Consumerism (and more)

Post originally scheduled for November 28

I want to own almost nothing, live in one room, and soak up the simplicity of life. I started feeling this way a couple years ago at least when I realized or accepted that my apartment is too big and the clutter I am exceedingly good at ignoring is threatening to suffocate me. I felt a little better when the coldest winds of winter struck and I moved my bed into the living room. I am away from a drafty window I never got around to insulating and feel a bit like I live in a studio, which I have thought a lot about doing once I move. The only drawback to studio living would be a close proximity to two cats and a litterbox. BLEARGH.

At the same time that I want to pare down and sell, give away, or burn most of the things I own, I want to go to Target or (and!) IKEA and have a retailgasm. I want to lose my mind buying sheets and towels and bathroom sets in patterns that complement the wall color in the boudoir. I want a stocked linen closet so I can open my guest room -- painted a pale shade of blue, bright white accessories, starring a conversation-starting duvet -- to friends passing through town and pull out a blanket, extra pillows, a towel and washcloth set without a moment's hesitation. I want to provide for the ones I love. I crave a security I do not and have not felt for close to eight years.

I overwhelmed by all the things in my apartment: Tote bags full of recycling that never make it to the bins at the park. Boxes of paper that need to be shredded. Old magazines I don't want to throw away because I might read them someday and if I'm not going to read them then shouldn't I make a very cool collage and ohmyGOD why am I not making more art and living my purpose and finishing that painting leaning against the wall and why haven't I cleaned up that mustard stain yet or recycled those pizza boxes or taken that lamp to Goodwill or bought some decent silverware I'm 40 goddamn years old I should own a set of silverware. And china. I should own some china. Because that's what people DO. And I should be married. Just think. If I get married, I can get stuff.

When I was 17, I saw Thelma and Louise in the theatre. In one of the scenes, a song called The Ballad of Lucy Jordan plays, whose chorus is "At the age of 37, she realized she'd never ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair." The words impact me today almost as much as they did in 1991. While I'm not trapped in suburbia with a husband and kids, I feel like... I hate to say I'm too old to live out of a backpack and take the train across Europe, but my first thought (excuse) as to why I can't is "I have cats." If the cats are taken care of, then I worry about money. I don't feel like I can be carefree and get away from it all, but mostly because I don't know how to make it happen.

I know that if I gave up my apartment and sold/trashed/gifted what I didn't want to keep -- which isn't much, I realize, as I look around the living room alone -- a big weight would be lifted off my shoulders. My primary expense is rent and coming up with the money without a job and without unemployment insurance is proving more and more difficult. Most of my other expenses are related to living here. Once I have walls, I need heat (or cool) and light and of course I need the Internet.

Without those bills, my shoulders could cease being ear rests. I don't know where I would live, what I would do for money, or what life would be like if I couldn't live with my cats, but something needs to give. I might never become a traveling poet who lives out of a suitcase, hoping my next gig will pay me enough to get to the next town, but stuff is weighing me down -- mental, emotional, and physical stuff -- and I have to get out from under it before I start singing Lucy's soft song.