Other Worldly

At 40 years, Adelaide Raines allowed herself to take a personal inventory.  She knew she wasn’t well educated or even that well rounded by any means.  She knew her limitations.  She read what interested her and had little patience for all else, regardless of the subject matter’s import to current events, or its impact on the survival of humanity.

Every evening she would drown any possibility of self-analysis during her 30 drive from work with the tap of her iPod.  She’d make progress in the most recent audiobook she borrowed from the library and add it to her “read” list along with those she read the old fashioned way (on her Kindle) on the weekends.  She dedicated her time away from work (the lifelong mission that stole nine or ten hours of her life away, five or six days a week) to either escaping those elements of her life that she subconsciously abhorred through Netflix therapy, or some monotonous computer game that appealed to her mild touch of OCD.  In this way she could avoid thinking about the parts known as the end, the beginning, or anything in between in her life.

This left her roughly an hour to read something daily that would lend itself to one of the two facets of her personal image of herself.  If prolonging the inevitable through escapism, she would indulge in some fictional tome of mystery, science fiction, or other imaginative literary work.  If developing her knowledge of the world that existed when she chose to breath outside her house, she dove into a history, science, or other non-fiction work.  The key was that it had to be interesting.  Ultimately, reading was always an escape.  So fiction or not, it had to take her somewhere else.

Thus, she knew just enough to impress the average and sometimes even those more knowledgeable than her in those occasional conversations encountered when personalities meet, crash, or slide around each other in the bubble of to-and-fro called “day-to-day.”  This was all she needed to survive amongst others more emotionally stable and confident that herself.  It was what she referred to privately as “fool fuel.”  She could fake it to make it among the humans.  And she did.


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