Living Collectively

How many people do you know who do not collect some thing? Think hard. I’m sure you will find it more difficult than it seems. Whether it’s movie stubs, watches, clothes, fish tanks or cars, I can’t think of a single person I know who doesn’t reserve some spot on their walls, under their beds, or in their hearts for a particular pleasure. I even have friends that actually collect people, though they may be unaware of their subconscious motives. It’s flattering to be part of their assortment.

The thought haunted me. Why do we collect things? Do all of us? Surely all of us can’t, right? Eventually the idea became words that spilled onto my brother’s girlfriend, Honey. I asked her, randomly at the moment it happened, when we were watching my brother play video games. “Do you know anyone that collects nothing? What would someone who collected nothing be like?”

I imagined, similar to a vagabond, with perhaps many unusual and exciting adventures to share. Barren, un-owned walls and a hippie beard. He probably wouldn’t shower much. It seems the probability of it being a man would be greater as well—women tend to carry bags everywhere they go. Maybe it could only be a monk, dressed in orange robes thinking about thinking. What would this anti-collector if you will, be like? Would they be the violent type, capable of maiming kittens and old ladies? Would their anti-collecting ways foreshadow their sadistic future? But then again, even serial killers collect lives.

“Actually, come to think of it…I don’t collect anything.

It’s me. That kind of person is me.” Honey looked at me like a child admitting to pouring dirt in the coffee tin.

I thought about it. She did not really have collections of trinkets or pets or people. I couldn’t concede to her theory just yet. Not everything one accumulates is obvious.

“I have no hobbies. It’s me.” A pouty frown followed her shameful sounding confession.

“Is it you? You are what someone ‘like that’ is like…?” I said looking at her with new found interest.

I had found my specimen. Or had I?

A day later and it’s safe to say, she’s not it. I’m sure she has a pretty decent purse compilation. One could make the argument that some collections have “themes”. Like accumulating things that bring you comfort, this I believe she does well. All the pieces are there. A super fine mattress, TV, socks, shower gels, and everything one needs to prevent unpleasantness. For now Honey can rest easy, it seems she's no different then the rest of us.

So who are these anti-collectors? Is it even humanly possible? I guess if you wanted, you could argue that even the vagabond gathers his stories and the monk his enlightenment.

Pues, if we are all collectors, what will be in yours?