I have two sets of books in my room: one for my coursework, and the other one for leisure.
I have a pile on paperbacks, which I bought from a local bookstore. I haven't read any of those, as I planned to go through it during summer. In these titles, I rediscover my passion for books, why I preferred the company of (dead) authors, and why it kept my dream of being a novelist someday alive (after I completed my BA). Martin, my housemate, was rather perplexed. He thought it wasn't possible to read any of those, as he reminded me of the promise I made the other day, where I would joined him and Daniel on a backpacking trip in Burma and Thailand. There were lots to see, based from what he read in the Internet, so there would be no time for those books. Reading could always wait, I told him, but I wondered if he was right at all.
We planned to travel to the Far East next summer. Not next summer, as I must prepare for my third year, where I'll study French Literature in Marseille.
On the other hand, I have a reading list that I must go through during the term. I often wonder if I have the time for it, as writing and studying take most of my time. In the case of Modernist Literature, for instance, there's the general reading list, which includes selected poems by Hardy, collective plays by Synge, and some novels by Conrad. Then there's the secondary reading list, which can serve as reference (to the general reading list). Last but not the least, the short loan collection (from the library). I wondered if I have a time for all of those books, if browsing was still possible. By Yeats, the pressure. (I wonder if mba coursework was more daunting, but I might not find out.)
I can always visit the bookstore to find an interesting title to add to that growing pile (of paperbacks). Buying makes me feel good, keeps me calm, and helps me handle the pressure. (It can be stressful to try to be one of the best essay writers in the department.)
