The Selling Machine

Every time I opened my inbox eighty little clingy hands were reaching for me. Look at this. Think about that. Remember! Buy now! Read me PLEASE. Don’t you dare forget about us!” Rainier Wylde

Found this little corner in the Upper West Side.

Shall we go analog for autumn?

By: Gabriela Yareliz

The autumnal temps continue. The sky stays overcast and stormy, despite no present rain. The rain is coming, allegedly.

I scored a seat on the train today, which is a nice addition to the morning routine. Maybe I will finish my current book. Just three chapters left.

There is something about autumn that makes me want to shut off all overhead lights and scribble into a notebook. It makes me want to hold books and eat soup. I mean let’s be real— j always want to read books. It’s a syndrome I am not looking to cure.

The other night, I was expecting a work email, and I continued checking my inbox into the evening. I found myself irritated with myself. Is it just me or is the constant access to ourselves and people just irritating?

I have found myself tired of anxiously checking my own phone.

My goal for this season is to make more phone calls and to also check my inboxes a lot less. It’s a season of refresh and slowing down. It might as well also be the season of unsubscribing from emails and closing apps. I am doing inbox cleanups. Join me in closing apps and getting off of listservs.

They won’t miss you. Most of what is online just wants to sell you something. You can use a break from the selling machine. And everything else can wait.

Published by Gabriela Yareliz

Gabriela is a writer, editor and attorney. She loves the art of storytelling, and she is based in NYC.

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