27 February, 2009, 1238 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

I have decided that I hate things.  Material possessions.  I have too many things I don’t even need.  And I have no attachment to any of my possessions.  Not even my iPod or my laptop.  Maybe my camera (the Diana+ Dreamer) has some sentimental value, but if someone were to steal it, I would be upset not because it was gone, but because of the action someone had taken to accomplish that goal.  Things blow my mind, and people who love things and love to buy things confuse me.  If someone stole my laptop, I would only be worried by my parents’ reactions of anger.

I can live in the same clothes day after day and not need new ones.  I can eat the same things all the time.  I don’t need new things to keep me happy.

Also, candy disgusts me lately.  I still eat it for now, but every time I buy or consume it, I can just feel that it’s a waste and a symbol of wealth and affluence.  People in need do not spend their money on frivolous things such as candy.  They spend it on substantial foods.  Maybe if I didn’t eat so much candy, I would be thinner and more attractive.  Not so cute, able to be something more than just cute.  Instead of looking in the mirror and seeing a tired puppy most days or a three-toed sloth or a rabbit, maybe I’ll see some other animal.  Or a nymph.  That would be excellent.

Vanity also disgusts me, though.  It matters so little, and it’s a selfish thing to care so much what other people think of how you look.  It disgusts me, but I still care so much about it because in order to survive in such a social world, people have to like the way you look.  They need to find you to be an attractive and charming person.  And you can hardly be physically attractive without some trace amount of vanity.


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I think I have the opposite problem. I get so attached to things because I see them as synonymous with my past experiences…I still have a sweatshirt sitting in my closet that I am keeping for the sole reason that I wore it out after junior prom, and that was a night that I want to remember. It doesn’t even fit me anymore. I know I’ll still have the memories even if I give it away, but I won’t feel as connected to that night whenever I look at it. (This is just one example of this phenomena.)
However, I think it is pretty remarkable that you were raised in this culture and are still able to place so little value on material things. They’re way too overrated. A fucking car/Coach bag/North face fleece can’t make you truly happy. I just wish that more people realized this.

Comment by blatantproof

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