Hoarding as a hobby
My house is crammed full of stuff. Old books, old clothes, old LPs and, adding to the family (so to speak), old CDs. And that's just the stuff I collect. On purpose. There's a great deal of crap I have no use for ever, that seems to insinuate its way onto and into various bits of furniture, all around the house. Bank statements from 1997, letters from long since pension companies telling me how little I had saved 12 years ago. Why do I keep all this stuff? If I do notice that some bastard hacked into my account 10 years ago, what the hell can I do about it now? And as for the pension people, my money's probably been 'reinvested' in a house in Malibu.
Am I an old romantic fool who likes to wallow in nostalgia? I don't think so. I've not lead much of an exciting life. Certainly nothing that eventful happened then that I hark for. Mainly my life was spent working and getting drunk a great deal. Which is what your supposed to do in your twenties, isn't it? Now, in my mid-thirties I look back with great fondness on those times, but I don't want to re-create them now. Christ almighty, it takes me a full 36 hours to recover whenever I drink these days, I'm not about to kill myself chasing some rosetinted dream
So, we can rule out nostalgia and romanticism, which only really leaves one thing. Laziness. Bone idle laziness. Now here I must hold my hands up. I am one lazy fucker. I really am. I can't even be bothered to get a girlfriend. Yes, that's what it is, I can't be bothered. I'm sure if I did bother, then... Anyway, laziness. That and a real apathy for throwing things away. Add the two together and you get, well, me.
I opened my sock drawer the other day, and what did I find? 10 CD covers (cds missing), a porno book (well thumbed!), a booster kit for telephones, complete with 10 metre cord, 5 pairs of socks, and one pair of underpants. Plus 100 record cards, each carefully and lovingly left blank. Two pens (none of which worked) and some old letters from a dear friend of mine who moved one year and forgot to give me her forwarding address.
All this leads me to computers. The hoarders dream? Not necessarily. Now we can store all our music, photos, films, correspondence and virtually everything else into a small box in the corner of the room. Everything that I have lying about me, all in there, and, at the touch of a button, I can sort how I want it. By date, genre, file size, alphabetically, numerically, by importance. Pretty soon there'll be no hard copy of anything to file away. Even the very books we read will be primarily downloadable.
All this means that future generations will miss out on something wonderful. Something that can gladden the heart on the most miserable of days. Finding and playing that lost CD you thought had gone forever. Opening a book, and out recovering an old photograph or love letter that brings a tear to your eye. That sudden link to the past. So evocative and emotive. It's a beautiful feeling.
Not so long ago I was sorting through some old files, when I happened across a stack of old photographs of my parents when they were in their twenties. It had such a powerful effect on me that I had to sit down, and cry a little. There were pictures of me and my sister when we had just moved into our house (the one I still live in - I'm 36 next week, and it'll be 35 years I've lived here). What made it so sad is that I couldn't go and show my mum and dad, they're both dead now. But it was still a happy moment for me to see them again so unexpectedly, healthy and happy and in their prime.
The computer generation will miss all this. Yes, everything is stored away on the hard drive, and backed up in case of an emergency. And yes, you can just click on the relevant directory and go straight to the pictures from 20 years ago. But that will be all. There won't be love letters hiding in drawers next to outdated statements. There won't be the empty CD covers behind the sofa. Half the fun of looking for something is that you invariably end up finding something else that's more interesting. Hard to do when you don't have to search.
Everything that defines you in one small box.
"There's my computer. It contains my life."
I'm glad I'm a hoarder.
Am I an old romantic fool who likes to wallow in nostalgia? I don't think so. I've not lead much of an exciting life. Certainly nothing that eventful happened then that I hark for. Mainly my life was spent working and getting drunk a great deal. Which is what your supposed to do in your twenties, isn't it? Now, in my mid-thirties I look back with great fondness on those times, but I don't want to re-create them now. Christ almighty, it takes me a full 36 hours to recover whenever I drink these days, I'm not about to kill myself chasing some rosetinted dream
So, we can rule out nostalgia and romanticism, which only really leaves one thing. Laziness. Bone idle laziness. Now here I must hold my hands up. I am one lazy fucker. I really am. I can't even be bothered to get a girlfriend. Yes, that's what it is, I can't be bothered. I'm sure if I did bother, then... Anyway, laziness. That and a real apathy for throwing things away. Add the two together and you get, well, me.
I opened my sock drawer the other day, and what did I find? 10 CD covers (cds missing), a porno book (well thumbed!), a booster kit for telephones, complete with 10 metre cord, 5 pairs of socks, and one pair of underpants. Plus 100 record cards, each carefully and lovingly left blank. Two pens (none of which worked) and some old letters from a dear friend of mine who moved one year and forgot to give me her forwarding address.
All this leads me to computers. The hoarders dream? Not necessarily. Now we can store all our music, photos, films, correspondence and virtually everything else into a small box in the corner of the room. Everything that I have lying about me, all in there, and, at the touch of a button, I can sort how I want it. By date, genre, file size, alphabetically, numerically, by importance. Pretty soon there'll be no hard copy of anything to file away. Even the very books we read will be primarily downloadable.
All this means that future generations will miss out on something wonderful. Something that can gladden the heart on the most miserable of days. Finding and playing that lost CD you thought had gone forever. Opening a book, and out recovering an old photograph or love letter that brings a tear to your eye. That sudden link to the past. So evocative and emotive. It's a beautiful feeling.
Not so long ago I was sorting through some old files, when I happened across a stack of old photographs of my parents when they were in their twenties. It had such a powerful effect on me that I had to sit down, and cry a little. There were pictures of me and my sister when we had just moved into our house (the one I still live in - I'm 36 next week, and it'll be 35 years I've lived here). What made it so sad is that I couldn't go and show my mum and dad, they're both dead now. But it was still a happy moment for me to see them again so unexpectedly, healthy and happy and in their prime.
The computer generation will miss all this. Yes, everything is stored away on the hard drive, and backed up in case of an emergency. And yes, you can just click on the relevant directory and go straight to the pictures from 20 years ago. But that will be all. There won't be love letters hiding in drawers next to outdated statements. There won't be the empty CD covers behind the sofa. Half the fun of looking for something is that you invariably end up finding something else that's more interesting. Hard to do when you don't have to search.
Everything that defines you in one small box.
"There's my computer. It contains my life."
I'm glad I'm a hoarder.
posted by Edwin McBedwin at 8:09 PM
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