On Things I Love, but Don’t Love that I Love

Audrey
6 min readFeb 14, 2018

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I hate the term “guilty pleasure” because if I take pleasure in something, why on earth would I undercut that by qualifying it, or assigning guilt to it?

Felt like a roses kind of day

Give me puns! Give me Dr. Who and Star Wars and Star Trek and video game let’s plays and tabletop games and anime and web comics and Modernist Literature! I will get weirdly specific and deeply passionate about all of those topics, and more.

Is it even February 14 if you don’t post a picture of a red rose? Is it really?

My favorite part about being a nerd is it the unabashed, unashamed passion with which we love the things we love. But this is an anti-holiday, a consumerism-based holiday; it’s a holiday defined by comparison and guilt and excess and fomo and expectations, and it’s also the beginning of lent (when you give up things that you love to meditate on grace and suffering), so could there be a better time to talk about things that I love, but don’t love that I love?

I doubt it.

1. Edeka latte espresso’s. I’m am drinking one right now, as I write this. They’re little pre-made lattes in the refrigerator section of my local supermarket. It’s unbelievably stupid that I love these things so much. It’s just coffee! I can make coffee at home for less money! And it’s less wasteful! Why on earth do I buy them? (They’re tasty, and easy, and they’re fair trade, which assuages some of the guilt, and cold coffee is just wonderful… and it would take time to brew and then chill if I were going to make it at home, and coffee isn’t something I’m patient about… so that’s why. But I really should make my own. And I will. Not for lent, just because I really should.)

2. Chocolate. I often speculate that my life would be better if I just lost the taste for chocolate, but realistically the only way that would happen is if I had my tongue removed or cauterized, or if I acquired a taste for something stronger, like heroine. No thanks.

3. YouTube binging. I’ve written before about not having wifi in my apartment, and how it significantly improves my productivity, but the truth is: it wouldn’t impact my productivity practically at all if YouTube didn’t exist. YouTube is where my time and my attention go to die, screaming that I should regret all of my life choices. But, it’s also where I hear music I love, listen to people share interesting ideas, research things I might want to buy or read or try in my own life, and appreciate artistry in its many forms. What I’m saying is: there’s value there, but it’s a dangerous kind of balance to play with. This month, Vodafone gave out a free gigaboost (100GB!) and suddenly I got a taste of what my life would be like with wifi at home. I got a few things done (booked flights and hotels for upcoming trips, followed up on some email, etc.) but mostly it’s been one, long, 48-hour YouTube binge. This is why I need bizarre, arcane, arbitrary rules by which to govern myself.

Me too, rose. Me, too.

4. Podcasts. This one is not quite guilty, because again, it does add real value to my life, but I sometimes wonder what it’s costing me. I love a podcast on a long flight (some favorites being Reply All, Flash Forward, and all the true crime podcasts I can get my hands on) because it passes the time like a TV series without the bulky screen, and you can rest your eyes, or play solitaire on your phone, or walk up and down the aisle, all without compromising your entertainment experience. But, I also tend to listen to them when I take long walks, and as a result I miss the mindfulness of that experience. I wonder what I’m missing when I tune out my brain during those periods. It’s nice when my brain is panicking or moaning to give it something to focus on, but sometimes my brain just wants to be heard, you know? It’s got things to say.

5. Planting plants. So, in case you haven’t gleaned from my complete and utter lack of plant posts, my little plants died. I left them with a caretaker and they did not survive that experience. I enjoy planting things, but I travel, and they die, and I feel bad about that. Like with chocolate, it would be easier if I just didn’t like it so much. But this, too is a slippery slope for speculation. I just was talking to a friend yesterday about what I call ‘itchy thoughts’ (those little thoughts that nag at the back of your brain, that irritate you; they’re usually nonsense, or utter and complete bad judgement, or hurtful, negative meanness that serves no purpose whatsoever) because we’re both writing stories that have to do with those kinds of thoughts, and she said something truly profound about the experience of being an angry teenager and/or young adult (which we both were, and have to choose not to be most days): “If you’re always angry, you don’t get itchy thoughts.” And it’s true, which is why I think it’s so tempting to give in an be angry and wish you didn’t love things that are hard to love, but it’s also a shitty way to live your life. It’s what the itchy thoughts want you to do, but it’s not worth it, not at all. I’ll take being a nerd and a bit of a contradiction any day, and someday I will be a nerd with a garden. (I still have my fluffy purple plant; he’s a trooper.)

I want to sing “painting the roses red”

6. This blog. It’s a thing, man. It’s out there on the internet, attached to my real name. Sometimes I really wish it wasn’t. My dad reads it, my grandfather reads it, and sometimes other people read it, but not often. I write like someone is reading it, and sometimes that seems strange, and the writing feels personal and embarrassing and redundant and dry and gimmicky and just all the itchy thoughts, they itch and itch and beg me to be angry and to shut it all down. But, then I write and post anyway. I have a feeling I’m going to love having this in a few years, or decades, to remember being this age, in this city, with this particular set of thoughts itching at my mind like ravenous lice. So, even if I don’t love this blog passionately and unabashedly every day, even if I don’t hunger for it the way I hunger for quick, cold caffeine, I anticipate there will be a day in the future, between now and the inevitable heat death of the universe, when I will. Maybe in a few dozen years, when I’m reading it in my garden, drinking some excellent and sustainable homemade cold brew coffee.

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Audrey

Bilingual, dual-citizen, and reluctant 20-something.