a long series of questions?

But why? Why have I been experiencing frequent headaches, when I usually NEVER get them? Why do I keep catching myself clenching my teeth, grinding them along to songs in my head, to books I'm reading, to nothing but the irritation in itself?

If I had anti-anxiety meds, I'd be popping them right now. The best part is that I don't really know why I need them, just that I need them. Hmph. Anxiety begets itself? Don't know.

I put 64 books on sale at Amazon's Marketplace yesterday. That place runs quite the racket - I can't believe how much they charge the seller! It makes sense though - they get a LOT of traffic, and gotta make a buck one way or another, right?  Well I've sold five books already, so there's your answer. A little bit of extra cash in my pocket is better than a bookcase full of old books that I've either NEVER read, TRIED reading but hated, or read and will never read again. Do I want to drag these things around with me for all eternity, dead weight while I continue to relocate and travel? Do I need an old, yet still pristine copy of Don DeLillo's Cosmopolis, when I didn't like it all that much in the first place? Do I want to hold onto that copy of Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army , which I purchased in a fit of enthusiasm after being assigned the military occupational specialty of 0402, Logistics Officer, but never, ever got past page six of? (poor sentence structure aside, I still had the bookmark on page six to prove it!)

Point proven I hope...

And on that topic, in the past week I've been experiencing a purging wave. I have torn through closets and chests of drawers, filling a huge garbage bag with old clothes. I have inundated Amazon's Marketplace with spoils from my bookcases and closets... But why? All this since I returned from Morocco. Is this my kneejerk reaction to living a slightly more austere life, after living from a suitcase? From living in a country where many make use of more from less? Did I see my jam packed shelves and closets as a sign of gluttony? Was I ashamed of it? Or, and I vote for this theory, did I come home and see these shelves and closets, full to the brim with useless stuff, as dead weight? Did I feel weighted down, mired by my possessions which, by and large, do me no good? (J. Crew chinos, with broken zipper, from five years ago) (brick red Anthropologie trousers, never worn, from 4 years ago) (5 American Apparel long sleeve t-shirts that just. don't. work), etc.

Am I getting carried away? Taking over-excessive delight in seeing shelf space open up, drawers close properly for the first time ever, room to properly store and organize capris and art history texts? Will I regret, and find myself re-purchasing books and tees? Lets hope not.

I refuse to touch my shoe closet. That's all I'll say about that.

So maybe I'm cleaning house. Maybe I'm experiencing an existential crisis that I'll regret a few months down the line. I just know that I don't mind having the slight income coming into my USAA bank account, paying for small luxuries like local-grown watermelon, cooling in the fridge, slices of pizza and beers with good friends, and maybe (ooh, conundrum!), new books!

I recently ordered (from Amazon!!):

Skinny Legs and All
The Sheltering Skyand
The Caliph's House 

I'm pretty excited. I bought them new. I hope I don't find myself selling them back in a few short weeks.

I am still clenching my teeth. Nerds.