Saturday, August 04, 2007

This time you know it's for real.

I have started to move. All that mental preperation had its place, but today I actually began the physical process. It really isn't so bad for me - at this point in my life I'm very much accustomed to it, I don't have a lot of stuff, and with practice I'm learned the wisdom of starting early. And I'm ready to go, so the procrasting neurons have gone on holiday.

Something I realized today: I'm pretty honest with myself, at least as far as material possessions go. People slowly become packrats filling this tope houses with tope possessions because they look at something and say, "I'll use that again sometime." There are a lot of things I own that I could do without, and a lot of things I don't wear enough to keep. There are T-shirts my mother bought me that I don't wear, and I have found myself teetering toward the sentimental camp and keeping them anyhow. But I won't. That's not the way my mother raised me.

I scaled down my CD collection, a giant leap for an analog man. You wouldn't believe how much less space discs and their jackets occupy when you discard the jewel case. I'm one frightfully small step from becoming an iPerson, I can feel the pull of the perfectly organized electronic music collection.

I'm keeping my records. Even if they're in Mom and Dad's basement.

I'm in minimalist state of mind, though, and have been for some time. I was given my first credit card this week, and just having it makes me a littlee uncomfortable. In a year of making poverty-level wages for Americorps I trained myself to understand that I can't just buy things because I want to, even little things like jeans or CDs. And having scraped by for so long on nothing but the little hard cash I could scrouge, it freaks me out to be entering the world of loans, credit and pretend money.

I'm honest enough with myself to know that someday when I'm tied down by all the b.s. of the adult world that I'll ceaselessly romanticize my unfettered formative years. I just hope I remember to reread all this journaling and remember how bitterness plants its flag on freedom.

1 comment:

andrew said...

More power to you!

So let it be written: the iGeneration shall not have you! If it wasn't for your analog repertoire of Tijuana Brass, I'd have most likely never enjoyed the [arguably] 8th wonder of the world; nor would I be as stinkin' happy!

-Wilson, Room #5