2 posts tagged “stuff”

I suppose you might call it Spring Cleaning, but I call it long overdue.  One of the great features of my apartment (apart from high ceilings, hardwood floors, loads of windows, a full-size bathtub, and an excellent location) is the ginormous walk-in closet.  It's an odd L-shape, cupped as it is around my smaller bathroom.  The main body of the closet extends back about 8 feet, with 10' ceilings, and then there's a little cubby about 2' square off to the right at the front.

Th primary closet-rod is about halfway back, with another behind it about 7' off the ground.  What this makes is a generous space to throw shit, out of sight and out of mind, behind the hanging clothes in the inaccessible part of the closet.  For three+ years I've been throwing empty boxes and any odd or end I wanted to keep but never see.  It had gotten to the point that the frontline closet detritus (shoes, bags, cleaning supplies) was beginning to creep forward and closing the door had become a bit of a challenge.  I bought a thingy at Ikea to store towels and linens and I had no choice but to make space for it... so into the depths of the closet I delved.

I knew I had a lot of memorabilia back there, including about 2 reams of letters from my friends in high school, but I had forgotten that I had also stored all of the bits and pieces of my childhood saved by my grandma as well.  One large box packed full of folders containing the likes of 4th grade essays.  I openly lack sentimentality, and I can't imagine what good she thought keeping every school report and drawing I made as a child would do anyone.  I had already thrown out the many locks of my hair she saved from haircuts, and yet somehow I still have a chalk handprint on a napkin made by 2 yr old me.

I come from a family of collectors.  The accumulation of nostalgia has surrounded me since birth, and perhaps it a form of self protection to lack sentimentality.  At the same time, though, I keep stuff.  Almost against my own will.  I have a kitchen cupboard that is packed with empty yogurt containers that might come in handy someday.  I accumulate books and shoes at an alarming rate.  I admire those who can live simply, and I aspire to that state of un-clutter.  Right now I still have some work to do.  However much I get rid of... it's never quite enough. 

Yesterday I was walking to meet a friend for tea and I walked through a couple of yard sales (in my neighborhood, for lack of yards, they usually take over sidewalks).  It struck me that I no longer have any desire for more stuff.  I'd like to replace some things (like my rug-from-hell), but for the most part I have more stuff than I really want.  I would rather get rid of stuff than get new stuff.

I haven't always felt this way.  Growing up poor I always had the sense that access to stuff - better clothes, newer toys, matching curtains and bed-spreads - would complete my life.  As a child I had no conception of the other important things I missed living in a dysfunctional family.  I really convinced myself that my sense of isolation in the world came from not having the right things.

As I grew up I focused a lot of my energy and money on trying to create an identity through my stuff. Shoes, clothes, music, books, knick knacks, furniture.  There is still a part of me trying to find the thing that will bring a sense of complete-ness.  Is it the right lipstick? A new camera? A piece of art? New boots?

All of those things have value, but they do not have the ability to make me satisfied with myself or my life.  Unfortunately that takes something much less tangible.

It is refreshing to be able to walk past a yard sale without any interest in finding some object to take home and fill more space with.  It's a relief to be able rid of the desire to spend days digging through record stores or clothing racks looking for something that's not there.  That's progress, anyway.