I am not what you would necessarily call a hoarder. Having lived in such a small space for such a long time, I’ve gotten good at discarding useless things, and miraculously making space (out of no space) for the rest. This is especially true since I moved. I was brutal, and the unnecessary crap was remorselessly tossed without a second thought. Everything that I didn’t want, use, like, or need was thrown or given away. Clean slate.
Amongst the things that I kept were my books. I mean, obviously. I’m not a heathen. Now, whilst I wouldn’t really call myself a collector either, I have amassed quite a large number of books over the years, ever since first being able to buy them. And I am notorious for buying multiple books at a time and stacking and storing them, reading through them one by one (and sometimes up to three at a time). My to be read shelf currently houses 31 books, in addition to the two I am currently reading (Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, and the abridged version of The Princess Bride by William Goldman). I love books. I need them. I may or may not be addicted.
I have a decent amount of films, a number of art prints, a selection of both pens and pocket watches and about seven Pop vinyl figures. My collections, as they are, are small in number, and limited in volume. A true collector, I am not. And yet, my best friend and I have a life motto; never enough. Now he, unlike me, is an avid and voracious collector of cool things. Barely a day goes by when I’m not being sent photos of the rad figures, books, films, weapons, prints, band merchandise and/or multiple other things he has had delivered in the mail. And he is even more adept at making the best of a small space than me! So much so that I have a genuine fear that the precariously stacked boxes of cool shit in his study will one day fall and crush him under the weight of awesomeness.
Our catchphrase, if you will, applies to most everything. Do I really need that new book…or ten? Never enough. I had a really good orgasm earlier, but now I’m toey again, and my vibrator is right there… Never enough. I’ve spent a lot on tattoos this year, but I just found an incredible design I want. Never enough. I’ve had two glasses of red wine and I’ve reached that pleasant state of mildly tipsy warmth; never en…actually, yeah I’m good here. Ok, so there are exceptions to the rule, but otherwise we both firmly believe in making the most of the simple pleasures in life.
But that philosophy come with judgement. You get accused of wasting your money, which is one thing that always bugs me. I always pay my rent and bills on time, and I’m not careless with my money. Why does it matter – moreover why does it concern anyone else – if I buy something for myself with the cash I have left? Then there are the accusations of hoarding. I’m not keeping empty water bottles and scraps of paper. I’m buying things that provide me with entertainment and enjoyment, thus fulfilling a purpose in my life. Not that I need to justify why I buy things, mind you. And of course, the misconception that I’m selfish. Well, let’s think on that for a second. I am an independent adult woman, with neither spouse nor child. I rely on myself, and am relied on by no one else. I work five days a week between two jobs to earn my own money. So I will buy as many books and films and typewriters and tea paraphernalia as I damn well please, and you can put your judgement right away, thank you very much.
I like cool things. As often as I am able, I will procure said cool things and do so without shame or guilt. I will enjoy cool things, and I will keep enjoying them. And why is that? Come on guys, you all know the answer.