An important topic regarding ownership of property is commitment. If you buy a fancy car, are you committed to the maintenance time and costs associated with it? Houses require upkeep. So, too, do the objects within anyone’s abode. I once wanted a massive collection of CDs, perhaps out of some excess curiosity, and now as I organize dozens of boxed CDs, I ask the contents: would I budget the time to see your band live?
I bought a Hot Wheels vehicle recently, added now two concert shirts to my collection, and plan to get more things in the future. Aren’t I supposed to be some kind of minimalist monk that sleeps on the floor and has nothing except a computer for writing? Isn’t the apartment-mansion’s excess supposed to be disgusting? How could I celebrate materialism at all? My intentions with Downsizing Zeal are celebrating the best and shedding the rest.
I still enjoy owning things. I will still buy non-consumables. It’s just now as I drive along my “roads of life,” I no longer take those “pitstops” onto “materialistic side roads.” If I “fill up on gas” “somewhere” and buy “something,” that’s not a big deal. When I go out of my way to buy something ornate and fragile, that’s when I get into hoarding trouble, like if I took home this “No Outlet” sign…
When I last heard some album, some hundred-thirty plus months ago, I was a different person. We change daily, monthly, and yearly, like the Ship of Theseus, physically and mentally rebuilding ourselves after every crack in our hull or respite at shore. This album is the same. I still remember every twist and turn, yet unlike some moments of nostalgia that whisk us away to a fancier time, this was just a mundane time travel.
Until hitting the nadir of my hoarding tendencies last year, whenever anything even slightly caught my fancy, I’d usually want to have it. While not particularly weird, I have at least one road turtle, and I was tempted to take home another one today. The thing that stopped me today wasn’t whether I could legally own it – sure, that’s a concern, too – but more that I couldn’t answer one question: why should I take it?
Do we keep souvenirs as mementos of highlights or evidence of situations? I have a hat from when I visited San Francisco last. I’m sure you don’t need evidence from me that I went there once, and yet, we feel a need to have souvenirs related to things we’ve done, people we’ve met, and situations we’ve overcome. I am still guilty of this. Ideally, enough of my work should speak for itself to be both.
I spun one of these albums constantly throughout high school, the other only twice after college. Though both are in the same epoch of music cataloged as nu metal, so theoretically if I like one, I should like the other. I’m only keeping the one I have more attachment toward. I spun the hit single of the other. It inspired no enthusiasm. These sorts of comparative analyses can be helpful in downsizing, but also dangerous.