Parting ways

In Fashion on May 21, 2011 at 1:46 pm

I move a lot. So, over the years, parting ways with ‘stuff’ starts to feel less invested. Then again, I’ve been lucky. I’ve always had somewhere to store something: grandparents, friends, but this time around, I’m really treating this move back to London with maturity.

At first, I thought it’d be easy. Then I started going through my things. Inspection suddenly causes introspection, and that’s when emotions kick in. Memories kick in. I am a hoarder, kind of. But with my moving around, I have also learned to live in confined spaces which meant less things. I thought they were ‘just stuff’, I guess I was wrong.

I thought about selling my stuff on craigslist. Then I decided not to. I’m donating them. My hope is that they’ll make someone just as happy as they made me. I mean, that type of thing is priceless…

Sponge Bob, I’m gonna miss you kid. Even when and if I ever come back to the T.Dot, there will never be another you. Sure, I can go another you, but I’ve had you for over five years. You’ve been through washing machines, you’ve been a cushion as confidant, so many things. You’ve gained so much character over the years. I don’t think I even loved my Barbies this much as a kid. Then again, you were a practical and multipurpose tool.

Ah, my recorder. I bought you how long ago? I can’t remember. But you’re obviously old school. And you’ve been replaced by a more tedious yet high-tech device. But we’ve had some great moments and interviews. With you, I’ve had everyone from Lil’ Scrappy and Brooke Hogan, to Drake, The Cool Kids and Kid Cudi. You have screwed me over and you’ve been my savior. But I think what’s most important is that you were there during the pivotal moments of my career.

I suppose this is why I say I’m a hoarder. When I first left for the UK in 2008 it was a lot worse. I spent thousands of dollars on magazines and books. This time I was much smarter. But, you know, when you realize you’re parting ways with a back issue of Vogue from 1964, matter of fact, you’ve got a time line of magazine at your disposal. You’ve strategically organized your collection from edgy to commercial. And all of these readings, even if you’ve never read them (which hurts even more) come to define who you are and exactly where you’re heading. This is the one reason that I will settle down. Because as long as I’m living, I told this memory close to my heart.

Excuse my language but you see this computer? This right here is the mutherfucker. And I mean that in the nastiest way possible. OK. I’ll admit that it was on its last legs, I was even told that when I brought it into Future Shop when it was acting up. But the fact that it couldn’t just hold on a little bit longer. The fact that it gave up and out on me THE DAY BEFORE I was leaving, that’s just not cool. What sickens me even more is that there’s stuff on there that I need: Adobe Photoshop, Dreamweaver, documents, etc. I was told that after all the costs, it would be better to just get a new computer. Forget that. I need this computer. We weren’t together for very long, maybe four months or so. And maybe I wasn’t the nicest to it, but I was not terrible. I had it on 24 hours a day, this is true. But it became a life line. I need this life line when I get to the UK. Man, I can’t even go on about this anymore. To hell with you.

And yes, there’s clothes as well. A lot of you who know me, who read my blog, know me as all black everything, or jeans, tees and kicks. But I’ve got a lot going on. I’ve got rid of a (real) fur coat I’ve never worn. Beautiful blouses, dresses, colourful ensembles (yes, I adorn colour!) and lots and lots of shoes. I’ve donated them all the my nearest Salvation Army (on Queen and Landsdowne). If even if I don’t see you, I know you copped my shit.

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