Mergers & Acquisitions

I come into possession of so many small items that I can't really believe it. They crop up like mad, filling whatever space I live in. If this apartment were twice as big, it would be as full. This is true for anyone, I think. You have to be really dedicated to doing without a lot of things in order to keep yourself to a select few items. There was some kind of challenge about getting down to a hundred items, or somewhere around there. I wouldn't do it.

It's interesting to think about some of the things I've had for a while, and how I got them. The big pillow I have that lets me sit up in bed caught my eye when I was casting about for an idea. I've had it for at least three or so years. When I lived over in LA's Highland Park neighborhood, I made my way to the Goodwill nearest there sometimes. I then had few belongings out here, and much had to be replaced. I found that pillow there and snapped it up.

Dolled Up, Fouled Up

I used to go to a lot of Dodgers games. My best estimate is that in the first three years I lived in LA, I went to something like 200 home games in person. That's a lot even for someone with season tickets such as the ones I had the use of. Consequently, I wound up with a lot of give-away items. I may have made mention of the many blankets, posters and little radios built only to bring in the station which then broadcasted games.

There were also the bobble-heads. There may have been more, but I'm presently looking at five on the table adjacent to my computer. There's Takashi Saito, Rafael Furcal, Tommy Lasorda and Russell Martin. I believe that only Lasorda is presently affiliated with the team. The rest are gone, and so are many pieces from these bobble-head doppelgangers. One is missing arms, another is missing the plaque he originally carried, and all are missing bits of fingers, I think.

Something Lost, Something Gained?

One of the first notable incidents for me upon moving to LA was the theft of my iPod. This was a few years back now, and so it's interesting to contemplate what I think and feel about the matter now. I spent more on the thing than I would care to admit, and it meant a lot to me. Buddhists tend to discourage such attachment to material goods, and nothing suggests the wisdom of their ways quite like being stolen from. I doubt whether that happens when you don't have things.

At the time, I did my best to let the thing go. What else could I do? I made some effort to locate it online, as I was led to believe that thieves often try immediately to sell stolen goods. It didn't surface, and I just let it go. A roommate at the time was incredulous at how little emotion I displayed over the loss (though his perspective, drug-influenced as I suspect it was, was probably warped). It just didn't seem like it would do any good, especially because there was no one to be mad at but myself.

What Do You Call It? A Wallet!

I got a new wallet from my father at Christmas. I figure that puts the tally at about ten wallets from my sister and I to him in childhood, and now finally one coming to me from him (which is unbalanced, but not too bad when one considers how the book deficit slants the other direction). It's a very nice wallet, and almost certainly is the nicest that I've ever had. It's made of supple leather, and after some weeks in my pocket still smells like a department store. I think that's good.

It's a considerably more mature wallet than those I've had before with chains and ostentatious insignias. Used properly, it will probably help create more flattering lines on my form, and will be somewhat more impressive when I remove it in the presence of a lady. I say used properly because I'm not exactly the easiest on my possessions. As obsessive as I get you'd think I'd treat them very well and I mean to, but my resolve breaks and I end up going from unreasonable precautions to none at all.

Time On My Hands

The last time I wore a wristwatch was years ago. I used to wear one dutifully for fear of having to inquire from a stranger (or even a friend) what time it was. I never had one of the best watches even within a modest price range, but always had something serviceable. It seems to me that I had one that served as a calculator at one time (and at another time I carried a pocket watch). What was gross and fun at the same time was the smell left on the wrist when the watch, pressed against the skin for hours with no respite, was finally removed. It's one of those indelible smells bound to provoke memories.

For a while after I started carrying a cell phone, I continued to wear a watch. As long as I had that watch, I wore it. It was grandfathered into a dying habit, however. At long last, it broke, and I saw no reason to replace it. Everything it did could be done by the cell phone. The phone kept time and did any other extra things better than the watch ever had. It made no smells and didn't hurt my fingertips when I had to adjust something. How I hated those little tiny buttons on the side of the watch!

Fast And Loose

I tend to draw a lot of possessions into my orbit, and this happens in two ways. One is that I acquire things at a high rate and cannot bear to get rid out them outside of when I am moving. By chance this has happened three times in as many months recently, but I don't plan on another time for a while. The other possession glut is that I have a hard time going out and about with few items on my person. I may not be alone on that any more than I am the other thing, but not having a car means that I can't just have a bunch of things in the trunk at any given time. There is no trunk, so things have to go in a backpack or some such thing.

That makes transit somewhat awkward and somewhat difficult. The choices are that or being absolutely sure of what I need and ruthless in standing by my decision to leave behind the rest, In the past I have always made the first choice and addressed remarks on the subject from friends by saying, "You never know what you might need". In truth the number of times I have needed things from my bag without having been able to predict it is few. Sometimes I need things I felt I would need. I feel like a fool every time I get it wrong like that.