Simple Comforts: Candlesticks

My general stance on adding conveniences into our lives in the form of objects huddles around the idea that most times, we can do without. Partly, this stems from the need to keep items in the home to a minimum, for my sanity’s sake, but also, from a grade-A-neat-freak’s wish to keep the house always tidy, without doing the work frequently. Luckily, my upbringing has trained me well to do without. Mum’s always got some saying or other to motivate my siblings and I to toughen the skin, and push through with what we were given to get one thing or another accomplished. Comforts were not exactly at the fore-front of her mind, what with starving children back home from the country whence we came. We can survive a little cold water shower mid-California-winter. We can survive yet another round of rice and beans for dinner (and lunch). We’ve triumphed through 90-degree summer days without air-conditioning, and warmed each other with smiles instead of heaters in the cold winter months.

But I was shocked at how miserably I fared when Mike and I decided to step off the grid and do a three day hike through farmlands in New Zealand. Mostly, I blame the weather for being wet, rainy, windy, and cold. Hiking uphill to an elevation of 700 meters within 6 kilometers was hard enough without the mud, tall wet-grass, cow and sheep manure, and slippery boulders. Interestingly, what I couldn’t mentally overcome was knowing that we were going to end our hikes in really, reaaaalllllyyy old buildings, some lacking electricity, or indoor toilets for that matter. One of the farm homes that we stayed at was so old that it was actually the THIRD home ever erected by a European in New Zealand. Cobwebby doorways and a two minute trek to an outdoor porta-potty was what I had to look forward to mid-hike. In retrospect, it really wasn’t that bad. In fact, there were some joys that I really miss, now that I’ve returned to the year 2019.

Oh the joys of outdoor porta-pottys.

On the third night of our three-day trek, we stayed at a place without electricity. I didn’t realize then but I do now, that it was a joyously pleasant stay. Showering outdoors facing a tree trunk was an exhilarating experience, once I got used to ignoring the large green spider near my foot. Other hikers took pleasure in taking an outdoor bath, warming their water by lighting a fire underneath the tub! Sitting on a wooden plank was mandatory, lest you burn your bum on the hot porcelain above the open flame. Joint efforts in keeping the cabin warm by stuffing acorns, newspapers and just the right-sized log in the stove were joyous. Cooking our meals and dining as a “family” by candle light made our relations all the more special. Of all those memories, it was the candlesticks that got me. That simple comfort was what I have the fondest memory of.

When I was little and still residing in the Philippines, thunderstorms were a regular occurrence. Which meant that electricity frequently failed us. Much childhood-reading and dinner-making was done by candle light. I have memories of quiet nights of story-telling as well as rambunctious nights of pretend talent shows, all lighted by a yellow, flickering glow.

Traveling to Banks Peninsula was like time travel. Not only did the way of life change, like wringing out clothes with a mechanical machine, or hanging them up on logs above our heads, raised via a pulley system and thus making one feel like you were living in the pre-Industrial era. But also, memories that I haven’t thought of in a long while have re-surfaced. Those of my mom sitting in a bathtub and soaking in some peace and rest, reading her book by a single flame. Of moments kneeling on cement floors, praying the rosary in its entirety during times of religious holiday. Of making hand puppets on a blank white wall and giggling uncontrollably. Of trying to do homework before bed-time, when it’s taken more than an afternoon to complete. Do all children have such memories of candle light?

So yes, now that I am back, once again surrounded by modern day commodities, I am feeling a little nostalgic of the candle sticks that we burned in that isolated place. Isn’t it weird, the things that linger? And while I am all for doing without modern conveniences, I’m now of the mind that I can’t do without a candelabra and candle sticks in my home. Should we use limiting electricity as an excuse? If I add this one thing in my life, does occasionally ridding the self of light bulb usage make it okay? I can tell I’m sounding too desperate in justifying this. Nevertheless, obsessing over candle holders for the moment. While vintage stores will probably give me the best (and most sustainable) finds, here are a few new age ones that are also attractive.

More practically, anyone got any candelabras they’d like to de-clutter? Preferably from Grandma, brownie points for brass? I’m all ears (and heart eyes)!

Gift Guide: Day Planners for a Simpler Year

I’m a paper person. I love everything about paper. I love the smell of fresh blank pages as much as I love the smell of weathered sheets, yellowing around the edges and bound together by a thick leather spine. I love the warmth of paper just born, hot off the press. I love thick canvas-y types that I can throw globs of paint on equally as much as tissue paper gently stuffed in a bag. I love the way pencil sounds when it scratches the surface, and the way pen indents, making its permanent marks. I guess you can say that I am a bit crazy about paper, that I have a major paper crush

It makes sense, then, that I lean heavily in favor of all things paper. Books over Kindles, notepads over Iphone notes, mailed letters over text messages, and off course, planners over E-Calendars. Every year, there is one particular Christmas wish that I ask for, which is a new planner to start off the new year. Staying organized is part of the way I create a simpler lifestyle, and although electronic versions of calendars and planners are much more eco-friendly, they are just not as… how to put it… exhilarating? Writing things down via pen is certainly much more inspiring and to-do-list making and crossing off tasks on said list are extremely satisfying. Okay, okay, call me a nerd, but a nerd teeming with ideas, hopes, and a plethora of possibilities.

Before I leave you be with a list of favorites that I have had my eye on, I just want to dismantle the common misconception that a planner is yet another boring stocking stuffer. A planner is practical, yes, but also a very very personal thing. I liken a planner to a perfume, each person with their own particular style and it takes a great degree of intimacy to know just the planner that’s right for a person. Additionally, planners are life-changing, quite literally. It is a space to collect goals, ideas, and, well, plans, for a better tomorrow. And everyone deserves a better tomorrow, no?

So here’s to planners, for all. How do you create a simpler year? 

For the lover of time tables and charts and the list maker. 

For the goal digger and the project planner. 

For those seeking self-care and self-awareness and for those seeking activity.

For the minimalist and the mini lover.

Gift Guide: For Eco-Friendly Habit Shifts

I recently wrote about how we could use gifts as a way to change younger generations’ perceptions of STUFF, but today, I want to share how we (now) can use gifts to help shape the tomorrow we want to see. Here are some gift ideas to help those around you curb their waste in the new year. Not only could it save them money by eliminating single use items from their grocery lists, it could do the environment a world of good.

+ Net produce sack or linen produce bag

+ Wool dryer balls  or suede cleaning brush

+ Wooden pot brush or dish brush

+ Stainless steel straw and a straw brush

+ Recyclable toothbrush and toothpaste

+ Washable towels or reusable facial rounds

+ Reusable coffee filter or mesh tea infuser

+ A KeepCup or Reusable water bottle

+ Portable reusable cutlery set or stainless steel to-go containers

How about you? What are some favorite eco-friendly gifts on your list?

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Simple, Sustainable Gift Wrap

I am not one to take in an eye-sore kindly. I would call that one of my biggest flaws. Things just have to be aesthetically pleasing to be pleasing to me. For that, I am sorry. So when it comes time to start putting presents under the tree, it follows that I cannot just shove them there, unwrapped. It isn’t that I feel the need for another person to be surprised, although surprises are quite nice. It’s that I need the presents to look cohesive, for my own sanity. Which brings me to the following dilemma: less waste for a time of the year when gifts abound.

Last year, I wrote about the art of furoshiki gift wrapping, as a means to produce absolutely zero waste by using excess fabric lying about the house. But after a year has come and gone, I am without any more fabric left to wrap gifts in. It appears that everyone wanted to keep the fabric pieces for their own re-use. This year, I find a not-so-perfect zero waste (zero-ish waste? less waste?) solution from the following:

+ Less gifts, in general. Call me Einstein, but with less gifts comes less gift wrap, and therefore, less waste. This year, I have narrowed down our gifts to ten. That includes required Secret Santa’s at work and holiday parties, and our most immediate family members. Part of this comes from our public renouncement of the gifting of material things, right this way.

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+ Simple methods of wrapping. One of the very first memories I have of being conscious of my wasteful lifestyle involves wrapping gifts at Christmas time. I was 20 years old and I had volunteered to help my aunt wrap the gifts for my cousins (all forty-something of them). I was previously taught by my mother how to make gifts look pretty by adding in additional folds in the wrapping paper and using multiple bows. By scrapping sticker tags when my hand-writing was too ugly to bear. I went about my usual methods of wrapping gifts when my aunt questioned why I was folding the wrapping paper in such a way. I replied, “Because it looks pretty.” To which she laughed and said, “It wastes paper.” Confused, I didn’t understand why that mattered. Off course, my mind mulled the comment over and over again in my head as I continued to wrap. By the end of the wrapping session, I was embarrassed at the waste of gift wrap that I had cost my aunt. I was embarrassed of my frivolous lifestyle. And I saw a glimpse into the world of minimalism that I had yet to discover. Nowadays, I just wrap the paper once around, barely enough to cover the good, and call it a day. A more refined self finds this way of wrapping more attractive anyway.

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Simple materials. I avoid plastic as if I was allergic to it, that you may already know. These days, I find comfort in choosing materials that are natural, biodegradable, or at the very least, recyclable. For Christmas this year, I’ve stuck with twine, string, paper wrap (the non-glossy kind), brown boxes, and re-usable stamps. The color scheme itself is simple, making it easy for me to satisfy my need for cohesiveness. To fill excess spaces in the boxes, I’ve opted not to purchase tissue paper, but rather, use left-over packing paper that has survived our move into our new home a few months ago.

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+ Less wrapping of the gift wrap themselves. If I have to buy gift wrap in order to appease my need to have everything look cohesive, may it be the least-dressed gift wrap there is. This tip goes out to the minimalist (or minimalist hopefuls), to the environmentalists, to the pursuers of mindful living. This year, I went to a local stationary store (and by local, I mean I live across the street from it), and chose a brown paper gift wrap rolled up sans one of those cardboard rolls that you typically find in the center of a tootsie pop wrapping paper. Additionally, it was not wrapped up in cellophane, as they usually are. It was held together by a piece of paper detailing the company from which it came. I also purchased paper tape, with a little green decorative charm, holiday-esque enough to spruce up plain brown boxes (see what I did there?). I purchased yarn that was wound around a cardboard roll, and without the plastic covering (why are they even necessary?!). Lastly, I whipped out my wooden stamp collection and cut up a piece of sketch pad paper to make the name tags. All of this to say, it doesn’t take much to appease my need for pretty. We don’t have to indulge our presents in excessive gift wrap, but I am completely okay with allowing myself something simpler. It’s not perfectly zero-waste, but we can’t always be beating ourselves up for their inabilities to be perfect. We are, after all, human. The point is, we try.

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Small Space Living

Tip 03// Disguising cables

There’s one thing that comes with Mr. Debtist’s love for techy things that I absolutely have difficulty embracing. Cables. A motley crew of them, tangled, multi-colored, snaky things making their way into our rental properties, and now, into our home. I remember the first day I stepped into the boys’ house back when we were all in undergrad, young and carefree. You could say that their cables were of the same nature, a mangled mess, running from the downstairs to the upstairs and in between bedrooms. Even after grad school, their first house that they shared together as working men involved a number of wires and Wi-Fi receptors thrown onto the walls and ceilings, framing doorways, finding their way into boyish loves: computers, TVs, consoles, etc. Complain as I might, there is just no separating my darling husband from his love for video games and reddit, just like there is no separating me from my books. He deals with my books, so I will have to deal with his cables.

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Off course, dealing with the cables can insinuate a whole slew of solutions. The most aesthetic also being the most expensive. Ideally, we would wire the cables within the walls, so that they can snake around, unseen to guests and residents alike. Unfortunately, that would require a permanent solution to the living room, which I am not ready to commit to. We are still living with the hand-me-down couch from my college roommate, a couch that has been in my life for five years. It isn’t perfect, but we are all about making do for now, while we tackle the student debt. But you know how it is. Without the perfect couch, I won’t know the orientation of the room, which means I won’t know which wall the projector will face, which means we don’t know where the speakers will go, et cetera. So the more permanent and ideal solution will have to wait.

I have also considered buying some of those cable covers. The boxy kind that houses pesky wires and run along baseboards, better disguised. We actually had such a thing at our rental, which wasn’t so bad. However, I did not want to buy any more said cable housing knowing the solution is temporary and that it would require creating more plastic waste, not to mention spending.

So along the lines of our daily mantra, “make do with what you’ve got”, I grabbed a stapler and left-over paint from the can sitting in the closet underneath the stairs. I took the wires and stapled them in horizontal tracks along the baseboards, trying to make their way as neatly as possible from the audio box to the projector. I then painted over them in white, LA apartment style. I took a step back, and admired my work.

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It’s been about two weeks since I’ve done this project. To be frank, I have forgotten about the wires. It isn’t so much that they’re disguised completely. They’re only slightly less horrid than before. But there are more important things than worrying about how wiring looks against your baseboards. No one has commented on them, which means no one is really looking at them. Or if they are looking, maybe they approve of the city-style chic my painting over them has tried to mimic. Maybe it feels a bit more New York, emitting the older loft-like vibes of a more mature taste. We look on the bright side of things around here, always.

 

Small Space Living

Tip 02// There is ALWAYS room for a loved one

When we tell people that we are not ready to have children at this time, their next step is usually to inquire about the likelihood of us owning a pet. A feline friend or a canine, perhaps? To which we have shot them down with equal fervor, choosing our own privacy, space, and time over additional responsibility. Why would we want to complicate our lives after everything we’ve done to create space? What we didn’t know was that the universe had plans of their own, and decided that if we were not going to search for an animal to love, I suppose it was going to dump one on our laps, or rather, in the midst of our nightly walking path. I guess it’s a way to fill up the space that we’ve purposefully made room for, with things of meaning and value. After all, that’s what this life we created is all about.

As you can probably guess, we have added a new member to our home. Which begs the question of how to even begin thinking about bringing in an additional breathing being into small space living. The answer is simple and easy. Which is that there is always room for another loved one.

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We were still renting at the old loft and were doing our usual mid-summer night’s walk through the neighborhood, when this orange ball of fluff appeared out of nowhere, and approached us. He didn’t approach with hesitation or signs of fear. Boldy, this little guy walked right up to Mr. Debtist’s bare ankles meowing and literally head-butted him, an obvious indication that someone needing some pets. Mr. Debtist knelt down and gave him a little head pat, which was invitation enough for the fellah to continue purring and head-butting his way into our little hearts. After getting a minute’s love from Mr. Debtist, he came after me. Nudging me with his little ears and rolling over to get some belly pats, it was easy to see that he definitely was an affectionate little creature. Once ten minutes of giving him attention passed, we got up to continue our walk home, and he followed us for a ways, meowing his farewells.

After our first introduction, we started visiting him every night. He was reliably  found in front of the same door, which made us think that perhaps he was owned by someone else. However, the occasional interview with the neighbors taught us that he was a stray cat that appeared around the time we first saw him. One neighbor let him into his business front every morning for the entire day while he was working. When he left for home, he would put the kitty out. Another neighbor would feed the cat when she got home from work. When I asked her why she only fed him wet food, she told me it was because he was toothless, a dagger delivered straight to a debtist’s the heart. A third neighbor took the liberty to name him Tucker.

In mid-September, we closed on escrow! As we were preparing to move, my woes were mostly centered around leaving the loft that was our home the past two years. We started living in that loft before we were even married. We experienced so many moments with close friends and family, and on our own, too. We imagined we would buy one loft just like it in the area. But that’s not where life took us. It took us away from where we first set our roots to grow, and it took us away from that darned cat.

Of all the things I missed most about that place, I didn’t miss anything more than our feline friend. Admittedly, we made some ventures back to the old place for tying up loose ends, and looked forward to seeing his face. Each time, I feared someone else had fallen in love and taken him away from us. Each time, there was a moment I held my breath, in case we found him no longer there.

One week ago, we went on our usual visit, when a neighbor popped up from his balcony and tried to get us to take him home. He praised that cat and really pushed and shoved, but we didn’t budge. We weren’t interested in taking a cat in, or so we said. We would jokingly say, “Let’s take him home,” and look at each other and grin. Mike said he was down if I was serious, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure I was ready to give up space in our new home. Small enough as it is, where would a kitty scratch post go? Or a litter box? More importantly, where does it go so that it is considered to be even remotely sightly? Where can it be placed so that I won’t have to gawk at its ugliness, that fiendish plastic bin being?

Then this past weekend came and went, along with it a series of natural events.

It has been so long since California experienced rain, I can’t even pinpoint when it was. Perhaps we missed the rain while we were away on vacation? My memory pinpoints to June, of LAST year. Well, rain it did this weekend. Sunny, 98-degree weathered Friday brought in thunder and lightning in the early evening, along with a torrent of rain drops. Angry rain, momentarily, and then a drizzle until next morning.

I was walking the three blocks it takes to get to work, in the cold, on the wet, and thought about that cat. How was he faring? Meowing his head off, no doubt. Asking for a warm body to hug, maybe? It rained all of Saturday, and that’s who I kept thinking of. I voiced my concerns to Mr. Debtist, who agreed and repeated that he was down to take the cat home. But still, I hesitated.

Sunday was lovely, in contrast. A day well spent with my parents and brother. In between the socializing, Mike and I teetered between going to pick up the cat, or not. Since it was a sunny day, and I was busy entertaining family, there wasn’t anything to push me over the edge.

Monday … Monday was a different story. Providence brought about dreaded Santa Ana winds. I woke up at 5:30 in the morning, and could not go back to sleep. The double-paned windows creaked in misery, singing a sad song that brought my mind to the cat, once again. Darned cat. Trees have fallen over, in surrender. Has that cat, too? My co-worker brought news of a lady who was killed in the morning by the wind a tree pushed over by the wind. Has the cat suffered the same fate? I couldn’t torment myself anymore.

I texted Mr. Debtist to pick up the cat after work. He drove back to our old place, and there was the cat, waiting. This furry creature weaseled his way into our hearts, and now has a warm home, just before the winter months. We took him to the vet yesterday, and we picked up the minimal necessities. Turns out, there IS room for a loved one and his things. Our small space just got a little smaller, but our lives just got much more grand. The cat’s, too.

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Meet Theodore:

  • Age: Guesstimated to be about 4-5 years
  • Physical Appearance: Orange, Short Haired, Green-Yellow Eyed. Has a small tip of his ear cut off, for when the Rescue and Release Program took him in and neutered him in the past.
  • Almost toothless. Has severe periodontitis, so we are extracting what few, decayed teeth he has left in a few months, to make it entirely official.
  • FIV+. Poor guy, must’ve gotten in a fight at some point with another FIV+ cat. It doesn’t mean he can’t live a long and happy life. Only that his immune system is weak and we need to monitor his health a bit more closely. Hopefully, we give him happy days for the rest of his cat life.
  • Personality: Loves cuddles and head scratches, is very talkative, and social. Feels unsure about his carrier, and does not like the way we pick him up. Not a picky eater, and loves to take cat naps.
  • The newest addition to our home.

 

 

Small Space Living

Tip 01// Make Use of Baskets

A daily qualm for small space living is answering the never-ending question of where to put things. Complicated by a desire need to have everything look tidy and put together, storage solutions run short in our home. Well, acceptable solutions anyway.

Five years of working as a product specialist for retail stores has its pros and cons. Con: Jumbled messes and unabashed eye-sores cause anxiety. Pro: I know just how to fix it.

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Enter the use of baskets. The perfect vessel for wrangling things together in one space, without the need to organize or neatly fold. For well-loved, most-oft-used pieces, stock-piling them into one spot is kind of a necessary thing. The basket keeps everything corralled in a neat space, is beautiful to look at, and hides one dark secret: that I am not perfect and though I can fold a stack of clothing like a machine with perfectly even edges, I do not necessarily want to do it all the time.

For me in particular, the basket I am referring to holds a number of soft sweaters and cardigans. Too delicate to throw on a hanger in the recesses of our only closet, and too often used to continually fold, stack, re-fold, and re-stack. They’re forgiving enough to avoid wrinkles, and look more beautiful laying askew than they do folded into a boxy shape.

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Off course, this applies to many things that are unsightly, but you want to hide. A basket is perfect for holding shoes. Kicking off shoes as you enter the home is a part of life since my mother brought me into this world, and small spaces are less tolerant of shoes lying around, lest someone trips on a stray sneaker. Likewise, we use a basket to hold my beloved Fiddle Leaf. The pot it came in is one of those standard black, flimsy, plastic bins with a clear water tray at the bottom. Throw it into a basket, and voila! Only you readers would ever know.

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The ones we have in particular are made by Olliella. A brand based in London, England and born in 2009, it was created by sisters Chloe and Olivia Brookman. The baskets are made of natural materials which are sourced sustainably. They are fair trade certified and are ethically produced.

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How about you guys? Any storage solutions to keep small spaces organized? Share away!

Curating Closets: When You Have None

It’s been a while, since I’ve written about curating closets, but closets have been at the forefront of [our] minds lately. Mostly, because we have none. I revealed in this post that our living space on the second floor has absolutely no closet space, not even in the bedroom.

Or pantry space.

Or a bathroom door.

Or a bedroom for that matter, technically. Loft living for the win.

So where to put storage? Our lifestyle is salvaged by a lone closet underneath the stairwell, located on the first floor (in the business space). We’ve placed a rod in this “coat closet” and have hung most of our clothes there, underneath the linens. There’s shelving above it, wherein sits our few sweaters that avoid hangers, to prolong their sweet little lives. The space is limited, and what minimalist closets we once thought we had have proved to be, well, not minimal enough. The husband owns too many tees, while I own too many formal a dress. So, a few words on curating, once again.

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It’s dawned on me that the de-cluttering process is one of the most mindful practices I engage in. And I do it repetitively, because there’s still room for self-improvement, as well as self-reflection. Here’s what this new “space” has reminded me:

Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.

I keep returning to this quote. I first discovered it perusing a shelf of cards at Daydream Surfshop in simple black lettering across a blank card. I loved it so much that I gave it as a birthday card to our roommate. When curating closets, I ask myself these two questions: “Does it have a purpose?” and “Do I love it?” Some may say “love” is a bit too extreme of an emotion, but I have found that liking something is not enough to stand the tests of time.

When you must choose between practicality and an item you love, sometimes it pays to choose the loved and less practical.

I was standing in a dressing room stall, holding two pairs of pants in my hands. I had been hiding away in there for thirty minutes or more, and the dressing room lady has checked in on me five times by now. Surely, she must wonder whether I’m in there solely because of the free AC. Not entirely untrue. But also, I was going through a tough dilemma, arguing with myself back and forth. Do I get the pair of practical denim which goes with everything in my closet and which can be worn on most days in casualness, or do I go with the auburn pant that wears beautifully, matches with a lot of my basic tops, but that I might hesitate doing some cooking in, lest it gets dirty? The truth of the matter is, I needed neither. In the end, I had walked out of the store with the pair of red pants in my hand. While practicality would have landed me a pair of denims that have everyday usability, I chose the thing that will make me ultimately the most happy. With something practical, one can wear it every day and never notice anything different. The practical one would not add anything to my life, except maybe a reason to de-clutter other denim pants that I already own. The red pair, on the other hand, will add joy to the every day. Plus, I’ve come to realize that when you love something, you end up using it as much as you possible can anyway. The moral is to choose actions that makes life happy, which is ultimately what we are living for. And when it comes to having items around,  living surrounded with items that you actually care about is the thing that matters most.

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Know what you need for your particular lifestyle.

Speaking of having items around, know what works for you. I have been guilty before of buying things that other people have, with the illusion that I myself may need them too. However, as I grew to know myself, I have found that my lifestyle is quite different from other people’s lifestyle. There were so many things we owned previously that we found we didn’t use at all. A toaster that we had asked for on our wedding registry. Cosmetics that I thought every girl required. A beer tasting set, ’til I realized I no longer wish to consume beer. Specifically for wardrobes, I used to think I needed high heels to compensate for my height, and short dresses to make my legs appear longer. I used to think that tight clothing helped me, and that having my hair curled made me appear more adult. Today, I’d likely grab a tee, prefer overalls, and get itchy when my hair is anywhere near my face. Also, I enjoy the freedom that walking, running, jumping (?) in flat shoes afford me. My lifestyle has slowed down quite a bit, so blogging on couches does not require the same attire as going out to happy hours do. Coffee shops are more forgiving than clubs and house parties. Denim pants are more suited to bread baking than mini skirts. You get the gist.

Learn to recognize sentimentality and guilt. Learn to let the burden go.

The most difficult, and final advice. Too many times have I stared at an item which has not been touched, used, or even looked at for many months [ahem, years], yet still it remained in my possession. Always, the culprit holding me back from saying sayonara was sentimentality, followed by guilt. Handkerchiefs handed down to me from my mom when I was 8 years old, for example. The thought of letting something go makes me feel like I was stabbing someone I cared about in the back with a knife of betrayal. The wild imagery pulls me towards being a “good person” and keeping it for the sake of sentiment, and also, to avoid hurting anyone’s feelings. We must learn to recognize these moments, and then to ask, “what is it’s purpose?” If the only thing the item does is weigh us down with emotional burden, is that really worth keeping? Surely, your loved one did not mean to cause you such turmoil. I have found that creating space gives a higher ability to receive, while releasing negative physical, emotional and mental energy. Be kind to yourself, and know that the weight of the relationship should not come down to material things.

How about your closet space advice? I could use some inspiration. One day, I hope for that downstairs closet to have decent breathing room.