Purging my Possessions

It may be because I just graduated college (Oh yeah, I graduated college. Let’s take a few moments–actually, a moment doesn’t do it enough justice. Let’s take a few hours to reflect on this incredible achievement and think about all the hard work I put into it and consider how much debt I am now in and feel sorry for me for having to start paying those loans in a mere six months on top of the medley of bills I already pay by myself and maybe even pull out your check book and make it out to Ms. Extraordinary Supreme Queen of Kent and all the Land Brittany and my mailing address is….) but–uhhhhhh, where was I? People interrupt me all the time but it turns out that I myself am the best at interrupting me.

So it may be because I just graduated college and so therefore I actually have time outside of work to dedicate to basic tasks like cleaning, visiting with friends, cooking (okay, I threw that one in there for laughs), and I would say “grocery shopping” but that sort of goes hand-in-hand with cooking and that just hasn’t happened yet, but I’ve actually been doing a lot of cleaning the past couple weeks.

I’ve just been in the mood to clean. And not really even “cleaning” in the strictest sense; really, I’ve been doing a lot of weeding. I just want to get rid of things– old clothes, unused jewelry, random mementos, notebooks filled with physics notes… Get it out.

I hate clutter. It’s pretty obvious I’m a fairly organized person just by glancing at my server notebook at work, or by peeking in my car window, or by passing my bathroom counter. Of course, there’s still room for organizational improvement in all that I do–hell, I don’t own a label maker, so I’m still semi-normal–and sometimes my apathy outweighs my desire for cleanliness, but for the most part I like things tidy.

Well, when you work five days a week and you have class on your two off-days, and on top of that you try to squeeze in as much social interaction as possible, for fifteen weeks in a row, certain things tend to fade away from your list of priorities. Well, my list of priorities, anyway; during the semester, I was too busy to care about cleaning my room the way I (vaguely) cared about getting to work on time or (barely) cared about getting my essay written.

To further exacerbate this, I’ve been living by myself for a while now, and so not only do I not need to be considerate of other people because the only asshole I ever inconvenience with my living habits is myself, but I’ve also managed to accumulate a hefty amount of certified crap because I have the space for it and because that’s just the nature of being an adult. You buy a stupid glass pumpkin for a Halloween decoration, but where do you put it the other eleven months? Unless you’re a Halloweenie, you probably stick it in the closet under the stairs, where it collects dust and generally gets away without paying rent even though it’s home more than you are. Or, somebody buys you a unicycle for Christmas and it’s cool and you want to learn how to ride it but you’re just kind of caught up with things (like Friday game night which is your allotted time to play Solitaire, or your very important appointment “watching TV” when you are really just napping while wasting electricity) and before you know it, it’s been leaning up against your living room wall for a year and you don’t even know it’s there anymore because it’s become sort of a coat rack… Er, coat pile. Or, you buy some specific cheese because you’re making a specific dish and you don’t use it all but you swear you’ll need it again, so the rest of the specific cheese sits in your fridge long past its duration of edibility and then one day you’re the proud owner of moldy cheese–an astute honor!

Anyway, it can be easy to just come into owning all this excess shtuff and waking up randomly some time and realizing, “Wow, I am overwhelmed by all this junk surrounding me.” And it’s not even that it’s junk, it’s just that it’s not all necessary. Like, do I really need a bottle cap from some unimportant beer I drank over the summer? Do I really need to hang on to the movie ticket stub from seeing Zootopia? Do I really need a hair tie that’s super stretched out and has hair tangled around it? Do I super need to possess and cherish a sweater that’s too big on me and always makes me feel tubby and looks just like a sweater I just bought? The answer to all of the above is a resounding “yes.” Oh–hang on–I’m getting word from the producers—they’re telling me in the box that the actual answer is “no.” So, you heard it here first, folks! The answer is “No!” You do not need all that crap!

And I’ve always been the kind of person who would rather have fewer possessions that were really quality. Like, I don’t want a million tank tops (one for every color shirt I own) and I don’t want fifty pots and pans and I certainly don’t need to keep every piece of paper I’ve ever written on. I am inclined to keep all of it because I was surrounded by pack rats growing up and I am a pretty sensitive person so I easily attach meaning to possessions, but the ironic part is that I do not feel organized or in control when my stuff multiplies like rabbits and suddenly I’m one girl drowning in a warehouse of worthless junk that I can’t even take with me when I die. (Which, by the way, is the biggest scam I’ve ever heard in my life. I spend my entire life busting my ass to get what I have and I don’t even get to hang onto any of it when I pass away? What’s the point of dying then!)

Plus I think about moving a lot. I’ve moved a few times in the past few years, and it kinda sucks. I’m about to be moving again in about six months, so I’m trying to make it easier on myself by deleting the extraneous nonsense now. And on top of that, I’m a po’ lass, who just graduated college (there’s your halftime blog post reminder) and so if I can take an entire car-full of my unwanted clothes to Plato’s closet and get five dollars for it all, I will! You know why? Because MO-NAY. Dolla signs. $$$$. Money is the only possession convenient to have. Takes up very little room (in this day and age, anyway, with the invention of banks and debit cards. I pity the poor, unfortunate rich souls back in the day who had to probably build additional wings on their mansions just to store their money. It’s like they were being punished just for being lucky and wealthy!) and you can easily sort it. Well, until you start getting into stock stuff and subscribing to bullshit and bills and stuff divide your money into all different pathways, but that’s not the point. The point is there is no problem I currently have that money couldn’t solve. If I had enough money, I could build my cat her own house with her own bed and then she wouldn’t have to pee on mine anymore. Not one problem that couldn’t be solved with money.

It’s also the end of the year, and so it’d be cool to start the new year with nice, fresh living quarters. (No, I don’t mean silver quarters that greet you “Good morning” and breathe and eat and all that, I mean the place in which one inhabits, you ridiculous, goofy reader.) I find that where I live and where I spend my time really affects my moods. I wish it didn’t. For example, in the winter, I have a more depressive disposition because the sun dodges my phone calls and it’s so cold and dead outside. I’ve realized when I get sad or stressed out or bored with my life, if I rearrange my room and change my perspective, it re-ignites my overall excitement. It’s good for me, really.

Anyway, I’ve always wanted to be one of those people who owns like two flannels and a water bottle, but I know I could never be that minimalist. Instead, I’ll do my best to scale back on what I already have, and try not to live a life of too much excess. So if anyone wants a random charger or a half-used bottle of year-old lotion or a beige shirt with cat vomit on it, let me know, because I’m getting rid of some very valuable items like the sort.


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