Itty-bitty Living Space

I am certain many people interested in minimalism and simple living have already seen these videos. However, for those who have not, they are worth viewing. Both were filmed by faircompanies and if you have never been to their site, I highly recommend it.




The second video is especially striking and I like what the subject has done with what little space he has. While $800 a month seems extremely expensive for a 78-square-foot apartment, I cannot help but admire the lifestyle.

It is unlikely I could be happy in such small quarters. That being said, I think the important thing to take away from these videos is not the desire to live in “cozy” spaces, it is the process of eliminating unneeded items from our lives.

Pretend you had to move from where you are living now into a space a quarter the size. Look around your home and figure out what would come with you. Would you keep the TV in the kitchen? What about the boxes in the garage? Or the books that have never been opened? Do you really need all those shoes?

Now think: Why wait for the excuse of a smaller living space? Minimalism doesn’t have an area requirement.

Itty-bitty Living Space

It’s not a race.

Since starting my movement toward a more minimalist lifestyle, I have been stricken with the wish to quickly cut away all my unneeded possessions. On several occasions I have had to remind myself that minimalism is not a race with a finish line or a competition with a prize. There are no losers. The speed with which someone can adopt a simpler lifestyle and remove their excess material baggage depends on what kind of lifestyle they lived before. Some of us can easily shed a large percentage of our possessions in just a few days.  This is not the case for me.

In a slightly different situation, I might be very happy simply giving my items away to friends or donating them to charity. However, given the level of debt I have accumulated by purchasing so much junk, it would not be financially healthy to give things away. I need to sell as much as possible to recoup at least some of the cost of my old habits.

The act of paring down my collection is no longer emotionally difficult. I have gotten beyond the feeling of loss watching the stacks of miscellany slowly leave for different homes. Only the logistics of selling so many items remains painful. For the most part, dumping items locally is less profitable than moving them on the Internet, but online sales means time spent boxing, labeling, and shipping. Selling locally is more convenient, but the extra revenue generated by Internet buyers has me torn. For now I am trying a two-pronged approach. Locally sold items will be those that are difficult to ship or are not worth very much. Stuff posted online will be anything valuable enough to justify the time spent in shipping.

I have a few notes for anyone who wants to live more simply and is starting in a similar situation. These points might be obvious to some people, but they were not clear to me at first.

– Selling stuff, especially when trying to get the most out of your items, is difficult, even if you purchased all of it below market value. You need to find a buyer, work out a price you can both be happy with, and if the item(s) sell online, you need to ship them. All of this takes time and time is not always plentiful.

– Do not give up. I have shed material possessions for a couple of weeks and I have recently realized how large an iceberg I am trying to melt. It is easy to get discouraged when looking at others who have already transitioned into minimalism or had more freedom in the beginning to simply give stuff away. We can eventually get there too.

Be methodical. Make a plan and stick to it. Write down what you get rid of, how much you make, and what you are going to purge next.  Systematically paring down will help you stick to your goals and give you a stronger feeling of accomplishment.

The biggest enemy to our goal of living with less is the creeping desire to slip back under the blanket of excessive consumerism. The blanket may be warm, but the protection it provides is imagined, and all it can offer is a limit to how free we can be.

It’s not a race.

Collecting an addiction.

For as long as I can remember, I have been a collector. As a child I collected rocks, coins, stamps, paperweights, seashells, books, and various other bits of randomness. Now, all of those collections have fallen away save books, but I have started a few new ones along the way.

The urge to collect stems mostly from garage sale “hunting” with my mother. She would spend all week circling garage sale listings in the newspaper, trying to decide which three-line classified blurbs represented the best items. This was before the Internet reached mainstream status and long before websites like Craigslist made advertising a sale so easy. Friday mornings we were out the door before dawn to reach the most promising sales ahead of the mid-morning rush. She was mainly on the lookout for antiques, I simply enjoyed wading through giant piles of discarded belongings. These outings became my education into how to find a deal, how to haggle, how to spot an item likely worth more than its two dollar price tag. I loved every minute of it. It wasn’t long before I started picking up small things I found interesting and negotiating the price with the seller. I am certain they found it cute. An eight year old working a one dollar action figure down to fifty cents often resulted in raised eyebrows and a chuckle.

Haggling turned into my hobby. The stuff I acquired was nice, but the items themselves were secondary to the memories of how I attained them. Watching a seller crumble under the weight of my unwillingness to pay full price was my favorite thing in the world. However, even though the items were not the point, they became doorways to that fuzzy feeling. To get rid of the thing felt too much like erasing the memory, and so my collections grew.

Video games became my obsession after I entered college. I started buying them in bulk off Craigslist and Ebay as if making up for not having many at a younger age. I joined online forums dedicated to video game collecting and shared my finds with the community. Fellow collectors’ admiration became my new drug of choice, but their attention spans were as brief as my own and to keep up a high status meant always needing new “cool” or “rare” items to display. Not only did I buy the games, but also promotional items, store displays, limited editions, and more. Money ran through my fingers like water and, like many college students, I paid little attention to my steadily climbing debt.

Following college, the video game collecting only increased. I spent two years letting the collection grow until it filled more than half of the living room in my one bedroom apartment. It is only now, two moves and two storage units later, I have finally come to the tipping point.

The epiphany came when I realized I was an addict in a very literal sense of the word. Finding the next piece for my collection gave me a high, but I began to develop a tolerance. With each new game came a briefer moment of happiness. I had to buy stuff more quickly to feed the itch. Finally, after opening yet another package, this time there was no excitement, no happiness. This bit of plastic and paper was just another thing. My life was not improved by owning it, it was not useful. Just like that my life as a collector came crashing on my head with the full weight of all the debt and useless crap I had accumulated. Something needed to change and it needed to change quickly.

I began selling my collection shortly afterwards. To date I have made back over a thousand dollars, and I have sold only a small fraction of what I own.

To any collector out there who may read this, no matter what it is you collect: I implore you to take a long, hard look at the time and money you have exhausted amassing your pile of useless belongings and consider how you might have spent those resources. Keep in mind that “collecting is just hoarding with a prettier name.” We can make this change. We can move to a more fulfilling lifestyle with less stuff weighing us down, if only we remain determined. We can kick the collection habit.

Collecting an addiction.

What am I? What do I want to be?

These are the two questions I asked myself before beginning the lifestyle change this blog is meant to chronicle. I suppose I might also have asked: Who am I? Who do I want to be? However, this seems less accurate. I know who I am. I am happy with who I am. What I am is a completely other matter.

I am a collector. I am an overweight mid-late 20s college graduate. I am a gadget geek who always needs the next new piece of tech, whether or not it improves my life in any tangible way. “I am a weapon of massive consumption.” I am a stuff person. I own movies I will never watch again and movies I have never watched at all. I own games that sit unplayed and unopened books line my shelves. I have spent money with abandon and put myself in debt despite having a well paying job for someone my age.

What I want to be is someone with less stuff but more time, fewer possessions but more freedom, no debt and fewer worries. So, I turn to minimalism.

I have read that minimalism looks different for everyone because every person has a unique definition of what makes them happy. I am certain that it will look different for me. The “100 Thing Challenge” movement holds no interest for me, though I do respect the idea. Many minimalists have gone to extremes I cannot imagine reaching myself. However, as I progress along this path to less, perhaps I will find myself more capable than I currently imagine.

What am I? What do I want to be?