No representation of the things that I carry would ever be complete without a comprehensive understanding that I carry almost everything under the sun with me, in my bottomless pit of a purse.
For a little perspective: when I babysit, a game I often play I’ve named: “what's in Emma's purse?” The beauty of this game lies in the fact that sometimes, we spend a good half hour going through my purse. This means that for an entire half hour, I don’t have to come up with any interesting ideas about what to do, I don’t have to do anything but explain why on Earth I have the items that I have in my purse.
For the purpose of this article, I decided to play a game of “what’s in Emma’s purse?” and dumped the contents of my purse onto my floor. After doing this, I seriously began to contemplate whether or not this would be worth the article. However, I’m an extremely stubborn person, so I refuse to give this one up. So, here we go… Although I feel the need to disclaim that I’m not a hoarder, I just honestly never bother sorting through my purse.
There are 27 pens/pencils in my purse. Exactly 27. Who needs 27 pens/pencils ever in their life? Me. I love to write, so whenever I leave the house I put a pen or pencil nearby into my purse if I think about it, always managing to forget I already have a small army of them. Woops. Now, even though this is entirely unnecessary and seems excessive, I never ever seem to have a pen when I need one… How? I have no idea.
I also have rosin in my purse. For those of you who aren’t string-instrument players, rosing is a sticky type substance we rub on our bow hairs to help them grip the strings. I don’t really carry my violin with me often enough to warrant having this in my purse, especially because my violin case has its own rosin container in it. I mean, I could say that it holds sentimental value, since I got it as a present from my former violin instructor. However, this would be far too rational. No, the reason my rosin is still in my purse is because one time, one singular time, the rosin became useful. I used to play at open mic nights locally a lot, and one night, a woman was planning to play an electric violin. She was frantic before her performance, though, because her bow wasn’t sounding right and she couldn’t find her rosin. I triumphantly produced my rosin from my purse (rather heroically if I do say so myself). That moment of triumph validated me, so now it’s in my purse for the foreseeable future.
Some of my more mundane items in my purse include: chapstick, tissues, lipstick, hand lotion, hand sanitizer, and my wallet. Those ones are fairly boring though.
7 movie ticket stubs litter the bottom of my purse. Some of them I kept on purpose for sentimental purposes and forgot up until now that they were even in there (thank goodness for the “what’s in Emma’s purse?” game!), and others I honestly have no idea why they’re in there.
I’ve got a crap ton of receipts in there as well. Now I say “crap ton” instead of a specific number, because the specific number makes me seem like a crazy person and I consider myself a reasonably sane person. I just always put my receipts in my purse because I can never find a spot in the store to throw them out without seeming rude, and then I forget that they’re in there. Eventually this problem built up to be so excessive that now when I go to empty my purse I just really don’t want anyone to see me throw out my literal crap ton of receipts. I should probably throw them out now.
The purpose of allowing you to peek into the bizarre nature of my purse, and all of the items in it, is simple: establishing personal connection. Now you have a glimpse - through my stuff, and what I choose to carry with me - into my personality. Now it’s your turn if you dare… what’s in your purse? And, if you don’t carry a purse, what do you carry?
