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?
Should I be more productive with my luxurious recreational time and money?
Sure, I have plenty of regretful purchasing decisions. Anything I sell at a loss or donate seems like a waste of time and money. It’s a skill to sell and I’ve had plenty of disposable income – or seemingly secure finances. When that insecure, negative thinking kicks in too deeply, I’m reminded of an idea: if I enjoyed anything about the album then, don’t regret it now. Tastes change.
I enjoyed those tiring 5 hours sorting through my CD collection.
My knees ached from crouching, bending, and moving constantly – for about 10 minutes. My brain is fatigued from having processed several hundred pieces of data – for longer. The troubleshooting and data processing required for this task is deceptive, but the rewards aren’t just having a more organized environment, easier time moving, or reviving lost items to re-experience.
It’s recovering and reassessing old memories.
I’m listening to a CD now that I’ve been insecure about owning since after buying and putting it in my car, I lost my decent spot in the venue. It’s not the object’s fault, and now that I can look back on it with some perspective, I was blaming the object for misplanning misadventures on my part. That might be why we keep things or throw them away: unrelated memories tied to objects.
I’m keeping it for now for a few more reasons.
The music on the CD isn’t legally available online. The band isn’t popular enough to be worth the time or money to try to sell it. Note: complacency wouldn’t be a good excuse unless I enjoyed the music well enough to listen to it once every few years. So it, along with larger discography collections of bands I do like, is making this first cut. I’m only trimming what I dislike or disinterest me.
I’m keeping everything that isn’t a waste to own.
It’s a waste of time to consider whether or not I like an object enough to own it. It’s a waste of space to keep an object I’m ambivalent toward. It’s a waste of money (or a friend’s goodwill) to store stuff for any amount of time when it’s not an object that continues to provide value.
The Internet might have caused this waste.
If the market value of CDs in 2018 have seemingly dropped to almost nothing, with other physical objects fast approaching, what’s the point of owning versus renting media? To show off plastics?
The luxury of owning these objects is in reliably transporting us places.
|Sources: My collecting experiences.|
|Inspirations: This essay was subconsciously me justifying this cataloging time versus writing, editing, or doing other work that could have been net positive income. I also wanted to include some vague financial references for the certificate of deposit and compact discs acronyms.|
|Related: Other Moving Zeal essays.
— CD essays:
1. Albums: Move, Sell?
2. Luxury of Ownership
3. Album Sorting Algorithms
4. Own and Unheard
|Photo: Four boxes of CDs so far. The first two focused on alphabetical CDs. These two focused on larger discographies to clear up space. ZACA1-4 means: “Zeal, Albums, CDs, A…box,” since I liked that more than ZACB.|
|Written On: October 30th [1 hour]|
|Last Edited: No additional edits.|