I am materialistic. I like things—no—I like pretty things. Instead of borrowing books I buy them. I have a hard time throwing away old magazines. I like the way a collection of things looks when arranged on a shelf, a sense of completion washing into feelings of ownership. I like texture, form, and color. Pure minimalism isn’t for me. Wood grain, velvet, variegated leaves, and dripping wax. The intricacies of these organic and synthetic things please my tactile brain to no end. When it comes to décor, I enjoy mixing old with new, East with West, and juxtaposing fabric-bound books with the smooth fabricated veneer of a modern bookshelf.
A few years ago, when first taking out renter’s insurance against my belongings, my insurance agent suggested that I make an inventory list of my belongings, marking the replacement value of each and totaling them up in order to fully determine the amount for which I would be insured. The prospect of undertaking such a task was absolutely daunting, so I quickly settled on a generous estimate, and have since adjusted the total to reflect a new computer or furniture.
In these last few months of metered reflection, however, I found comfort in taking mental inventory of not just belongings, but of friends, family, knowledge and experience. Doing so has greatly influenced my overarching appreciation for life and helped to solidify my three-year educational and career plan. I’ve re-committed myself to fortifying friendships and focusing on what makes me most happy. But no matter how much I focus on the emotional and interpersonal, I consistently find worth in my personal belongings.
Not one to miss out on a chance to photoblog, I jumped at the opportunity to leave you with a small sampling of some material possessions that represent different parts of my personality and my life. I doubt I’ll ever achieve the all-encompassing inventory of assets that my insurance agent suggested—for it stills nags my mind as a goal to be achieved—so for now I must content myself with what I have.