Exile or Exultation

Once I decided to quit my job and go walkabout in northern Spain, a few things had to be dealt with. Namely: the reality of a consumer trying to leave it all behind. So what are we supposed to do with the closetful of clothes that definitely won't be coming in our backpack to Europe,  and where do we ditch that "charmingly retro" '80s couch we inherited from our parents' basement? More importantly, how do we make it all disappear in less than a month?

These are big questions. Luckily for us North Americans, we have been raised to believe that one person's trash is another's treasure. And everybody wants to find their own personal treasure. I may be a reluctant consumer, but I live in a society that has bought into the idea that we are what we own. The biggest contradiction in this is, we tend to value quantity over quality, thereby lessening the resale value of pretty much everything. What does this mean for me? I might be able to get rid of everything I own, but I'm not likely to make much money doing it.

The first thing to do is decide what is worth something to you (and to somebody else) and what you'd be okay giving away for practically nothing. I'm talking about the difference between selling stuff online at reasonable prices directly to people who are looking for those items versus having a big-ass garage sale where people will offer you 25 cents for your brand-new blender. The trouble is, we all value our own things more than anyone else values them. You can grumble and try to barter, but ultimately, if you want it gone, you will take that 25 cents.

Don't let yourself believe that you don't have personal feelings for what you own, because you do. We all do. Those placemats were a gift from your grandma. That is the rug you vomited on after that epic party you'll never forget and yet can't quite remember. That brand-new blender made the smoothie you drank the morning after you had sex with your boyfriend for the first time. We attach memories and meaning to everything, including inanimate objects that keep our lives in running order. Selling this stuff becomes a trip down memory lane, and it is also the reason most of us can't stand to move or declutter our houses, no matter how much shit we keep cramming in there.

But a cluttered house is more than a metaphor for our unhappiness; it might just be the cause of it. The more we own, the more responsibility we have to bear. The more we buy, the more we have to eventually get rid of. What I find so interesting is that most people don't think about where things come from, who made them, what materials they are made of, what processing and electricity and man-power went into making all of the items we buy at Walmart and Costco. We just see them and want them and buy them. Desire rules our consumerized brains. But that is only half of the story. The really disastrous side of things is where they go when they've lost their value to us and we are done with them and throw them away. This is the part of the story that most people would rather not think about, would rather not know. Where does all this stuff end up? And most importantly, whose responsibility is it?

I think it should be the consumer's, first and foremost. Everything we buy should be thought of as a process, a circle of life. Do I need this to survive? Will I value it when I own it? Will it be reusable? Will it recycle easily or biodegrade naturally? If not, what the HELL am I supposed to do with it? I believe that if everyone thought of their consumer items in this way, there would be a serious change in the way the world thinks about capitalism. If we didn't think, "Somebody made this useless piece of crap so it must be valuable," but rather "How did our world get to the point where someone thought that it would be a good idea to make this useless piece of crap?", then our world would head in a much more sustainable direction. I think it is the consumer's responsibility (and obviously the manufacturer's as well--quit making shit nobody needs!) to look at what we buy and demand a change in the way we all consume. Things built to last, things made to be reused, things with more than one purpose. But of course, it still comes down to personal greed. Do we really need everything we want? Absolutely not.

This reminds me of a story I heard a few years ago about a guy who decided to carry his garbage around with him everywhere he went. I've looked, but can't find any record online, so if anyone has heard of him, or something like it, please let me know! In my search, I found a bunch of other fantastic initiatives, both personal ones and community-based ones, so check them out! Google "Zero Waste Challenge" and "Zero Garbage Challenge." Fantastic ideas! Anyway, that is a whole different tangent!

My second garage sale!

So, once you've sold all your valuable items online, and you've had a garage sale or two to make the last bit of money from your stuff, there are still a number of great places to get rid of unwanted consumer goods. There are some wonderful charities that collect unwanted items so they can sell them to make money for their cause. These include (in Victoria specifically) the Salvation Army, Women in Need Community Cooperative, the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, Value Village, and a variety of other thrift store donation places. If you still want to try to make some money on those clothing items that just aren't going to fit in your backpack, then consignment stores are a great way to at least get some cash back. The only problem here is that they will only give you a small cut in the profits when the items sell, and that could be months after you've taken them in. This takes some serious long-term planning, and there are no guarantees. One place I know of in town, Leche's Clothing Exchange, will purchase your things outright and give you money for them. But like all consignment places, they only take what they think they can sell.

So to end on a personal note, I'm sitting on the floor, having sold almost all semblances of furniture, looking at my apartment that will soon be empty. I have 5 more days before I load up my U-Haul and head back to the prairies, and I find that now that the major work of selling and donating my stuff is done, I'm in a bit of a vacuous place, ready to leave but not quite able to. Three more days of work; a few more dinners out with good friends; the final packing of my things. I've done my last grocery shop for the week, and I've bought all the gear I need for my adventure in Spain (good quality gear that will be reused for years to come!). So now what do I do in this weird state of limbo?

This week, and month in general, has felt a lot like exile rather than embarking on an exciting adventure. Ten years' worth of goodbyes must be not only said but also felt, and I find I've been on the verge of tears for an entire week. So many excellent people have given me hugs and farewells, and any ill-will toward others quickly disappears when you say goodbye. Fond memories are the ones that last. I guess all that's left to do is switch my focus from saying goodbye to Victoria to saying hello to the possibilities ahead. http://youtu.be/HBZ8ulc5NTg