My biggest regret in life might be buying too much stuff. People come and go in life. You can get new jobs. Those things which become broken can be fixed or mended, mostly. But when I look back over ten year’s worth of salary and see how far that’s gotten me, there are tinges of regret scattered through the $1 CDs I’m sifting through and the more expensive purchases that I squandered money on almost needlessly.
Will someone regret throwing this box away in twenty years?
Part of the value of objects come from their scarcity on the market. If everyone kept their NES boxes, they wouldn’t go for over $100 online. They’d be practically free!
Objects like this aren’t valuable to me.
Yet I could have seen myself dumpster diving for something like this once, and I don’t judge anyone who would. It’s just a shame that we buy so much and waste most of it.
I’ve been skimming off the bottom of my collection.
Most of it is stuff I got for free or cheap that only held vague notions of interest. I might only like one or three songs on the CD. The object maybe ties to some distant memory.
No use holding onto those objects of regret.
There will be new opportunities for more experiences, objects, and financial acquisitions. So what if I wasted some money in my earlier years on what is probably trash?
It’s time to forge ahead.
Discard everything that is nonessential if you’re living a lifestyle, like mine, where the prize is living by your own rules. Any financial dependency should be questioned.
How many minutes or days will this purchase set me back?
If I buy this food, will I eat it all? Do I need it or is it just something that will make me feel secure? A full pantry in a full pantry surely must mean a full life, well lived, right?
I’m beginning to see that’s not the case.
If I were to donate an object that, like this new game console box, could theoretically be worth more than a few dollars in more than a few years, would I feel bad about donating it?
Maybe just a little bit for a little while.
I will soon start trying to sell some of my middle- to upper-tier possessions that might be worth the time to sell. That money might just go back into groceries for now.
Soon, I’ll be investing my “disposable income.”
On weekends, when I felt like driving to thrift stores, music shops, or anywhere else, I can reroute some of the money I would have spent there into financial investments.
That may seem boring.
The idea is to become financially independent, so I won’t need to worry about where I work. If I can sustain a reasonable living on a low-stress job, why not?
I don’t want the prestige of working for some company as their writer.
I’ll learn what I can, help equivalently, and write/live “independently.”
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: I took the photo a few days before I wrote the essay. During the drive to work, I thought about why I didn’t want to dumpster dive, and when I got to work, I wrote a majority of the essay. The shift in tone does reflect that a little, but it’s a natural conclusion, I suppose.|
|Related: Other Downsizing Zeal essays.|
|Photo: Videogame console box in the dumpster.|
|Written On: May 30th [23 minutes]|
|Last Edited: First draft; final draft for the Internet.|