This book is the ultimate in possibility thinking. The story of One Red Paperclip made international news back in 2006, so it may ring a bell. Kyle MacDonald is a young slacker who has the bright idea to trade "bigger and better," starting with a paperclip and working his way up to a house. The intricacies are fascinating in their own right, as MacDonald stumbles into the media limelight and starts meeting celebrities. What I like best about the book is his irrepressibly positive attitude. It could be a textbook for the skill of possibility thinking. Cockeyed optimism does actually work from time to time! I'm a slacker, too. I bought this book at least five years ago and I just now got around to reading it. The world works in mysterious ways, however, and the Hollywood Reporter just reported that MGM is "in talks" to make One Red Paperclip into a movie. I hope it happens, because the world needs this story. Possibility thinking does not overlap completely with optimism. MacDonald is motivated by guilt that he's unemployed and that his girlfriend is paying their rent. He has frequent bouts of discouragement, feeling lazy and like this is a stupid idea. He keeps reminding himself that he's on a quest, though, and that he might as well see it through. Part of what makes this endearing is that he focuses on making trades that are meaningful to all parties, rather than chasing financial value alone. What I would love to see happen is for the Bigger and Better game to become commonplace. Due to my professional work with clutter and hoarding, I have a pretty good idea that most households are hanging onto all sorts of unused objects. A few of these are special and could find new life in a new home, where they would actually fulfill their purpose as useful things. SO MANY art supplies, musical instruments, and tubs of camping gear and other sports equipment, just moping in a corner like the Isle of Misfit Toys. SO MUCH monetary value, locked away and doing no good to anyone. We feel so poor and we feel that we CAN'T AFFORD so many things, even as we're knee-deep in stuff. What would we do if we could swap it all for our true heart's desire? If you knew you could start with a random object that was sitting around your house, and trade for the most amazing thing you could think of, what would it be? What would you give up and what would you ask for? I'm writing this from a Starbucks, where I am being barraged with the demonic dissonance of "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas." In November. I saw my first Christmas decorations of the year at the hardware store in early September, and in my neighborhood, they'll be out until mid-February. Anyone who sincerely believes there is a "war on Christmas" evidently thinks that FIVE MONTHS is no longer enough for what was traditionally a twelve-day holiday. I'm done. Years ago, I started avoiding the shopping mall during December. As militant decorators started pushing the boundaries of taste farther and farther, I started restricting my ventures more and more. I cannot bear Christmas music. It makes me clench my jaw. I have broken out in hives after hearing just one bar of one carol. You think you don't like rap or country or opera? Ha. At this point, I avoid going out at all. You can have my parking spot and my place in line. Please, don't thank me, not until March at any rate. I don't want to risk hearing any cheery holiday greetings. The good thing about the cabal of constant Christmas coruscation is that it makes it easy to save money. I don't even want to go to the movie theater or the grocery store, much less the mall. Hyper-consumerist messages equate BUYING STUFF with love, happiness, and virtue. This reminds me that none of my personal values have anything to do with material objects. I love my family, and that's why I talked everyone into ending our traditional gift exchange and replacing it with visits, family dinners, and charity. Take that, holiday consumer machine! What I do during the long, dark month of December is to focus on the New Year. New Year's Eve is my idea of a terrific holiday! A fresh start every year, a built-in milestone to guide my activities for the coming months. We usually get an extra paycheck in November or December, so this is the month when we get to put an extra check toward savings or our next vacation. I go through all the closets, drawers, and bookshelves and clear clutter. We plan meals on eating up everything in the fridge, freezer, and pantry so that we have a clear slate at the New Year. No more five-year-old mustard, no more salad dressing graveyard, no more freezer-burned mystery containers. Most people start the New Year in debt and overweight from the holiday bacchanalia. We start it out organized, energized, with the house gleaming from top to bottom. I guess I have to thank this latest rendition of "All I Want for Christmas is You" for reminding me that I have better things to do in December. All I want for Christmas is an escape. Peace of mind. A couple of Skype sessions with my family. Snuggling with my pets. Catching up on reading. Maybe listening to some nice speed metal out in the garage, with my friend the elliptical. Thank you, Christmas excess, for returning me to my baseline of home comforts and frugality. Now pardon me while I run screaming out the door. |
AuthorI've been working with chronic disorganization, squalor, and hoarding for over 20 years. I'm also a marathon runner who was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and thyroid disease 17 years ago. This website uses marketing and tracking technologies. Opting out of this will opt you out of all cookies, except for those needed to run the website. Note that some products may not work as well without tracking cookies. Opt Out of CookiesArchives
January 2022
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