It’s easy to procrastinate without a structure. If there is too much ambiguity over what needs to happen next, then we pick the path of least resistance to pleasure. I have four tasks I still need to do this morning, but because it wasn’t clear how to proceed with any of them, I noticed I was about to set off several procrastinative traps. With a structure like this, it’s easier working on projects than procrastinating.
I kept the 10% off coupon in my wallet until the day it expired. I received the coupon after selling off my first batch of clutter – some books I never read on topics that only half-interested me I purchased significantly discounted from some local closing bookstore – and had intended to stop by that favorite store to buy more things at 10% off. Discarding the coupon from its prominent spot was sublimely cathartic. “That coupon was top-of-mind awareness.”
What’s the best gift you can give someone? Something that captures the essence of your relationship in a single object, experience, or meal? Shouldn’t it be a hand-made object that conveys a certain degree of effort and time, which fully expresses the value they’ve brought to your life? Anything else would be rude, right? Considering how often the gifts we give or even receive become common or discarded, shouldn’t we find gifts with more meaning?
I spent about five minutes aligning the lens flare’s blue dot just right. I first motioned the camera so the dot would be inside of two of the branches, then, between the three branches of this tree on the tail-end of my lunch break. This was the only way I could think to calm myself down from the panic attack I had just plowed through, which, somehow I was able to describe while having it.
I spent 5 hours this morning sorting my CD collection that could have been invested in anything else, with just two small boxes to show for it! If I could estimate the time I’ve spent looking over my collection, driving to then browsing in stores for new additions, or considering what I own versus what I need to add, the time would be in the hundreds of hours. Isn’t that a waste of time and money?
I’ve always been frustrated when games like EarthBound have limited inventories. I want to carry more than 99 widgets! Through this process of downsizing my possessions, so that when I move I can perhaps consider a studio apartment in the city, I’ve realized the elegance of this mechanic. It forces you to be strategic! Use items when you need them and discard junk. They are micro-simulators for reducing the physical and mental clutter in our lives.
Why do we buy what we buy? To gain compassion or camaraderie with other people? Is buying an experience any more important than buying an object? You only have the one experience, whereas you can interact with the object multiple times… What about concert shirts that might only be good to wear a few times before they become too worn? What if we just buy something because of convenience, it was on sale, or, clever?
In my zealous concern over not wasting material goods, I have wasted plethoric space. Years of kitchen counters filled with grocery store bags I might reuse as trash bags, half-broken boxes that once shipped something else now storing miscellane, along with worn-out boxes with nostalgic prints that make them hard to use but harder to throw out. Do we discard everything now, unless it has an immediate purpose? Should we keep some reusable clutter available?
I need to fix the lighting in my lightbox. Within my mental checklist(s), however, this task has such a low priority that even if all the lights fall over the next few months there will be no significant impact to myself or my projects. I’ve put time sinks like photography for “The Story” on-hold for higher priority tasks, including writing daily, Seattle Indies writing, and Keyboard Kommander development, with my highest-priority task being moving “Zeal.”
The main problem with owning an unchecked collection of over 1,104 CDs is that though impressive, storage becomes a concern. What should I keep and what should I get rid of depends on one primary question: would I want to listen to this album more than once every ten years? I would run through the embarrassing statistics of what I haven’t heard in over ten years, but that’s online already, so let’s instead explore moving mechanics.