the Chinese New Year
Cliché.

At the early morning Mercato Centrale food trip
After this, there was even a wine tasting thing in the afternoon.
Lord, help me.

At the Pampanga food trip
These people aren't even satisfied to just eat here in the city.
I had to endure a two-hour drive to Pampanga with these gluttons.

Persian dinner at a member's house
So you get invited to dinner and eagerly anticipate the steak and potatoes.
But hell no. What you'll have instead are elaborate home-cooked dishes.

Fifth, they're the ugliest bunch of people that you'll ever meet in your whole life. Well, I guess that's a good thing in a way, as being with them makes you feel such a paragon of pulchritude. Seriously, I would give each of them a free makeover. But I guess they're not just ugly; they're clueless too.

It's a good thing that meet-ups are held where there aren't that too many people. If one of my friends sees me with any one from the book club, then let the ground swallow me up whole. Thank goodness that meet-ups are just once a month.

With ugly people from the book club (except for R)
These are probably the ugliest of the bunch.

With an ugly person up-close
Dimples are so overrated.

Sixth, they'll give you totally useless stuff. If they really understand you, they'd just give you money, right? But no, they'll give you things that'll just clutter your room. Absolutely no effing value whatsoever.

Like this caricature made by Ajie
Don't you think that she's making fun of my book hoarding sensibilities?
And I think she's mocking me. I don't have this kind of upper arm strength.

And I got this from Marie last Christmas.
She told me that she spent hours doing this scarf.
I just don't buy it.

Seventh, they make you do stupid things. Over and over again. Take a look.

They're just not as passionate talking about books as I am.

They hold this totally useless gift wrapping workshop.
And when I made this perfectly wrapped box, they made fun of it.

They force you to come out of the closet.

They make you do these stupid over-the-top beach jump shots.

Jump shots that can literally injure you
Really, all that blood!

They molest you.

They organize these outreach programs with street children,
when all you really want to do is just stay in bed and read.

They make you attend prom all over again.

For some reason, a lot of them are into Doctor Who.
And this "doctor" has this screwdriver.
Whatever.

They constantly ask me, "Who's Gatsby?"

They make you drink wine.

Seriously, you're better off being on your own. Whoever said that being in a book club enriches your reading experience is crazy.