I feel good about myself today because I finally finished unpacking my room! I'd post pictures but I lent my laptop to my girl so I can't upload pictures yet.
My room is organized but it's fine line between what I call organization and what others call messy. I blame this mostly on the amount of junk I collected from my various travels and journeys... specifically to used bookstores and comic book stores. And you know what? I like my stuff and there's the dilemma. I'm materialistic because I like stuff but what I like about my stuff is not aesthetic or social value; I like my stuff for its functional value. Now, you might be thinking to yourself, "what the hell is the functional value of comic books?" I wasn't sure of their value either until I went to teacher's college and realized that my collections, along with my ability to reference things, meant I seemed to know a lot of random information, which proved very useful on several occasions to the point where I was known for my knowledge of what, to others, seems trivial. I might not know sports statistics but I sure as hell know my Canadian history.
So, I've accepted that my possession have defined me and that, in a certain way, I work towards procuring more of these objects. I am happily feeding the consumerist ideology and while I certainly see a problem with this, I don't really care because, for today, I'm happy looking at my stuff.
My reward for cleaning my room? I'm spending the night listening to my records.
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