I know I’m well overdue for a blog post, and perhaps an update considering it’s been about three months since my last post. The house has been on the market for about three months (obviously I’m still here). There have been a few visits but no viable offers. Given all the buyers’ feedback, it seems that I’ll be here for a while, and showings will likely decrease during the holiday season.
Yes, it’s a bit discouraging especially as my better half (the economist) is already in Italy. Long distance affairs are always a bit complicated, but I know others have it worse so I shouldn’t complain. So to bide my time, I’m starting on a few projects that I had set aside until I got settled in Rome. Resuming my blog post is one of them.
Yesterday the economist told me: “As a writer you should be able to write about anything.”
I’m sure it wasn’t meant in the literal sense, but lately I have been thinking about “things.”
It’s a fascinating word as it encompasses so many different meanings depending on context. You know, kind of like the word “Smurf” but limited to a noun function (though I have used the phrase “thingy thing”). Yes, I’ve written before that how the economy and moving has impacted the things I keep and buy.
However, there’s nothing like the holidays and no place like eBay to make one wonder about things, especially our accumulation of them and the meaning we ascribe to them. I’ve recently started using eBay as I’ve started a small vintage typewriters collection. This was my first foray into the world of collecting, and it’s been a harrowing experience.
Why vintage typewriters? I’m a casual collector, and I just think they’re neat and fun to use. From a technical perspective, they’re practical pieces of solid machinery and design. You can also alter them to work as an external keyboard for your computer or tablet with a little kit someone ingeniously developed. So, I can understand why others are buying them, beyond a simple appreciation. You can refurbish and resell them for hundreds of dollars to someone else.
Writers can be a superstitious lot (yes, I am) and are always looking to spur creative inspiration, especially from their literary idols. Some visit homes they lived in (I stumbled upon Jane Austin’s house in Winchester once), take writing retreats in the same country, attend the same school or workshop or frequent café haunts of their favorite authors. And, well, others try to invoke the spirits of past writers by using vintage typewriters as a portal (kidding…what if you can’t get rid of them, and who wants Shakespeare critiquing their work?).
But really, what writer doesn’t love the rapid sound of furious metal keys tapping and the ding of completion? Okay, writers who actually know what typewriters are and have used one. Regardless, there are a myriad of emotional reasons why people desire the things they do, and there lies the danger.
eBay is rifled with fakes, sellers who ridiculously over-price junk portrayed as “antiques,” sellers who horde items to resell at higher prices (especially limited edition dolls!) to desperate buyers looking to fulfill an emotional need. Yeah, it’s not that much different than your average shopping experience – well, you’re less likely to get pepper sprayed, shot or need to prepare yourself for physical combat with competitive shoppers on Black Friday.
People’s behavior seems to get worse every year. All this ugly frenzy makes you question people’s desire for things (I question mine all the time).
Do you really need two houses, four cars for one person or a collection of Birkin bags (or old typewriters for that matter)? Can you believe someone wants $125 for a 27 year-old boxed Jem doll (stupid price gouging!), and someone will pay it? Oh, I pity the poor parent whose little girl or boy is pining for the limited “it” toy this year as resell prices will be ridiculous on eBay.
Oh the humanity! Why do we suffer for “things” (besides the societal brainwashing by Madison Ave spiel)? Didn’t we learn from the Red Shoes? Haven’t we taken to heart’s the moral of O’Henry’s “Gift of the Magi”?
Things are meaningless.
This is true; things have no meaning apart from what we’ve assigned to them.
Writers have always used physical things as metaphors. O’Henry’s story is about self-sacrificing unconditional love and this was the true gift but they represented by the physical ones given. It is the meaning of the “thing” that matters, not the thing itself (rosebud, rosebud, sorry couldn’t resist). “It’s the thought that counts” is the expression used.
In a sense things can be physical manifestations of what we desire, and even an expression of our free will. Capitalism or not, people will always want “things” because people need meaning. It’s that personal meaning that makes a good story, but sadly keeps eBay beyond my means (damn shared nostalgia).
So, that’s the complexities of “things” I’ve been pondering as the holiday season’s begun…I think I need to need less meaning in my life.
