Recently my friend Aaron, who’s an absolute clothes horse but is also trying to minimize, gifted me several pairs of shoes. (Lucky for me we’re the same size.) Y’all, in one night, he doubled my collection. “Some of them are kind of beat up,” he said, “but they should clean up nicely.” Well, last night and today I went to work scrubbing, washing, and polishing one pair at a time, and Aaron was right. They’re going to work out just fine. Are they pristine/perfect? No, but they’re pretty swell.

Thanks, Aaron.

Lately I’ve been talking about how everything falls apart sooner or later, and yesterday I referred to physical objects as mirages. That is, you can spiff up your kicks with a new set of laces, but don’t fool yourself, it’s days are numbered. If it’s on this earth, it was designed–to dissolve. This means NOTHING is pristine/perfect.

I hate this as much as you do.

In an effort to accommodate all my new days-numbered footwear, this afternoon I added a shelf to my closet by taking a metal shelf from our garage and attaching it to the wooden shelves I already have. And whereas my dad said it looks tacky because all the shelves don’t match, I figure I’m the one who has to look at it and, although I certainly appreciate excellence in craftsmanship and would adore something fancier, it’s better than heaping my shoes on top of one another. What’s the saying? It’s good enough. Plus, since we didn’t have any spare wooden shelves lying around, I’m rather proud of myself for solving my storage dilemma without having to spend any money.

You know, I’m living–wait for it–on a shoestring budget.

One thing I’ve been thinking and meaning to write about lately is the idea that just as physical objects are mirages, so are we. And whereas I mean that our days are numbered too, I also mean that every day we get up, get dressed, and put on a show. We hide this body “flaw,” we cover up that emotion. With makeup, with jewelry, with a new pair of shoes. People ask us how we’re doing, and we smile and say, “Couldn’t be better. Finer than frog hair.” Even if we’re falling part. And whereas I don’t think there’s anything wrong with putting your best foot forward, lately I’ve been reminding myself to not automatically assume someone else is “better” than me or has their shit together just because they have their outfit together. Just because they say they’re great. You know, don’t compare your inside to someone else’s outside.

Because you never know what’s going on with someone.

This evening I flipped through a copy of GQ Magazine, and y’all, some of the clothes those celebrities wear cost more than I make in a month. In one photo Jennifer Lopez was sporting a necklace that cost as much as our house. My point being that especially in a magazine largely supported by advertisers, these images are mirages, illusions specifically crafted and designed to make us feel and believe that we’d be better off (sexier, happier, more lovable) if only we had THOSE clothes or THAT life. Now, I don’t fault them for doing this, since we do this to each other all the time. Wouldn’t you be better off with a wooden shelf instead of a metal one? Or married, pregnant, with a job, or in a different city? And so on. Instead of just being happy with the way things are right there, right now.

Instead of just being happy with the way YOU are right here, right now.