Why hello there. Let me just start off this blog post by saying, I know. I’m sorry. It’s been a long time. I tend to do this thing where I start many projects, and I’m always very excited about them at first. Then, in time, I lose interest. Well, not so much lose interest and lose the drive to finish the project. It’s an issue, especially when it comes to real-world things like writing papers, or unpacking. And it’s disconcerting, because I often find myself with a serious passion about something, and then I never follow up. Trust me, I’m working on it.
In any case, I’ve been thinking a lot about these little things that make up me lately. 1) I sometimes struggle to finish things without a looming deadline. 2) When faced with nothing to keep me busy, I am not productive. And 3) I am a collector.
When I was younger I collected candy wrappers for a time, keeping a shoebox of them in my closet. I collected movie tickets. And I continue to collect postcards – there is something magical about getting a message from the other side of the world. There are even things I didn’t set out to collect, but that I seem to nonetheless. I can’t help it; I am a collector.
Just some of the many polaroids I've taken.
Is this habit I can’t shake an instinct? I have always felt sort of overcome by the feeling of want when it comes to random things. I can’t explain it, but I can’t throw away that ticket stub. I need you to send me a postcard; I’ve never gotten one from (fill in the blank) before. Now, I am aware of this overpowering instinct, and I can recognize when it’s silly. That shoebox of candy wrappers is long gone. But still, I find myself wondering where I cultivated this love of things. The more I look at it and back at myself, the more I see this American ideal of more, more, more. The notion that one is never enough.
As I’ve grown older, this collector in me seeks to be satisfied in new ways. My laptop says it’s running low of free space because of the amount of songs in my library, and the number of pictures I have saved. This isn’t the first time this has happened, in high school I was forced to buy an external hard drive in order to put off going through my music and getting rid of what I don’t listen to. “What if I want to listen to it eventually?” I would ask myself.
I habitually long for a simpler existence. An ideal that is at odds with my collector-self. Rather than give up, this collector-me says to the more rational me “You can find a place for these postcards,” or “What if you need to look up a magazine article from 2007, where will you be if you throw away these old issues of Rolling Stone then?” As silly as it sounds, my mind sometimes rationalizes away these worries that sneak up – that I’m saving too many things I never use, or don’t really need. And I know that if I don’t deal with this instinct soon it will start to feel much more overwhelming as I sort through the collections in my life. With real life leering at me from around the corner, I feel compelled to sort through these collections, and the organized chaos that is part of my life. I know that I’ll feel better and more calm when I do, but it’s the getting there part that is difficult.
What I would call a professional collection: Philadelphia's Magic Gardens showcases artist Isaiah Zagar's own collection - of junk, and recyclable materials.
I’m currently decorating my new room at school, and the box of postcards and stacks of polaroids I brought with me will soon find a place on my wall. It really isn’t about giving up the collector habit in me, but learning to control and reason with the impulse. And isn’t that more healthy than just squashing this collector instinct? Moderation is a nice balance to strike between simplicity and chaos.
Until next time,
Molly
P.S. Check out "Collector" by Here We Go Magic - a great song that gave me some inspiration for this post.














