I have a habit of collecting things and never throwing them out. I just can't bear to. This has been a problem since my youth, when I couldn't even throw away homework that I wrote. I blame it on my intense sentimentality. Everything is a memory to me, good, bad, or otherwise. Well how do you throw that away? However, though I do love to keep things around, I would like to cut back on the superfluous things I have lying around the house. After all, who needs clutter? So whenever I move or pack, I try to clear out some of my stuff in an effort to stop the growing piles of boxes.
I am finally getting to the point in my life where I have outgrown some of my clothes, yet I still haven't put them all together to donate. Some are just a tad bit small now, but mostly they are just not a style that someone my age would wear. Despite the fact that I will never need them again, they sit in my closet, reminders of my high school days. Perhaps one day I will start an electronic photo album database with pictures of all the items that I've owned, so even when I get rid of something, I'll have it stored away in a memory bank of sorts. At the same time, I recognize that once that stuff is gone I will hardly ever think of it again.
This goes for a lot of things I own. My mom is always doing some spring cleaning in my room, rummaging through my things and throwing them out as she sees fit. Many of these items I don't miss for a long time, which should indicate just how much I don't need them. Yet, it doesn't make it any easier for me to let go, since the moment I do remember, I feel a great loss. Why do I have such an attachment to my personal items? Maybe it's because my memory is not as good as I would like, or that I fear losing it too soon.
Right now it's been hard to not pack certain things, since I can almost always convince myself that there will be that one circumstance in which I would need to use that item. I had to constantly remind myself that I really won't be needing a dozen jackets in Singapore, seeing as my research into their weather patterns has shown very consistent results: hot, humid, non-jacket conditions. It's a pity, since I have suddenly been rediscovering jackets that I have not worn in ages and would love to! Alas, I will just have to console myself with the thought that I can make up for that when I get back.
I even had trouble deciding what office supplies to bring - how many highlighters? What color pens? How about pencils? Erasers? All of this is largely irrelevant, since I will likely be using a rather plain black or blue pen most of the time, which I'm sure the office is abound with. Besides, how long does one pen last you? Ages! So it's not like I'm going to be pumping through them, but nonetheless I took special care in deciding just what to throw in my suitcase and what to leave out.
So there you go, I confess my packratting habit. It could be worse... right?
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I just overheard my mom on the phone, booking her plane ticket to Mongolia, due to leave just about 12 hours after mine to Singapore leaves LAX. The past couple of days she has been lamenting what to do about our mail, since many statements cannot be sent to P.O. boxes and there is no one in our family here to take care of it for us. We used to get it forwarded to a family friend's place, but that's such a hassle to do for just a month or two. I am not sure how it happened, but 8Asians started to follow me on Twitter! When I was notified of this, it got me to go back to their site to read some of their entries. I eventually came across an article about teaching your kid Chinese, as a response to an article that the author had read about the decision to not teach your kid Chinese. It was interesting to see the perspectives on this issue, being one who went through years of Chinese school. Though I hated getting up on Sunday mornings to go learn, the extra homework that inevitably came with extra schooling, and the difficulty of learning the characters, it is something that I am tremendously grateful for. This is a thought that comes up periodically in my life. It's not that I'm a nomad, but I have no true hometown to speak of. I am not really "native" to anywhere. Though I was born in China, I grew up in the United States. Does that make me "native American" (as opposed to Native American)? I don't feel so. Then do I feel Chinese? Not enough, especially when I go back to visit and the very way I look and hold myself gives me away immediately. Plus, my way of thought is greatly influenced by the American culture. |
laelene My philosophy is simple: things change. Therefore, we are all on a lifelong journey of discovery. We should be flexible, questioning, learning, adapting, and growing. Always. Archives
May 2009
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