Okay not so random, even though I’ve been putting “Random” before I start talking about this thing… Figured that the reason why my stats shot up was due to my linking Malaysiakini in that particular post, which is why I unlinked it. Don’t want to get traffic from there. And I very much doubt those people who read Malaysiakini would want to read my blog. After all, it’s not news or very political. Heck, I haven’t even finished my stupid entry on petrol prices. Every time I look at it, I feel frustrated. I should tweak it and publish it, I suppose. Oh, I don’t know… Anyway, back to the main topic.

A few days ago, a friend called me. She wanted to talk, and from what she said, I’m guessing that she wanted to talk to me specifically. Or more specific, the non-judgmental part of me. I was happy. To her, I was known as a non-judgmental, supportive friend. That’s what I strive to be, and I usually assume that I’m successful. Which is why it bothers me so much when people say I’m racist. It is worse when the said person is racist him/herself. I freely admit that I am a “Catholicist”, but apart from that…

However, today I woke up, I realize, I’m judgmental. Maybe I’m not judgmental on the areas that the said friend wanted to talk about, but I’m judgmental on privileged people. That’s how I’m trained to be; make life tougher for privileged people, but try to make life much easier for the underprivileged.

Or more like, discriminate the privileged…

Or maybe I just don’t like her because she has done something that I doubt I can.

Or maybe I hate her because a fellow countrywoman of hers was the one that undermined my confidence in writing. (I’m sorry, Faliq)

Or maybe it’s because of my sometimes “feminist” feelings (urgh, scares the hell out of me. I hate feminists, and actually turning into one??? Oh my…) that made me just chuck her amongst the other chic lit writers. I hate chic lits since I started uni. Do you realize that a lot of “chic lit” books always have the main character in this rather privileged life? Like that’s what sane women would only want to be; live a life with a lot of designer goods, living in Manhattan or London or whatever other privileged town (which should have warned me it would be unlikely to find in her home country; it’s not as if I haven’t been to their biggest city). Still… you never know. Surely her fellow countrymen could wear designer goods, right? Surely her father does, what with being a former prime minister and all.

Ahh… you might have figured out I’m talking about Cecelia Ahern.

Maybe I shouldn’t judge a book by its author. I hardly do; I would always read bits n pieces of the book before I buy it. Unless people were raved/criticized the book… then I’ll just simply buy it and judge it for myself. An author I would really want to get my hands on on any of his books–or at least his fiction books–would be Alexander McCall Smith, or Professor McCall Smith. I chose to include the link from the University of Edinburgh’s School of Law’s page on him instead of his website’s. I’ve cited his book in my Health Care essay, only to realize that there’s a newer edition of the book, which he did not contribute to. Bahh. Anyway, my tutor seem to not like him. I’m curious why, as he doesn’t seem to be the jealous type or one that care about other people. I have yet to read any of his fiction books, but it’ll have to wait. I need to finish the books I actually own first.

I suppose my mom’s policy of trying to not make the rich richer has made me judge Ahern without knowing the contents of her book. I assumed that she would definitely only write chic lits with their designer clothing and falling for some equally rich guy and live a happy life full of love. Oh, the good looking husband would not think of having an affair with a younger person when she gets older. Impossible; he loves her after all. Maybe that’s why I like the Tea House on Mulberry Street. The character has made mistakes before they settled with their loved ones. Sounds more realistic, right?

Anyway, I doubt I made Ahern richer anyway. The original price of the book is 6.99 quid but I got it for 1.67 quid at the Works. You know, those 3 for 5 quid books? Yeah, didn’t pay much. I think that was why I bought the book. I bought it in my first year of uni. I already started hating chic lits.

I started reading the book yesterday; If You Could See Me Now. I’m only on chapter 5, but I’ve realized that this is not really a chic lit. Oh, the lady is an OCD. I keep imagining she’s you, Beda, but I can’t, for the life of me, imagine any of your younger siblings leaving you a child for you to take care. Also, Elizabeth Egan is too sad to be you. Just, the OCD part. Hehe. I know you would love to be her though…

Oh, the lady drives a BMW, but to concentrate on those would be silly when the story really is interesting, yes?

And checking the wiki article on the book and amazon.co.uk, I know, the book is not a chic lit that I despise.

I am absolutely disappointed with myself that I’ve turned into someone I despise. Judging people before I give them a chance. I should change, regardless of my “training”.

Maybe that’s why I abhor myself. I lead a rather privileged life. I could get anything if I wanted to. And in my eyes, it is a curse rather than a blessing.

The worst thing is that I don’t usually start from the bottom. And I don’t know what to do about it.

Regardless, the lesson is learned. If I want to see how people write, I shouldn’t close my mind to their books to see their talent just because of who they are.

I am absolutely sorry, Miss Ahern.

And I know she wouldn’t even know my feelings to me anyway, but it makes me feel better, saying it.

PS: Her father is said to be a “practicing” Catholic, but it is not true. At least, he is not a practicing Catholic in my eyes. Catholicism is just… weird…

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