Reading r_pendragon's journal

Since arriving home, one singular thing has become quite clear to me:

I have a ton of crap.

I'd like to say that these items are things that I need. But I know better than that; a year sharing a miniature Japanese apartment with a roommate and an extremely destructive cat have taught me that there are few things that qualify as necessities.

Today I was sorting through some of it (due to the house remodeling that went on while I was in Japan, my mother has helpfully heaped the majority of my things in the basement, neatly labelled "Rachel's Books," "Rachel's Xmas Ornaments," "Rachel's Things That I Wish She'd Throw Away."

And I realized, as I was sorting things into piles of "Want," "Sort of Want," "Garbage," "Give Away," and "Feel Heinously Guilty About," that our culture is amazingly resistant to clearing out useless things. This particularly hit home as I was looking at an old teddy bear my grandmother had made for me when I was born. It's ratty, near-decimated, and I would certainly never pass it on to the future child I hope to never have.

So what do I do with it? It's not like it could go to another child, so that scotches the idea of giving it to Goodwill, but it's not like I want it on prominent display in my apartment, either.

But how do you throw away something like that? There's a voice in the back of my mind that says "How dare you even consider putting that in the trash? It was made for you by your dead grandmother."

My mother loves playing the voice of conscience, too. My brother was a radio broadcaster in Senegal the year I was 7, and he brought back some clothes and dolls for me. Obviously, the very small dresses are long gone, but the dolls have persisted to the present. I was looking at them today, weighing my options, when I heard my mother, like the voice of God:

"You aren't getting rid of those, are you? Matthew brought them back all the way from Africa for you."

She managed to make it sound as if they'd been fetched from Mars and blessed by the Pope.

In general, I'd prefer a fairly minimalist lifestyle. Give me my clothes, a good book, my laptop, a toothbrush, toothpaste, floss and all other basics, and I'm content.

But there seem to be so many people (sadly, myself included) who persist in bogging me down with extraneous goods.

I did manage to pawn my Japanese PS1 off on my mom, at least; she's now enrolled in a program called "Learning Written Japanese Through Copious Playing of Tetris."

My stepdad isn't mean, he's just adjusting. -Death to Smoochy

Heh. Do you think I could enroll my mom as well? Sadly, I'm unwilling to buy a Japanese Gamecube and my mother is more the Dr. Mario type... *sighs* In good news? I got myself Fatal Frame 2 in Japanese. Wading through the kanji, me. Is good practice, though the Sugimotos are undoubtable wondering about my muttering "Today the something something village was something something. I can't find something-mura something san. (Etc.)" to myself in my room at one a.m. on a Sunday night. ^_~

"She's at that awkward age. Too old for romantic misadventures, too young for mystic kung fu powers.

I too have an infinite amount of clutter. Most of it is of the sort involving copious leaves of paper bound between boards. Books. They are what hold me down to place. They bind me.

Other than that, heirloom furniture that I wouldn't want to give up, and skads of yarn for knitting sweaters and such, paint supplies, pastels, etching materials, and inks. In addition, all of my slides, my zinc plates, my paintings from previous years, my framed pastels, artwork given to me by other artists, and artwork purchased. I own, I own...

I don't feel very simplified at all. I am of two minds about it. For one, I wish not to be tied to place and possessions, and wish that I could just give it all away... including the crystals from numerous crystal digs in Arkansas with friends, and all the tiny knicknacks and souvenirs. Several years ago, during Christmas time -when I was really sick- I had no money at all, barely enough to live on. I walked through my apartment, and noticed various items that friends of mine would love to have. I bought wrapping paper, and gave my things away. Maybe I should do that again. It was one of the most beautiful Christmases that I have ever had.

But, I also loooove my books. I enjoy rotating the little knicknacks and souvenirs as conversation pieces and diversions for friends to entertain themselves with when they are over. I don't want to give up my art supplies. What to do?

Maybe there is a happy medium to be had. I fear that oversimplification is an oversimplification. The New Age books suggest that we do that, but somehow I don't think I could bear the heartache. It is too much.

And what if I lived in Japan as you did? Where space is at an ultimate premium...what then would I do? I guess I would have to pick and choose what I would keep, like a person leaving a burning building might grab their pet and their favorite book, or piece of grandma's jewelry.

After all, we can't take it with us when we die, can we? *sigh*

If mountain goats like living at high elevations, why do none live in high rise apartment buildings?