Said he’s going back to find a simpler place and time

Every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector’s passion borders on the chaos of memories. — Walter Benjamin

Apparently I have a thing for collections. I think whether or not we choose to admit it, everyone has a sort of useless accumulation of things gathering dust in the back of our closets or hiding in the unknown territories beneath our beds. Coin collections, stamp booklets, marble jars, the works. Well I have them all.

bottles

I keep everything, perhaps even to a fault. My coin collection is scattered in random drawers and spare boxes. I used to have a piggy bank to collect change, but I broke it for the sake of shopping. I inherited an old collection of stamps in this broken red booklet my mother gave me. I think I looked at it once and it might still be sitting on the bottom of my dresser drawer. All the marbles I treasured and gathered in elementary school somehow ended up in a large plastic bag because I needed the glass jar to hold something far more interesting. Buttons, I think. I bought Beanie Babies just like everyone else, though I lacked the self-control to leave them packaged and protected. They’re piled together in a big plastic bag in my garage.

I won’t lie; I have had my share of collections.

I can’t quite understand why I seem to be so drawn to hoarding massive quantities of junk. Am I a pack-rat? The thought of scurrying around searching for useless trinkets and treasures, a common rodent returning to its filthy den, gives me the creeps. It never occurred to me before that my collections were (and are) essentially useless. People try to justify their strange hobbies with even stranger explanations. Beanie babies– only the ones pure and untouched, of course– were supposed to be a gold mine. A complete set of state quarters was estimated to be worth millions. I think everyone, at some point, buys into this fantasy of one day, years and years later, finding these disregarded, forgotten collections and discovering that they happened to be the key to infinite wealth and unprecedented good fortune.

fishbowlI found this abandoned blog from 2007 by chance. Yet another addition to my growing collection of deserted journals. It’s always a strange experience to look back into the past. Most of the time, it’s such a joke. All the dramatics, all the irrationalities. And then you find moments beneath all those youthful absurdities. Then you find all those really heartbreaking, real moments. It’s those emotions that you can feel once again, just by looking back at yourself and remembering. I have had my fair share of collections. I mean, they’re not particularly useful. They don’t do much but accumulate, but I keep them anyway. Maybe not for any particularly logical reason; maybe just so I can find them, over and over again.

The best part about old collections is the rediscovery.

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About Booki
"Somewhere man must know that self-perception is the most frightening of all human observations. He must know that when a man faces himself, he is looking into an abyss."

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