Thinking about 'Stuff'
May. 26th, 2004 06:17 pmSo,
gement and I have a mathom box in the living room now. It's an interesting psychological exercise, among other things--to have a spot you put things you don't want, a location in which an item is officially no longer 'yours', instead of looking at them and shoving them back in a box or a shelf. It's been making me think about what things I actually use and need and want, and what things I just have because I haven't gotten rid of them yet. (It also has the side benefit of being something to say when the conversation lags: "Have you checked out our mathom box yet? Is there anything in there you would use?")
And it's an interesting idea, of passing things from hand to hand until they find the right home. Sort of like selling the books you won't loan or reference or read again to the used bookstore, or composting food waste into plant food into human food again. Cycles of movement of stuff.
It seems like there should be a better system to cycle things. Books, easy enough to take to the used bookstore. Clothes, a little harder, but there are lots of places that either buy and sell clothes, or will accept and sell donations. But the odder items--a small stuffed humming bird
gement was given, or the box of lab glassware I have and don't use...harder to know how to cycle them back into circulation and use, short of donating them to Goodwill. How does one go about selling something like lab glassware, anyway? It's not like you can take it to the crazy geek shop down the street and exchange it for store credit to get a bead torch, a pile of chainmail rings and a fishtank.
I'm not sure when I got more minimalist and less packrat. I was raised by packrats. Perhaps it was having to move things out of the old house, and finding boxes which had not been unpacked after we moved in, some 16 or 17 years previously. Or having to keep all the things I own in my apartment, within my space. Or perhaps it is something else, a mental distinction between need and want, or an emotional detachment from things that do not consistently bring me joy. I still struggle with it a bit, torn between not wanting something but not being willing to let go.
At the moment, my thoughts are being triggered by the pile of books attempting to take over my shelving and/or closet. I have a huge pile of books I've gotten from library sales and friends, which make up a shelf in my living room and the majority of my reading queue. And I now have another 12 shelf-feet or so of sci-fi from my Dad, including an almost complete set of Edgar Rice Burroughs (I'm curious how good they actually are), some two shelf-feet of Heinlein (oddly, I have the cover but not the book of The Moon is a Harsh Mistress), and almost everything E.E. 'Doc' Smith ever wrote (though I'm missing Triplanetary. If someone has one, especially from the 1971 printing, I'd give it a good home. :) Not sure where I'll put them except back in the boxes for now. I'm guessing I have around 50 shelf-feet of books in boxes. Perhaps someday I will have enough bookshelves for them. I suspect I need to sort though and get rid of some of them again; it seems to be necessary every couple years.
And it's an interesting idea, of passing things from hand to hand until they find the right home. Sort of like selling the books you won't loan or reference or read again to the used bookstore, or composting food waste into plant food into human food again. Cycles of movement of stuff.
It seems like there should be a better system to cycle things. Books, easy enough to take to the used bookstore. Clothes, a little harder, but there are lots of places that either buy and sell clothes, or will accept and sell donations. But the odder items--a small stuffed humming bird
I'm not sure when I got more minimalist and less packrat. I was raised by packrats. Perhaps it was having to move things out of the old house, and finding boxes which had not been unpacked after we moved in, some 16 or 17 years previously. Or having to keep all the things I own in my apartment, within my space. Or perhaps it is something else, a mental distinction between need and want, or an emotional detachment from things that do not consistently bring me joy. I still struggle with it a bit, torn between not wanting something but not being willing to let go.
At the moment, my thoughts are being triggered by the pile of books attempting to take over my shelving and/or closet. I have a huge pile of books I've gotten from library sales and friends, which make up a shelf in my living room and the majority of my reading queue. And I now have another 12 shelf-feet or so of sci-fi from my Dad, including an almost complete set of Edgar Rice Burroughs (I'm curious how good they actually are), some two shelf-feet of Heinlein (oddly, I have the cover but not the book of The Moon is a Harsh Mistress), and almost everything E.E. 'Doc' Smith ever wrote (though I'm missing Triplanetary. If someone has one, especially from the 1971 printing, I'd give it a good home. :) Not sure where I'll put them except back in the boxes for now. I'm guessing I have around 50 shelf-feet of books in boxes. Perhaps someday I will have enough bookshelves for them. I suspect I need to sort though and get rid of some of them again; it seems to be necessary every couple years.
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Date: 2004-05-26 06:35 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2004-05-27 11:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-26 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-26 09:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-27 11:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-27 06:47 am (UTC)Is the small stuffed humming bird cute? I like cute little birdies...
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Date: 2004-05-27 11:11 am (UTC)