Stuff about stuff

[bubosquared]

Yesterday, I realised that while I am an old lady when it comes to throwing things away, I don't actually care that much for material things.

No, really, it's just that I can't bare to let anything go to waste. When I cleaned out my apartment recently, I threw away about half a cubic meter of paper. Most of that consisted of old magazines and newspapers collected since moving in in August last year, and I still couldn't bring myself to throw them out before I'd gone through each and every last one of them and torn out the articles and pictures I thought someone might like to find in their Envelope o' Fun.

Other stuff I threw out included:

• Two double handfuls of old, broken pencils and dried-out markers, some of which - no lie! - I'd had since starting middle school;
• Tidbits and plastic blow-up clubs I was given as a present ages ago and who finally convinced me to let them die already because they've been broken for two years so why do I keep lugging them from room to student's room to apartment?

Things set aside to give (back) to my folks include:

• Weird pipe things my mother gave me to keep my computer cables under control (unopened);
• Various things I borrowed from them at some point and never bothered to give back;
• Piece of wood which I have no idea where it came from, but they can use it for their stove.

Things I sold/am selling or gave away/will be giving away:

• About a third of my books (some sold, some given away);
• Seven CD's (to be sold);
• Various pieces of clothing I haven't worn in ages because they either don't fit me anymore (did I get a growth spurt after I turned sixteen, or did I actually buy a lot of jeans too short back then?) or because the style doesn't fit me anymore (and yet even still, I don't think I can part with my lovely blue hippie dress; in fact, since summer's coming up, I'll have a chance to wear it at home a lot, which I won't, but still) or whatever (to be donated to a charity organisation and/or my brothers);
• A whole bunch of plush animals (I used to be allergic to dust, so when I could finally have them, I went wild), keeping only those that have sentimental value and/or are just plain wicked (have no selling value whatsoever, so maybe I'll give them away to various toddlers in my family or something).

Things I really ought to just get rid of already, but I can't:

• Aforementioned blue hippie dress -- I just can't, okay? I bought it in the last throes of my hippie phase, and it's all soft and comfortable and I know it clashes with my punk goth exterior, but inside, I actually am a weird punk-hippie hybrid (peace, man, and piss off);
• A stack of printed-out slash stories, coming up to my knee;
• A lot of paper, notebooks, art and office supplies;
• About 150 cassette tapes, recorded of library CDs over the course of nine years, tracking my musical evolution from the Beatles (Red and Blue Albums) through Dylan to Metallica and U2;
• About half of the junk in my "Electronics and stuff" box.
• All those damn candleholders and candles and incense holders;

I'm sure most of you are now wondering how on earth I I can actually have a table, a couch, a desk, a bed, and a wardrobe in my apartment and still managed to fit in all that crap. The answer is: Experience. Up until I was fifteen, I lived in a rather small house with four other people.When I was twelve, I finally convinced my mom that I needed my own room, and she had me swap with my youngest brother, putting me in the smallest bedroom of the house. And when I say "small," I mean "tiny". I mean one bed wide and two beds (barely) long, and one of the long sides was along the slope of the room, so I could only stand up properly in half of the room. I mean I had my bed, a rather large desk, a wardrobe and a stereo in there, and I still managed to acquire a collection of crap that was quite impressive. By the time we moved into a house where I had a decent-sized room, I'd already mastered the art of condensing as much crap into as small a space as possible. So of course, I acquired more stuff to fill the space I had. Lather, rinse, repeat for moving into a student's room and then into an apartment.

It's not just rooms and apartments, either. It's also bags. I still have the dark green Hedgren backpack I used during my failed stint at university. I could pack enough stuff in there to survive being stranded in Gent over the weekend. I can pack writing and reading material, plus my cigarette junk (I roll my own), my wallet, my address book, my cell phone and a handful of other emergency junk in a purse/shoulder bag roughly 10x10x5 inches large. I currently have a messenger bag containing my folder with my bunnies, plotting notes, research and WiPs, another folder with reference pictures for drawing, my sketchbook, my notebook for The Game, my general RPS notebook, my pen bag, my drawing pen bag (which, incidentally, I've had for seven years), my books stand in case I need to do some typing up of stories at work, my wallet, cell phone, a book, cigarette junk, floppy disk, address book, Nivea, pressed powder for my face, sunglasses, and a newspaper. Men have offered to put my bags in overhead compartments, only to stagger under the weight, meaning I had to catch it and put it up myself, like I was doing in the first place. I firmly believe that the reason I hardly gain weight despite a steady diet of junk food is that I effectively weight-lift about an hour a day.

Honestly, I should be in the moving business. I can pack up all your furniture and other junk to small you can use your own car to move it! Need advice on how to pack your entire wardrobe as small as you can, so you know you'll be prepared for that two-week trip? Come to me, my child! Trying to figure out how to fit all that junk into your new, tiny, apartment? Melle to the rescue!

But really, if I manage to pursue my dreams and move to NYC in a couple of years, I'll have no trouble leaving almost all my junk behind. I just want it to go to someone that will appreciate it. I don't want it to go to waste. I don't want to part with my lovely, sturdy, 40-year-old bed in the knowledge it's going to the garbage heap, which, incidentally, is where my mother got it, back in the dusty days of the early Seventies. I want to give it to someone who will get another few years of good sleep out of it. But as long as someone's still using it, I don't care if that someone is me or not. When it really comes down to it, the only things I'd take with me would be my books, about a third of my clothes, possibly my computer, and most of my notebooks.

- Not A Material Girl

Comments

[katemonkey.livejournal.com]

You know, you can keep the hippie dress and wear it with a pair of good strong boots and manage to pull off the hippie/punk thing.

I do that every once in awhile.

Re:

[bubosquared.livejournal.com]

Hm, does that work with Tevas as well? Cause the dress is really a summer dress, and I hate wearing too-warm footwear.

[katemonkey.livejournal.com]

Ought to. It's less about the clothes and more about how you feel in them. If you're a punker, then you're a punker no matter what you're wearing.