obsessive thoughts of an OCD nomad
~ it is not what we carry with us but what we let go that defines who we are ~
my mom has a room full of furniture for me. it’s all the furniture that was in my room when i was growing up (and which belonged to my great-grandparents), along with a couple awesome walnut dining tables that were my grandparents’ and hopefully two green Ethan Allen wingback chairs (if she does, in fact, decide to re-do the living room). all this stresses me out. if you’ve ever seen my apartment - tragically furnished only about a half-step up from a college dorm with craigslist finds, ikea purchases and, yes, even things i’ve found on the street - you’re probably wondering why, for the sweet love of god, i don’t already have all my awesome bequeathed furniture in my apartment. but it’s not that simple ~ as is usually the case with me.
my parents live within driving distance of me for the first time in my adult life and who knows when THAT will happen again. it also means the closer they get to their next assignment, the narrower my window for claiming all my possessions gets. so why haven’t i driven all this amazing, nice, tasteful and classy - not to mention heirloom - stuff? because furniture is a commitment and i am immensely commitment-phobic (and because it’s a huge hassle to get that much furniture up here and i’m also lazy).
that’s right, to me owning nice furniture is an investment in my future that i’m not sure i want to make yet. yes i have a book shelf that’s half chewed by puppies. yes my couch was sitting on someone’s patio before i bought it. yes i’ve never owned a kitchen table or a washing machine or a vacuum. but, strangely, i kind of like it that way because i don’t have anything i’m attached to. i could easily and without a second thought give all that stuff away if that was what i needed to do (and that was exactly what i DID do before we moved to SF).
but if i had my great-grandparents’ dresser or my grandma’s table i would have to take them with me, store them, or get them back to my parents before i, say, moved across the country or decided to travel around the world. now i’m not saying either of these options are in my immediate future, but it’s nice to know i HAVE options. of course i realize i’m completely blowing this out of proportion: if i had nice things and decided i wanted to travel the world, it’s not like a few pieces of furniture could stop me. but it’s what it symbolizes. owning nice things is one more step closer to settling down, to making a decision for stability over change, and these are things i do NOT want to do at this point in my life, concessions i do not want to make.
i live in an interesting state of limbo right now, and i like it that way. on the one hand i’m married with dogs and investment properties and insurance and taxes and businesses of my own and extensive plans for the future. on the other hand i live in a teeny apartment, eat takeout, jet off to asia for three months, work from home (or anywhere!), and generally try to avoid the shackles of “normal” adult life. and yes, this all manages, in my obsessive/compulsive mind, to boil itself down to furniture.
i suppose eventually i’ll claim my furniture, but i never plan on claiming my place in the so-called adult world. i hope i’m always ready to embrace change at a moment’s notice … even if that means putting my furniture in storage.
January 05 2010 09:44 pm | career and san francisco and the city