Outing Myself

Outing Myself


Sometimes, no, often, nope, daily, I get overwhelmed inside my wonderful life.
It’s wonderful on paper, and I juggle as fast as I can to keep up the charade.
It’s nothing that is overtly obvious, but I know that this house of cards could come crashing down at any minute. That, or my head will explode. I’m not certain which will come first, so I think I’ll just out myself, with the knowledge that I’m probably not alone.

Are you waiting for some epic admission? Too bad.
It’s nothing major, just SO MANY little things that add up. Like dripping water on my forehead.

I have many addictions. Thankfully, they will NOT be the death of me……unless I slip and fall on melted chocolate.
But some of them frustrate the hell out of me.

I have a coffee table book addiction. I have since before I owned a coffee table.
Between those and all the novels and best sellers, it looks like a freaking library in here. Here’s the thing. If I divide how many hours I’ve been alive by the hours it would take to read all these books….it’s never gonna happen. Most are partially read. I can see scraps of paper sticking out that I grabbed and used as a bookmark, half or three quarters of the way through.
I will need to reincarnate to get caught up.

I also confess to a magazine addiction and I have the good fortune to have numerous subscriptions. I’ve even culled the lot, trying to be realistic about what feels relevant enough to take the time to read. No more Allure or People for me. Alas, the stack still grows larger and more daunting by the day. It’s like they posses the ability to reproduce. One Elle Decor turns into three, and when I look again; there are five. Same with my O magazines. I have every unread issue back to January, which I briefly scanned and became aware of the fact that I hadn’t lost that “pesky ten pounds of holiday weight,” because I hadn’t yet read the article.

Why do I even continue to get the decorating or “shelter” magazines? My lifestyle store closed, and my house is decorated within an inch of its life. It is not realistic for me to lust after a house in Marrakech or to muse over a $4000 toilet. My favorite shelter mags were Domino and Better Homes And Gardens, and they went out of business. So now I’m left with House Beautiful and Elle Decor. House Beautiful still has too much chintz for my taste, and Elle Decor can be annoying. Like a super model telling me she can eat whatever she wants and never work out or diet. They make fabulous look too easy.

To further prove my inadequacy, there is a stack of unread books on my night stand.
It includes Fifty Shades of Grey. Sadly, I can’t even find time for the lady porn.
All I’m going to say is: I start out with the best of intentions. I want to stay current, and sound smart at parties. I can’t remember the last time I read the book BEFORE I saw the movie. Sometimes I lie.
There must be 25-30 partially read books on my iPad. If I start reading one of those before bed, the others, on the nightstand, stage a mutiny. There must be some kind of seniority or Union I’m not aware of. 

When I really want to rub salt in my wounds, I glance over at the pile of unopened mail. Nothing important, really; no checks or anything. I have a way of sniffing those out.
Nope, the pile consists mostly of health insurance notifications. If Anthem doesn’t have a check in its hot little hands on the first of every month, they send me a notification that I’ve entered a 30 day grace period. It’s my little game.
I have an automatic payment set to pay them on the third.
Fuck em. I like living in a state of perpetual grace.

The rest of the pile is just stuff that needs to get filed…….when I’m good and ready.

I realize these are “white people problems”. I’m too busy writing to read.
Oh, Boo Hoo.
It makes me laugh when I get plugged up about this stuff because I realize how fortunate I am to not have to worry about clean water or my immediate survival. That is, until the nightstand books, that unsavory bunch, figure out how to kill me while I sleep.

What are the things that pile up around you and drive you crazy? Do YOU have stacks of unread books ,magazines and mail? Any suggestions to quell my addiction? I’d LOVE some suggestions!



My version of life. My stories. Told in my own words.

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