Material Stuff

3-3-09

I went to go buy a new Red Sox cap the other day and I’m not sure what I think of it.  It’s not like my old cap.  Of course, it’s the same size, same logo, but it just doesn’t feel right.  I’ve had my old hat since eighth grade I think.  It was my first baseball cap, and I wore it everyday.  My new hat is navy blue, which is weird because my old hat was a blueish gray because the sun dyed it after riding my bike everyday in the summer.  I miss my old hat, but it’s time to move on because, quite frankly, it smells a bit.

I really like my things, and I like the memories they hold.  In summer school in high school one year, we did some research on the different social classes.  People in the middle class tend to value things, while people in the lower class value people.  I’ve always thought about which one means more to me, and I’m wondering if that makes me a bad person.  Obviously, if I had to choose between saving my best friends life or not burning my guitar, I’m going to save my friend.  But my things mean a lot to me, and I think that’s where my packrat issue comes in.

I like stuff and things, and I like having a lot of stuff.  When I made my list of one hundred things I like, there was a lot of my possessions on there- tuba, guitar, backpack, the quilt, etc.  I think that if objects could talk, they’d have a lot to say.  Some of my most intimate moments and feelings are shared with my guitar- and if you’re not a musician that will sound really weird.  I wonder what’s going to happen when I move out and have to decide which stuff to keep and which stuff to get rid of.  It’s going to be hard.