January 20th, 2003

firesea: self-portrait


Why, oh, why is it so darn difficult to get rid of stuff?

Example. I got a button maker in high school, along with a buttload of button parts. I'm not really interested in making buttons right now, nor do I think it will come up in the near future - moreover, I think it would cost me less to buy the stuff new than to ship what I already have to Seattle (yeah, I know, it's bizarre).

I should just dump it. But I can't shake the aversion to letting all this potentially useful stuff rot in a landfill. If I could recycle all the button parts I don't think I'd have such a problem with it.

And then there are the books. Boxes of them, that I don't have room for at home, but again refuse to throw them away. At least they can go to Goodwill. It's hard for me to get rid of anything, but it's easier if there's at least a possibility someone else will get some use out of it.

I don't like being so attached to Stuff. I'd really prefer to be perfectly happy without being surrounded by pretty things. I've gotten a lot better about acquiring new Stuff, but the desire for novelty and stimulation is so strong that it's still a wrench to leave new pretty things behind. I think our culture is far too materialistic, and yet I can't let go of materialism in myself. I don't like this contradiction. Grr.

Anyway, back to packing. I may actually get a full night of sleep tonight - weird.
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