I've been a stuff person for as long as I can remember. I think I'm getting better. I have been able to convince myself that “I don't need that” for certain things that I would have purchased in the past. My weakness for buying stuff falls mainly into a few categories. DVD's, CD's, and Books. This is an improvement as I have been able divorce myself from collectible cards and hobby type stuff. As I sit here and think about the recent purchases, there really isn't very much outside of the DVD, CD and book area. Even that has dropped off dramatically. Most of my purchases lately have been equipment. That is to say I've been investing in gear in order to do something else like hiking, biking and so forth. I'd call that progress.

As I look around my home, I am surrounded with possessions. I've always had a love hate relationship with my stuff. When I was in middle school, I went through a purge phase where I felt compelled to throw out everything that I was not actively using, mostly because my cousin was doing it and it seemed somehow logical and cleansing. I regret that purge because that it represents a missing link in my evolution. I had a similar incident in my early 20's when I gave away my entire collection of Star Wars action figures and vehicles to the child of a friend. That regret is not so much historical as E-Bay driven.

I recognize that by having possessions you give up some liberty. You can't just take off. Somebody needs to watch your stuff! You have to lock your doors and have alarm systems to protect your stuff. This debate about stuff always reminds me of a guy I used to work with. He owned just about nothing. He made decent money. I guess he spent it on hanging out and partying. Who knows? One thing for sure, he didn't spend it on stuff. The only thing he truly owned was about half a garbage bag of clothing. The last time I saw him, he had his garbage bag of clothes slung over his shoulder. I asked him what he was up to. He told me that he decided that morning that he wanted to go to California. He said he'd never been there and wanted to check it out. So, he threw all of his clothes into a garbage bag and was hitting the road. Hitch-hiking of course, he didn't own a car. Maybe it is because of my Piscean tendencies but I simultaneously thought how cool / pathetic. Cool in that because he was not a slave to procuring and maintaining stuff, he could pull up stakes at a moment's notice and live a life of meager adventure. Pathetic in that he was my age and had no roots or anything that said, “I've accomplished something.” I can't quite get my head around it. I like coming home to my house, sitting on my couch, and watching something on my TV. Still, it bothers me to look back and think that if I didn't have so much stuff, would I sit and visit with my grandparents more? Of course, they have stuff too, but it seems that they have a different relationship with their stuff. Their stuff is there but they seem to be able to disregard it easily. Maybe that comes with the wisdom of age. I'm not there yet and I can't see myself getting there anytime soon.

A woman that I work with suffered a devastating house fire a few years ago. She lost everything except the nightgown she was wearing when she and her husband fled their burning home. It made me think about my stuff. The cold reality is that it is just stuff. I don't own anything that will prolong life. Nothing that I can't truly live without. I tried to imagine the fire scenario. It was disturbing. I have a lifetime's worth of accumulation. A huge portion of which is unique in some way and thus technically irreplaceable but at the same time technically unnecessary. It would be a devastating shock to lose everything in one fell swoop, but I have to admit that I feel like I would not miss my stuff eventually. I guess it falls into this category of “Don't need it but can't bear to part with it.” I think I get that sentimentalism from my mother. She's got a house full of stuff too, but her stuff is all junk.

If I did lose everything to fire of flood or whatever, I wonder if I would be smart enough to not make the same choices that got me here to begin with? Would I become a frequent flier at the library. Would I be more inclined to sit and visit with people? I have this nagging feeling that I'd eventually find myself unwittingly trying to restore it all.

I have a pretty obsessive habit of taking good care of my stuff. As result, I still have a large portion of everything I've ever owned. From extensive collections of books, CDs, DVDs and assorted knick-knacks to electronics and other types of gear. Some of it genuinely useful, most purely novelty in nature. Whether I use it or if it simply reminds me of people or moments of my life, everything has a story.