I've long been attached to my stuff. Cardo likes to tease me because I still have some things from the time I was in high school (and, um, from before). I have weeded out tons and tons of stuff from my possessions and yet I own more. My somewhat mindless collecting of stuff began before I became an adult. I didn't mean to mindlessly acquire, but it happened. I'm a person who can pack up a box during one move and not unpack it for three more moves and never miss what's in the box. I probably don't even remember what is in the box.
I've worked diligently to declutter my life, although it doesn't really look like it. For several years now, I've given a lot more thought to my purchases: Do I need this? [Most likely not.] Is it worth spending the money on? [Probably not.] Is it worth the amount of hours I have worked to earn the money (or, the amount of hours Cardo has worked to earn the money)? [Probably not.]
I've greatly reduced my consumption of stuff (um, I'm really not including books in this category of stuff -- I love and value my books and I've become much better about checking books out from the library instead of buying them immediately). However, we still manage to collect more...stuff. I myself am definitely a work in progress.
I'm trying to see my things as such: things, not little bits of myself or something like that. I don't need to have a bunch of junk surrounding me. It doesn't make me feel better. In fact, it makes me feel worse. When I look around at all of the junk we have accumulated and have yet to return to Goodwill or Savers (where we most likely bought it in the first place), I become anxious.
Anyhow, this brief bit of introspection was inspired by this short video clip:
|The Colbert Report||Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c|
As soon as the local library website is once again working, I'll be adding The Story of Stuff to my library holds list.