The Onus of Owning

Some good stuff on downsizing going on in these minimalist, recession days.

The Uniform Project (super cool clothing experiment. Thanks to my sister Ruthie for letting me know about this when it started!)

Tiny Houses (as soon as I find a good plot of land!). Love this tiny house, too.

And of course, The New York Times is covering all of it.

I'm not the Times, but I think I have written a few times about my own ambivalence towards and feelings of being burdened by possessions. I hate them. I hate acquiring them, I hate living around them, and most of all, I hate schlepping them. Thankfully, because I've moved abodes and/or changed states at least every 12 months* for the past several 13 years, I have kept my number of large possessions to a minimum (damn you, sea green metal medical cabinet). And each time I move, I purge a little more.

Currently, my mega-burdens are paper, clothing, and toiletries. And interestingly, the burden part of the equation comes largely from all the acquisitions I made (or gifts I received) from childhood through college. Yes, I'm a recovering packrat, and with the luxury of a stable childhood home and my own bedroom, I have a lifetime's worth of toiletries, perfume, and hair styling products.

I'm working on scanning the paper into oblivion, and I've started shampooing with my hand soap and rubbing myself frequently with all the exfoliants, moisturizers, and healing oils, but I'm always going to want to be surrounded by clothes. It's not that I'm buying new attire--I just love digging through my existing collection.

I'm glad I have experience with living with a small wardrobe. From 2003-2004, I went on a self-induced clothing diet. I was living in Los Angeles with only the carry-on suitcase I'd flown there for the weekend with. I had a dress, 1 or 2 pairs of pants, 3 or 4 shirts, and a t-shirt and shorts for working out. Jewelry consisted of two rings. It was enough variety that I wasn't wearing the same thing every single day, but I remember the excitement and fulfillment I felt when I returned to North Carolina and had full access to my entire wardrobe. I am winnowing my clothing habits down in one important way, though--quality over quantity.

I get inspired by reminding myself that I want my own tiny little house some day. Or, of course, a vintage Airstream. Could it be that the real estate one aspires to guides their life choices? E.g., picket-fenced house leads to need of husband to fit in which leads to need to birth kids to fit in which leads to need for new washer/dryer to fit in which leads to need to send daughter to ballet to fit in which leads to...

*Exception: from 2005-2007, I stayed in the same apartment for 2 years straight!

Home Furnishings

A few months ago, Facebook was besieged by a plague of lists wherein people would share things about themselves. Not usually one to engage in mass hysterics, I would have sat this one out per usual, but my sister suggested we should both participate out of familial duty since our cousins had expressed interest in our doing so. Of course, I ended up the George to her Jerry, detailing various perceived idiosyncracies about myself in a painstaking act of reveal-thy-self, while she never quite got around to it. Bah humbug.

In that list (see below), I mentioned that home furnishings stress me out. Example: behold my teacups! I love them, but the thought of having to keep up with them and ensure their safety as I move from place to place is enough to make me want to just sell them off right now.

The List 25
1. Facebook stresses me out sometimes (case in point right here), as do doormen, home furnishings, and non-hair-related conversations with hairstylists.

2. I recently discovered that my abdomen has an onion intolerance, not the six embryos I had originally suspected.

3. I used to think I should live without regrets, but now I think that my regrets teach me important life lessons.

4. I start counting my regrets at kindergarten (because my pre-school self just didn't know any better).

5. All of my regrets involve interpersonal relationships, which I am terrible at navigating (but I'm sure you already knew that).

6. My first regret stems from the first day of kindergarten, when I was so relieved that Amy Smialowicz asked me to play that I am quite sure that I did not turn back to wave goodbye to my mother.

7. My second regret is that I never thanked Amy Smialowicz for asking me to play.

8. I attended four colleges in four years.

9. I resent all the other April Changs in the world for diluting the powerful cachet attached to my name.

10. A placenta once fell onto my shoe. The stain just recently faded.

11. I have a recurring nightmare where I fail my childhood piano teacher.

12. I'm interested in living in a commune of people who are successful, intelligent, and don't make me vomit. Please send leads.

13. I secretly wish everyone knew about my blog.

14. I took a weekend trip to Los Angeles with nothing but a carry-on suitcase and ended up staying there for a year.

15. I went nuts wearing my entire wardrobe when I returned from LA, but now I want to go back to having no belongings.

16. I grew up watching almost 40 hours of television per week.

17. Some jobs I've had: blueberry picker, street hustler (of comedy tickets), Pepsi Challenge promotional photographer, birth doula, nanny, telemarketer. This list is still growing.

18. Masseuses always tell me I'm flexible and have soft skin, but I think that's because they're used to hairy old people.

19. I once had an eyelash that was 1.5 inches long. I wanted to submit it to Guinness, but I couldn't find a photographer with both the skillz and willingness to photograph my novelty act.

20. As a child, I tried to domesticate a fly by trapping it in a plastic container and naming it Fred. To my horror, he died a few days later.

21. I also once used my Care Bear stuffed animal to mop up spilled apple juice.

22. And would stuff half-eaten hot dogs under the couch.

23. And would bite the edge of an oblong throw pillow and thrash it around while calling it a hot dog.

24. Self-checkout terminals have allowed me to live out my lifelong dream of being a grocery store clerk.

25. I have four alarm clocks and can sleep through all of them.

Tired and Feathered

Yowzers!

I recently moved, and for the first time in all the many times I've lived in NYC, I must furnish my living space from scratch.

It's been a struggle, to say the least. Furniture is expensive, so I definitely can't buy it all at once, and locating furniture and other home furnishings that are at once space-appropriate and consistent with my aesthetic goals compounds the difficulte. Not to mention the financial and physical challenge of hauling something to my apartment or being home Monday-Friday during the day to accept a delivery.

Aside: why do furniture stores for Manhattanites even sell full-sized couches and dining tables? Surely
# of shoebox apartments > # of properly proportioned apartments here, non?

Aaanyway, to add more financial insult to financial injury and more hassle to hassle, my existing possessions are deteriorating rapidly (see earlier post entitled "10-year replacement cycle"). Case in point: my down comforter. I woke up one chilly November morning to find my bed and person covered in loose feathers. Covered! Tarred and feathered, minus the tar. It was as if a gaggle of girls had taken over my bedroom under the cover of night and thrown the archetypal slumber party. I wonder how many secrets got whispered behind hands and into ears that night. I hope it was a lot, and I hope they were juicy because otherwise I'm suffering for nought.

Oh my god. It was such an utter desastre in my apartment and covered me so completely from head to toe in feathers that I had two, count 'em TWO strangers who saw me that morning inquire as to what on earth happened to me.

Ugh. Fortunately, today, I finally purchased a new comforter. Now, if I could just get my hands on a decent broom.

no more delays

i've been giving much thought to my future (what's left of it, egads) and have come to the conclusion that i need to stop delaying what i expect my life to be. if i expect it to be X, then it should be X right now, not later, when A, B, & C happen and Y finally falls into place. make it X now.

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in consequence, i've been mulling over some major life decisions of late. my conclusions are still incomplete, but the most valuable aspect of my racing mind is the sensation that i need to come to grips with the reality of my life as i never have before. this is my life. i can't keep wishing or waiting for it to be something else--it is what it is. and if it is not what i've been waiting for it to be, then i need to stop waiting. i need to make it what i wish it to be right here and now.

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i am many things at heart, one of which is a yuppie, through and through. on valentine's day, the new york times ran an article about the eyesore that a house becomes once children enter the scene (read the article, "Parent Shock: Children Are Not Décor," here).

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it may be that everything i read these days lights a fire under my ass, but this article lit an atomic bomb. it resonated with a lot of my recent thinkings. in sum, it interviews 3+ couples who had just gotten to a place in their lives when they could get their house interiors the way they wanted, and then they had children and the decor went to hell (ugly children's toys, begrudging safety precautions, etc.).

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i'm 28, and though i have great interest in interior design, i have thus far delayed having a home of any permanence or aesthetic accomplishment due to what i have perceived as my transitory life. granted, i've lived a more transitory life than many others, but shouldn't i breathe fullness into each step i take? if i keep postponing the transformation of a living space into the coveted paradise i fantasize about in my head, then i may never get around to having that paradise.

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corollary - am i:

1. who i strive to be
2. who i am on occasion
3. who i am usually or
4. who i end up being through inadvertance?

likewise, if i keep postponing the proper routine of domesticity that i want to have, then i will never have such a routine, and i will never be the person i want to be (e.g., i'm not martha stewart until i act like martha stewart).

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i've focused this discussion on interior design, but the thought process i'm teasing apart is applicable to all facets of my life. distilled down, it amounts to two maxims:

1. don't delay
2. be what i want to be & live the life i want to live right here and now

i'm eustressed and distressed with these revelations. i feel i'm seeing things with a clarity that is unprecedented. and for the first time in my life, i know that i'm on the brink of something good.

To Do

Last night was my first night alone in my new apartment. I've often felt lonely in NYC, and so it was familiar and almost comforting to be here and lonely yesterday.

1) go to West Elm store in Chelsea to try to buy a bed

2) figure out a temporary lighting solution

3) unpack work clothes

4) (buy iron if necessary)

5) put boxes into categories

6) go to Ikea this weekend to purchase more permanent lighting solution

Since I couldn't sleep last night, I devoured some recent Trader Joe's acquisitions and did a little bit of unpacking of kitchen-related items. I haven't gotten out of bed yet this morning to see my nocturnal handiwork, but I actually think it might now look even worse than pictured.

I'm going to have to figure out what to do with my precious cast iron pots/pans and other valuable kitchenery--is it indeed time to live alone?