I am very comfortable with my materialistic nature. My good friend suburban_gypsy once dubbed me a "materialistic consumer whore", a label I now wear as a badge of pride. My things are precious to me. I chose them with agonizing care, and they are a part of who I am. I love my things, and I am not ashamed of it.
Take my cell phones for example. I was one of the last of the people I knew to get a cell phone. Not because I was afraid of the technology, or had anything against it like many people. But because the ones that were being made just weren't good enough yet. I didn't want one of those clunky lunch-box like things as a part of my life.
When I finally did buy a cell phone, it was a Samsung 8500. I couldn't tell you the specs, but I can tell you that when it closed it had a satisfying *snap* that was both soft and decisive. It was from the first generation of flip phones, and the weight of it in my hand felt sturdy and yet elegant at the same time.
My next phone was the Samsung A500. It was so tiny! The buttons glowed a pretty blue, and the inside screen was in color! I remember the awe I felt the first time I saw the amazing picture on the screen. The buttons had a dainty little click when pressed, and the itty bitty LED on the outside was shaped like half a gum drop. It felt like magic and spaceships in my hand.
I have kept all of my cell phones, over the years. As each one past its time, I couldn't bear to part ways. Except for the first, I kept all of their original packaging, and though they all bear the scars of a life well lived, I like the thought that at any time I could charge them up again and turn them on.(*) Like saying hello to old friends.
Recently, it came time to retire my beloved LG VX9800. I placed it back into its box, nestled among its manuals and power cables, lovingly finding a place for it next to its companions. And I realized...
Man, I've got a lot of junk.
I may eventually have to come to terms with the fact that my tradition of keeping my old cell phones and their accompanying accouterments won't... scale. And it is possible that that time will come within the next week or so, when I assemble my recently purchased shelves and clean out my closet. But as I sit here tonight, looking at these lovely little remnants of a person I once was, I can't help but think...
I love my things.
* A theory which by the way, I have never tested. I am afraid I will find that they do not function properly without a valid network account to connect to, and I will be heartbroken.