Housecleaning Time in Kyleland

There was a point in time that lasted for years that I would buy or collect things just to have them around. Clothes, records, books, movies, video games. I used to keep CDs and records if there were maybe three songs I liked from the record, or if I was just too lazy to MP3 them, and burn onto a CD (or, more recently, transfer them to my iPod). I kept movies I enjoyed a couple of times, or video games I enjoyed playing a couple of times, and what for? In the battle of quantity versus quality, quantity won for a long time. Friends are not exempt from this category. I used to add people on my Myspace page that I was nothing more than mere acquaintances with, or add people to my AIM Buddy List I’d talk to maybe once or twice. Perhaps it was a manifestation of my ever-persistent desire to be accepted or “popular.” Perhaps I was just a paranoid, insecure kid who thought that people would look down on me if I only had a handful of Myspace friends, or phone contacts. A testament to my stupidity and naiveté, I know.

Right before I moved around July, I started doing an inventory list of everything I had. All my records, DVDs, video games, books, and clothes… scattered in piles in my room with no A/C. Writing down what I had in a notebook. Everything went into generally two categories (with a third category being added, contingent on whether or not I liked something); the “No Shit Sherlock” Keepers, and the “You Know I’m Not Sure If I Like This/I’ve Never Fully Played This To Make an Educated Decision” Up For Review items. It took me a few hours to sort through everything, and write everything down, but I did it. I should have been packing them at the persistent request of my dad and stepmother, but I’m the King of Procrastination. But, I figured that this was a perfect opportunity to at least start such a daunting project, because frankly, a lot of my shit was just taking up room, and was usually purchased at the expense of personal and financial responsibility (a bad habit I’ve had for years; I might be a spend-a-holic).

Now, don’t get me wrong. A lot of the things I own I’m proud to have. My record collection (yes, records, the stuff before CDs and iPods, and even cassette tapes; I’m old school) has some great stuff I’ve acquired over the years. A lot of my finds I’m especially proud of. But then there are some records that I’ve acquired from thrift stores and old collections I’ve come across that I just don’t care for, as well as some overplayed and overrated classic rock albums I owned just to have them on vinyl. Sure, Back in Black sounds great on vinyl, better than on CD, but I really don’t need it. I’m tired of AC/DC! And if I hear their latest song again, which sounds like a rewrite of most of their other songs from the past 30 years or so, I’m gonna kill someone! As for video games, I’m old school as well. I’ll kick anyone’s ass in Street Fighter II (even when I’m drunk, as one of my friends found out one Halloween when I was shitfaced on Dubra), and Super Mario 3 for the regular Nintendo still gets my vote as the greatest game ever made, I don’t care how realistic graphics are nowadays! The most recent system I have is a PS2… I’m like 10 years behind on video games. Not that it really matters. DVDs? It’s pretty easy to buy a movie you like and think you’ll watch them a lot, but I’ve realized that that only applies to a few select ones. Clothes, you wear ‘em out, you outgrow ‘em, it’s natural. Books, you read ‘em once, maybe twice, and they just sit there. I used to think that money bought happiness. I was told that it doesn’t, but I used to prefer finding things out for myself, sometimes at my expense, and sure enough, it doesn’t. As I gazed at my possession sprawled across my bedroom that humid July afternoon, I realized that I felt as empty as I had ever since my senior year of high school. I had been nursing a void that had been persistent ever since I was young (see that long-winded entry about friends and letting go below), and what a pathetic way to fill it… with stuff that you can lose in a fire, or get stolen, Jah forbid.

So for the past few months, I’ve been on-and-off, playing the video games, listening to the records, and watching the films that I had put up for review. It’s an overwhelming process. I put it off a lot. But when I’m at it full force, it feels pretty liberating. The things that are worth keeping, I just put back on the shelves. The things that are not worth keeping I intend to sell (selling being that third category). FYE gives cash for used DVDs given they’re in good shape, so I’ve made a few runs there and got some money back for them. Amelia and I have been consigning old clothes, jewelry, and assorted knick-knacks to a consignment shop, and we’ve managed to rack in a good amount of dough for that. As for my retro video games and records, for now I’m gonna try my luck with eBay. I’m sure I can make some good money off of some of the shit I have! Some of the records I ultimately didn’t like too much are pretty generous in value. I have a mono copy of Jefferson Airplane’s “Surrealistic Pillow,” the original 1967 pressing, and see people sell it on there for upwards to $100, and I’m sure that there are some young record collectors who would like some of my old Van Halen records. Even old Nintendo games sell for a lot of money, depending on the popularity and scarcity of them, since, you know, they don’t make them anymore. For all the money I wasted on them, I might as well try to get some of that money back, and put it to good use. I am in a good amount of debt right now, and I’m just too old for pissing my money away.

As far as friends go, the delete button is still hard to press for a few people. I have a hard time diminishing or extracting people out of my life, mainly for the sole purpose that they’re people. People are composed of blood, skin and feelings, and an old Springsteen record won’t care if I get rid of it. But, you know what? I’m sure half the people on my AIM list and Myspace friends I haven’t had contact with in years won’t be affected one bit if they have one less friend on there. And if they do care, they can always add me back. Myspace is stupid. Fuck Myspace! I just deleted one-third of my “friends.”

Yet, there are a couple of people I’m just confused about. There are people you develop connections with, and there are people you can tell a lot of yourself to, but they turn out to be unreliable. I don’t know whether we’re friends or we just use each other for time, attention and a pair of ears. You know those types… the type that will talk to you once for a long time, then not talk to you for like a couple of months and make it a tedious and exasperating task to even try to hang out with them. I used to be able to take that with a grain of salt. I used to endure my stomach boiling out of anger and hurt feelings and write it off as an allergic reaction to milk, even if I had eaten no dairy products that day. I should just confront them and be like “So are you in or out? Cuz I ain’t doing this shit anymore.” One less person on my mind would be great at this time. I have too much to do to worry about other people’s perceptions and bullshit.

I already went over this “friends suck worse than the people who hate you” thing in my “letting go” entry, and it does fit in with the theme of this entry, using cheesy architectural metaphors. And no, I did not attend “The Plan.” But your life is essentially a house that needs regular and consistent upkeep, and too much clutter just makes your state of affairs a huge mess, and that gets in the way of everything. However, the more progress I make with sorting out my personal inventory, paying off my debts, and getting my life even the slightest in order, the better I feel. Unfortunately, it's like a colonic of the soul. It's a pain in the ass! but the results are positive. Invigoration, here I come!