I have been thinking about stuff all week. Not just because of my recent post where I define myself as an experience person, mildly persuaded to the stuff side on occasion, but mainly because we have to go through all of our stuff as we get ready to make our trans-continental (if you go by the 7 continent rule) move.
We decided, based on the quality (or lack thereof) of our stuff, that we are going to sell or get rid of most of it. I am not sure if this means we are lucky not to be stuff people, where we have stuff that is so nice we can’t bear not to send it, no matter the cost, or if we are unlucky, because though most of our stuff is hand-me-down crap, we have stuff and it is ours, and in a few months we won’t much stuff at all.
I am starting to go through boxes and files. I have piles like this, waiting to be shredded, recycled, given away.
We are taking some stuff, but mostly, it is useless. You can’t sleep on it and you can’t eat off of it. What we will take with us: books, cds, some toys, clothes, my bike, some tools, some kitchen items. Our friends down the street asked if we are taking our ladder. Honestly, we might, and not out of spite, my hubs is quite fond of it.
I talked to my little sister this morning. She said she was going through her memory box. We all have one, ironically they are all boxes that formerly held the likes of Johnny Walker and other distilled spirits; of course, this is only ironic if you know my mother. She can’t stand alcohol, yet she stored all of our childhood mementos in booze boxes. I think there is a message there.
My sister said that she felt like the box was kind of a burden, because she has to take it with her everywhere she goes. It is true; it is kind of a burden.
I have several boxes of photos and memories that must be hauled from house to house, city to city, and even country to country, if need be. It is the stuff your parents collected for you and then that you collect. It can’t be thrown away and can’t be kept at your parents because you are too old and because your parents don’t want to store it for you anyway.
They are boxes filled with things like this:
The sock monkey my mom made me when I was 4
The apron my mom made to hold my crayons while coloring
A very important manual on hibernation and migration
A stack of punishment papers, proof of the dreaded sentence-writing.
This one is 26-50 of 100: I will be respectful in family meetings.
I guess you can deduce that I wasn't.
…. These are things that I can’t bear to throw away.
I am also going through all of my academic stuff—boxes and boxes of articles. Some of them I will keep, but a lot of them I will get rid of.
If you want any articles on the Baroque, Neo-Baroque, Modernism, Post-Modernism, Colonial, or Post-Colonial… It is your moment! Speak now or forever hold your peace.
What? No takers.....?