Binge and Purge
Due to my upcoming move, I am forced to dramatically scale back my possessions. I am smack in the middle of this process right now.
Let's talk about craigslist. Who buys other people's junk? For real, who are these people? I say this expecting full well that this will be me once I arrive in NYC. Also, I know the answer: a dude named Mark who works for ClearChannel (a.k.a. the devil), a mormon financial planner who modifies Toyota Supras in his spare time, a dude who has his secretary handle the transaction, a chiropracter (also named Mark), and my friend Cat. With this limited sample, I conclude that the average craigslist buyer is male, professional, and named Mark.
Thanks to craigslist, I am minus three sets of speakers, a stereo, a cordless drill, and a set of golf clubs. Next on the hitlist is the guitar.
I am preparing approximately three hundred pounds of books for their exit from my apartment. If you happen to have any old textbooks lying around, I would recommend blue rectangle. They are going to take half a dozen textbooks off my hands and give me approximately five dollars per. I find that remarkable considering they pay for shipping and each of these books is at least six years old. The remainder of my collection, with very few exceptions, will be dropped off at the public library.
This exercise of purging my worldly possessions is ... pleasant. I think that's the best word to describe it, pleasant with a twinge of je ne sais pas. When you live somewhere for five years, intertia is inevidable. For me, I have even been in the same apartment for five years. Making the mental decision to leave Salt Lake City was the necessary first step. Parting with the possessions seems to be an excellent second step. Intertia being a function of mass, reducing stuff equals reducing mass yielding less intertia. In other words, all I have to do is haul off my three hundred pounds of books and in return I feel a marvelous sense of freedom. First tangible step to New York: done.
Let's talk about craigslist. Who buys other people's junk? For real, who are these people? I say this expecting full well that this will be me once I arrive in NYC. Also, I know the answer: a dude named Mark who works for ClearChannel (a.k.a. the devil), a mormon financial planner who modifies Toyota Supras in his spare time, a dude who has his secretary handle the transaction, a chiropracter (also named Mark), and my friend Cat. With this limited sample, I conclude that the average craigslist buyer is male, professional, and named Mark.
Thanks to craigslist, I am minus three sets of speakers, a stereo, a cordless drill, and a set of golf clubs. Next on the hitlist is the guitar.
I am preparing approximately three hundred pounds of books for their exit from my apartment. If you happen to have any old textbooks lying around, I would recommend blue rectangle. They are going to take half a dozen textbooks off my hands and give me approximately five dollars per. I find that remarkable considering they pay for shipping and each of these books is at least six years old. The remainder of my collection, with very few exceptions, will be dropped off at the public library.
This exercise of purging my worldly possessions is ... pleasant. I think that's the best word to describe it, pleasant with a twinge of je ne sais pas. When you live somewhere for five years, intertia is inevidable. For me, I have even been in the same apartment for five years. Making the mental decision to leave Salt Lake City was the necessary first step. Parting with the possessions seems to be an excellent second step. Intertia being a function of mass, reducing stuff equals reducing mass yielding less intertia. In other words, all I have to do is haul off my three hundred pounds of books and in return I feel a marvelous sense of freedom. First tangible step to New York: done.
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