Essay-ish: Minimalism tres chic

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No new stuff.

Only new mottos.

About no new stuff.

No new tchotchkes, kittens, magazines, books, planners, planners for next year, journals, salt and pepper shakers, couches, love seats, air plants, gourmet lotions (?), gourmet candles (??), gourmet cooker sets, records, photo frames, posters, pillows, shoes, clothes, lamps.

Hey wait. What’s this?

Does it appear gaudy?

Would three out of five people call it “too much”?

I’ll take it!

No. Put the crush velvet macramé dream catcher down.

Go home. Get to work.

What do you want to do? What do you want to make? How do you want to spend your time?

Hey, did you know your life is slowly being ripped away from you? Every second some piece of you dies in a territorial trudge toward decay?

No, wait, sit down at that computer! Get out from under those covers.

Don’t let all this nothingness scare you away from getting started on making everything you ever *really* wanted happen! We meant that as motivation!

All we’re saying is that stuff has become a distraction. What did you buy. Oh how cute. It is. No I really think so. Here. Take a pic. Use this filter. Look what I got. Saved so much! Saved everything but myself!

Too many things to eventually give away. Too many things that own you when you’re trying to find new ways to own yourself.

“No new stuff” is rooted in focus.

… Or is it rooted in freedom?

You’re part of a generation that doesn’t need a lot of stuff. There’s a store that sells all you need.

As seen on TV.

Even if a zombie came a-knocking on your door, you could just run over to the CVS for a knife kit and Gatorade. No need to borrow sugar from your neighbor or pack up the blankets for next winter. The onion cellar is obsolete when the big box seller is right next door.

If you can’t bring yourself to cut down the amount you own, just take it to mom and dad’s. This is what the Baby Boomers fought for, after all.

Your life is better than theirs in so many ways. You feel safe and surrounded by enough to not have to store empty margarine containers under your bed just in case a Great Depression happens again and you can’t afford Tupperware. You, young adult in 2016, can free up your space, which means you can free up your mind.

No need to put water in your bottle of Pert to help it last longer. You’ve made it in America. You are free.

“No new stuff” is rooted in independence.

… Or is it rooted in guilt?

Is this just how we starve ourselves? A strike motivated by helplessness as the whole world gurgles and gasps under a pile of trash.

On second glance, maybe that’s why the zombies knocking on the door look so familiar.

How do we make this better? They howl with a hunger no amount of corner store cellophane foodstuffs could ever fill.

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