I have way too much shit.
Today I finally moved the vast majority of my belongings out of my old apartment and into our new place. Matt helped me, and even more importantly, so did my dad. I took the bus out to the New Jersey ‘burbs to borrow my parents’ SUV, but because I hadn’t driven in more than a year, my dad decided to drive it instead. We managed to move most of the stuff in two trips. (My brother might help me move the rest of the stuff, which is not very much, next weekend.) When we dropped each load off at the new building, the on-duty guard and the superintendent both helped us unload the car and bring stuff up in the freight elevator. The 27-inch TV that Matt and I struggled to carry down my steps with our combined strength? The guard carried it out of the car and into the lobby by himself. By 1:45 pm we were done unloading stuff, and Matt and I spent the rest of the day setting things up.
We set up my TV and TV stand and my two six-foot-tall bookcases, and we laid out and vacuumed a couple of faux-oriental carpets. I set up my CD collection and unpacked all my books, which is what the first line of this post is all about. I have way too much shit. My books don’t even all fit in the bookcases – there’s a big overspill here in my computer room. And my CD collection is too big for the 450-CD rack I bought several years ago.
I don’t know why I have so many books. Some of them I haven’t even read. Some of them I’ve read and will never open again. But it’s so hard to part with books. And my collection overflows despite my loading up a big cardboard box with books that I’m planning to donate or leave on the street next weekend when my lease ends.
But books are comforting. They’re here for me, with their eclectic multicolored spines, waiting to be read or consulted. Fiction, history, biography, reference, self-help, gay issues, Tolkien. A world – no, an intellectual universe – awaits.
If only I didn’t have to move the damn things whenever I switch apartments.
One of the biggest liberations I’ve found recently has been letting go of books. I have hundreds of the things, but realised that most of them were completely useless. I now go through them on a regular basis, and anything that I can find that I will never want to consult, to lend, or to re-read goes to the second hand store. I get some money, space for more books, and the collection I have becomes more precious, because I know that I’ve actively made a choice – recently – to keep them. I’ve also replaced some dog-eared and well loved books with new editions, in most cases saving shelf space in the process.
I can so relate to this post.
Besides the two bookcases crammed full in my livingroom, the two similarly burdened in my computer room, I have stacks in a well-filled bookshelf in my bedroom. Add to this stack of current and partially unread magazines on my bedside table and secreted in a box in my closet.
Some are like old friends, well-loved, dog-eared, familiar, comforting. I don’t want to replace them with newer, shinier versions. They possess something beautiful just because they are well-read and loved.
It’s okay, I tell myself, and all the patient unread books and magazines waiting all around me, and all the writers they represent. I’ll get to you all eventually. All of your words matter to me. I tell myself, two or three books per week, perhaps another 40 years of reading, that’s 3,000 to 4,000 more books.
Let’s face it, I’ll probably die with a partially read book resting on my chest ….
I used to hang on to books, then decided I was tired of carrying them from place to place. Here in Tucson we have a place that buys “used” books. I sorted out the ones I couldn’t part with and the rest went away. I don’t miss them at all.
You should join BookCrossing and wild release your extra books or set up an OBCZ near your home. There are lots of ways available to find new homes for your books.