The things you own end up owning you

Tyler Durden was right, my stuff owns me.


When I moved to Charlotte, I dumped boxes of old computer parts, school books, papers and memorabilia into the back storage shed. Stuff I didn’t want to get rid of, I figured I’d find a use for these things one day. A few weeks ago, I got tired of jumping over boxes to get to things, so I embarked on a cleanup project.

It’s been like a stroll down memory lane, my life, my marriage, my kids, all there in front of me. I thought of having a garage sale for the things I didn’t want, but instead I’ve been making trips to the Goodwill and Habitat for Humanity. The chances of my wife coming home with some of our old stuff is high, she frequents these places looking for hidden treasures.

Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need. We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars.