I’ve had an epiphany.
Last night I was talking to my new cool work friend Chloe about her beautiful Instagram feed (how modern!) and I asked her how the background in all her photographs is always so appealing. Like my background always has gerbils and shoes and old cups of tea lying around – how does one create the perfect pure light and airy landscape?
Just fucking tidy up, I would imagine but she said something that has really stuck (in theory anyway).
She said she prefers to own fewer things that she really really loves, rather than have loads of stuff she’s indifferent to. Simple, eh? Makes sense, right?
This is where I’ve been going wrong all this time: STUFF! I’m literally drowning in things and stuff – and something has got to give. This thinking is quite relateable. When my grandmother was preparing to leave this plain (like for real, she had enough and so she just went one day), she started clearing out her apartment, urging family and friends to give her books and pleasant smelling products instead of things.
She didn’t have 77 pairs of shoes or handbags, she didn’t have six denim jackets and a collection of plastic hair clips from the 90’s. She was free of tat and I think I’m ready for this phase in my life.
I want to be truly passionate about the things that surround me. The people, the environment, the things – clothing and jewellery aside (hey I have to express myself, man!), I don’t need all this shit.
I can read books and pass them on. I don’t need to keep old make-up just in case. I don’t need the quick fixes or the cheer-me-up treats. I should save my money for good haircuts and tattoos. Savings. Plastic surgery.
So that’s what I’m going to do now. Level 40 is just round the corner, and I’m going in with a new attitude. If it doesn’t make me truly happy, it can kiss my lily-white behind.
Now where did I put the bin bags?