As I’m sorting through things to donate or sell, I occasionally get these flights of fancy over wanting to keep all of this stuff to use, until I realize that I never did and I probably never would, even if I were given ten lifetimes to indulge in any of my fancies. Those are the times where you have to say to yourself ‘enough’s enough,’ decide what you truly want, and drop the superfluous projects.
I sorted through some PS2-era games yesterday.
I only really wanted to play half of the games, so I put the rest into a box to decide if I wanted to sell or donate, because that should be a sufficient number of days or weeks to fully let those thoughts settle. I quickly removed Crazy Taxi for the PS2 from the box before leaving for work since that could be a fun game to play still, but some of the others? I’d either never bother to play them or I didn’t like them enough when I did play them.
I get this feeling most selling off these old computers.
It would be cool having a home retro computer museum housing these relics, until I realize that for the time I would want to spend putzing around, I could just go to the Living Computer Museum instead, as I have, and as I have enjoyed in the past. There are projects that define people or allow people to feel free from definition. I would prefer to engage in projects that define me, rather than versions of me that I don’t want to become, or occasionally allow me to disengage from reality for enough of a spell to return fresh.
My selling project is even becoming too much of a project, at times.
As long as it remains fun, though, I should keep doing it. When it gets boring, then it’s time to donate the rest and call it good. I’m not bored yet of selling things, but it’s definitely not on my priorities list, so maybe I am? I have a few more items before I’ve sold off the biggest of the computers and peripherals, and I’m already moving onto the games, so maybe I am bored for now?
It could be oversaturation to get this selling project complete, too.
As I move through some of these videogames, I’m reminded of another project I had wanted to achieve many years ago of having large libraries of videogames on various consoles. I stopped when the prices increased. Now, I don’t care so much. When I have my days off, I spend them not playing videogames or watching movies, as I’ve already sorted through, but catching up on these projects: publishing my writings, watching videos, or reading.
Assessing what we do with our time off is important to deciding our future projects.
I used to love playing videogames growing up and I loved watching movies in college. Now, I struggle to find the time to play videogames or watch movies, even if I’ve set them on my calendar, because writing, publishing, reading, or watching videos or podcasts are infinitely more rewarding projects for me. Although I still like playing videogames and watching movies, since they’re not my biggest passion for right now, I can afford to downsize the ones that I know I won’t interact with for years.
I can always buy it again.
There’s a sort of regret for having purchased items that I’ve never used. It’s OK to feel that but it’s not OK to let that control you. Invariably, some items will depreciate in value to me and the market and some items will appreciate in value to me and the market. The sooner we accept that we burned money, the sooner we can move on from that burned money to earn new money. Maybe we lament the money we’ve lost so that we don’t lose more of it in the same way? That’s fine, unless we take it into the extremes of self-pity or hoarding.
This is slightly uncomfortable territory for me, which is why I write about it.
It’s obvious to me not to spend money I don’t have, but it wasn’t obvious to me until about two years ago not to buy things I don’t love now and intend to love for years to come. Maybe it was part of some deep insecurity or absurdist ephemerality for life? Regardless, as I assess the projects I had stowed away in my hoarding height, I can now see that the attachment to these concepts was more wanting to appear well-rounded, instead of actually being well-rounded. If I owned a large videogame collection, that must surely mean I have played a large variety of videogames, right? Well, I have, even if I don’t own them all, because, well, I say I do, and because I’ve played more than a few.
That’s enough to fill my own definition.
Taking on projects like videogame collection ownership or videogame collection sales should be part of an end-goal that suits us. For me, I’d rather have the space to be freer with my time than having that space impeded by things I’ll never use, but that means deciding more thoroughly in the store if I ever intended to use the item I could buy. We get wrapped up in the moment, enraptured by the promise of what is to come with what is available to us when we acquire a new project. It’s fun, cool, and changes our identity somewhat. What if we’re fine just being ourselves? A little boring is fine for most things if you have one thing you’re excited about, because then you can share that with the world. Just don’t project other people’s projects onto your psyche, because then you’ll be disingenuous and feel uncomfortable, as I had in my hoarding prime, where I owned all these things I barely cared about.
Now, I own fewer projects I care more about completing, and possibly will.
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: This was the reason I sold a computer to a colleague, which I’ll write about in a future essay. I’ve heard of Too Many Games, but I’ve never been there.|
|Related: Other Downsizing Zeal essays.|
|Picture: Generic template picture since there’s nothing visually special here.|
|Written On: 2020 March 01 [From 1:10am to 1:41am. Gdocs.]|
|Last Edited: 2020 March 06 [Adapted from Gdoc, so, second draft; final draft for the Internet.]|