Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Everything Must Go - Manic Street Preachers

In the recent days, I've wanted to wash my hands of material items and purge my bedroom. Everything must go. The anti- Veruca Salt, if you will. What brought on, this crazy, rash idea you ask? It's always been there, since I got to the age of maybe seventeen. . . but only right now, do I feel confident enough to execute it.

My drive home from New York to Virginia, definitely made me think twice about the amount of items which I own. I've posted a picture of all my boxes. . . arguably not a lot. But when you're running up and down five flights of stairs, moving boxes, one by one . . you want to kick yourself for owning that much stuff. I actually had strange daydreams of driving down I-95 South and throwing things out the window as I drove. Moving day was a hellish day that went something to the tune of: wake up at 6am, take the subway to JFK, pick up car, navigate back from JFK to Brooklyn (having never drove in the city before), pack up car, drive to Virginia. I wanted to shoot myself by 11am. When I arrived at Avis I had to keep jumping in size and price brackett because the trunk space (on the cars offered), simply wasn't big enough. The car which I finally settled on was expensive too ($184 to be exact). And I hate driving SUVs. I really do. I feel like I'm only contributing to one of the world's many problems.
I really don't have that much stuff. In comparison to some people, yes. In comparison to most of America, no. But I still desire to have as much of it gone, as possible.

Next time you see my closet, it will be thinner, healthier and happier. Kind of like a fat kid that recently discovered a love for soccer and martial arts. Don't get me wrong, I'm not giving up shopping, I'm just once again vowing to make wiser purchases. Truthfully I've got a lot of old clothing that I'm holding on to for nostalgia's sake and I've got atleast five pairs of shoes which are on the verge of death, but I would like to wear them out until I feel like they are worthy of a proper burial. I've already started chucking though. . . like old underwear where the elastic is stretched out, making for a hideous fit. Toss!

Once upon a time, I wanted it all. The nine year old me, imagined the twenty something me, owning a giant walk-in closet with rows of pretty dresses and shoes. I believe in most little girls, there's a little Veruca Salt lurking, who whispers in our ear that we're entitled to have it all. But I don't want it all! Sorry Veruca. Can we still be friends? (You don't have to like her, but you've got to admit, the girl's got moxie. . . )

(PS - If you are interested in viewing some of my fine wares on eBay, my seller id is: etoilee8 . I guarentee to have good stuff at really cheap prices . . . I wouldn't sell anything which I myself would not want to buy. . . just stuff which I can't house anymore because it's impractical)

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