The not-so-cryptic entry

All these while, I didn't know I was overloading my clothes rack. Day after day, I pile on jeans, bags, tops, blouses, etc. Joints made of plastic and aluminum bars, I failed to notice that one of the joint was cracking. But I did notice from my bed that it was leaning as crooked as the Leaning Tower of Pisa. One day, it gave way.

Unknowingly, I have been piling, storing and keeping clothes that I need and do not need. The more I collect, the heavier it gets.

Luckily, the other leg is still standing. I've modified it to become a one-legged clothes rack instead. I must say that I'm glad that it broke, because this gave me the opportunity to clean up, to put away and to filter through what I need and no longer need. Tops I've had since day one of uni have been neatly folded to be given to charity (if I can find any nearby). Those that I still want but are not part of my everyday fashion now have been put into the luggage for storage.

Tough as it is to be a foreigner, it's even tougher if you're a sentimental foreigner. It is important to not collect junk, and to learn the art of dumping junk. Learning to prioritize is important. Otherwise, moving would be hell.

I must say that my most difficult moment when I move would be to move my books. Oh my books. Although I'm not really a material person, I'm the kind who would spend $200 to buy a sturdy shelf to house my books, and to be shared with the folded clothes (I do have one in mind, but the cost is holding me back). Clothing, bag and shoe shops would close down if I am their only customer.

I don't know whether is it because I grew up in a simple family and in a simple town, where our culture is not one of wastage. We learn to value quality over quantity, and refuse to pay ridiculous sums of money for extravagance. Maybe it's because I grew up hating materialistic culture because of the repetition from writing about it in my karangan (malay essays). I simply dislike yuppie culture but once in a blue moon indulgence is fine. Just today, I decided that professional football is disgusting because of the amount of money they pay to top players and all the other invisible transactions that arise from the consumerism of football.

To end it, I should have said yes when Mr. Landlord asked if I needed a replacement for the clothes rack. Well, he was the one who was there when it happened. I was out. Then again, it would've killed my creativity and satisfaction from knowing that I managed to recycle parts.