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Attachment To Old Things


Anileve

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I have a very disturbing attachment to some of my old items. For example my old pink slippers that I had for almost 4 years. They cost me about $1, they are light as a feather, have very soft plastic straps and a foam sole. The edge tore off, and they are losing their pink luster, but I just can't get rid of them. Walking in them feels like walking barefoot on a cashmere covered floor.

 

Do you have any items that are embarrassingly out of shape and ancient but you just can't let go?

 

These are my friends in the attached picture.

slippers.JPG

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I'm not a pack rat... when in doubt, throw out, I say!

 

(Now if only I could apply the theory into practice! :P)

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Same here! I try to get rid of anything that I don't deem useful. Sometimes I trash new things that I purchased in a moment of weakness :) and sometimes I keep old things that have meaning only to me, - like old pair of jeans that I don't ware anymore, but I keep them for some household work, knowing pretty well that it won't happen anytime soon.

 

I'm sentimentally attached to my old lighters (some of them are not working and will cost more to fix them rather than buying new one).

 

I'm a book warm. Never trashed books. :D

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I throw everything away :P I'm so bad at it that sometimes I've thrown away class notes before the finals were actually over and suffered the consequences :msn-cry:

 

The reason I mention the class notes is because I know that not everyone's like me. My brother actually organizes his lecture notes, puts them in boxes, seales the boxes, and puts name tags on them :o

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:blush: :babysmile: Anoushik jan I was recently cleaning up my room and was going to throw bunch of stuff away and found notebooks from QC class and looked at them and initial reaction was to throw them away but then decided to keep them for some reason. Mind you I graduated from school in 92.

 

-----

 

Note to self: go home and throw all that junk out

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I usually keep different unecessary old things (that includes eveything from shoes to papers etc.) for long time. Then I throw all of this stuff away in one day including some other stuff I realy need. Than this cycle starts again.
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Ok, you are all missing the point. Maybe the title of the thread is misleading. I wasn't questioning how you treat old junk but if you have some old items that carry a sentimental value or just plain unexplained attachment. And what are they, and do they have a story? I even revealed my attachment to my old worn out slippers, and posted the embarrassing photo and you didn't reveal anything! You are not playing by the rules!

 

Gamavorchik, did a good job though, although you didn't really tell me about a specific item.

 

I never trash books, I buy so many that I don't have much space left, yet I still buy more. It's like a book mania.

 

Anoushik, your brother is obsessed. But it's fantastic to be so organized. By the way, I am a serious pack rat, I keep so much junk, thinking that one day I'll need them. Plus it feels so awful to throw away so much money.

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I hate throwing stuff away. My plan is to make enough money to buy a house large enough so I can use a large portion of it for storing all of my crap that I just don't feel like getting rid of.

 

I have a pair of old and trashy sneakers that I haven't worn in years. But because the shoes are so broken-in and because I have the laces pre-tied at the perfect level so I can just slip on and slip off I keep them around and tell myself they'll come in handy.

Edited by Arvestaked
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I have a metal 18oz navy coffee cup,the ones sailors use and I 've been using it for years and my wife keeps finding excuses to throw it out but I like Ani just simply love this mug.I do have dozen or so mugs but nothing comes close to this sailor mug. Edited by Armat
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Ok, you are all missing the point. Maybe the title of the thread is misleading. I wasn't questioning how you treat old junk but if you have some old items that carry a sentimental value or just plain unexplained attachment. And what are they, and do they have a story? I even revealed my attachment to my old worn out slippers, and posted the embarrassing photo and you didn't reveal anything! You are not playing by the rules!

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Well, I don't know if this qualifies as an attachment but...

 

I made a small wooden elephant as part of a class assignment in Germany when I was 11 years old. I received 1 as a grade, which translates to A. I also made a small wooden dog, that worked as a pencil holder and was more sophisticated with springy head. Our neighbor's son loved that dog so much that we left it to him when we moved to Sweden. The elephant, however, stayed with me. When we were moving to the U.S. I actually honestly believed that it was my good luck charm. I even included it in my oral presentation about important items in my life in my junior English class. Now it's just sitting on my bookshelf. I don't believe I am particularly attached to it but I don't want to throw it away either without any reason.

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Attached to old things. Does memory count? Because if it does, then I am attached to the serene seduction of the memories of Armenia. Memories of when I was a child, an age trapped between nostalgia and never. The seduction with this chapter of time is so vividly recorded in the archives of my mind that I can draw a map of the surface streets of Yerevan, from my house to Hamalir, to Hrazdan river, to Hraparak, and to my grandmothers house, as well as my aunts house. I shocked my folks when I drew it recently, and I was only 6 or 7 years old when we left. I even remember the street perpendicular to my street, which was called Keyvian, I think, and it crossed another street, Orbeli, and there was a little Russian kindergarden in the corner where I went to. I don't know if the street names are still the same, or if the kindergarden is there, but I assume so. I am attached to intangible old things that I can never get back. There was a little cafe in the corner of my street with Keyvian, and I remember my mom would always take us to have ice cream, and upon remembering, it was somewhat similar to coffee flavored ice cream. I know this ice cream shop isn't there anymore. I know it all changed. But I don't want to see it. I just want to save whatever is left in my mind. I want to visit Armenia but I have this image of Armenia in my mind that I was as a child, the way I knew it then, and it is trapped and frozen in time and mind. If I go to Armenia, I risk having this memory receive crack in its edifice and it will be threatened to be replaced with the 'new' image of Armenia that I will form when I see it. Thus, I am in a paradox of wanting to visit yet not wanting to visit, because of the fear of having my old memories destroyed. And sometimes, just sometimes, memories are more real than reality itself. Edited by Anonymouse
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If we're talking about material things, then I am attached to my one and only doll from Yerevan. This doll is missing eyelashes on her right eye and I couldn't love her any less. :D I used to play with it so many times in Yerevan and in Ukraine. It used to be my mom's doll and when I was born, it became mine. That doll just holds a lot of memories. I remember brushing the doll's hair, washing her clothes, and other girly junk. :P Anyways, that doll is the best thing I have that reminds me of Yerevan and my childhood there.

Something else that I am attached to are these one pair old jeans that I got about five years ago. Sure they're a little ripped right now, but they fit me fine and they are so comfortable.

 

:)

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Attached to old things. Does memory count? Because if it does, then I am attached to the serene seduction of the memories of Armenia. Memories of when I was a child, an age trapped between nostalgia and never. The seduction with this chapter of time is so vividly recorded in the archives of my mind that I can draw a map of the surface streets of Yerevan, from my house to Hamalir, to Hrazdan river, to Hraparak, and to my grandmothers house, as well as my aunts house. I shocked my folks when I drew it recently, and I was only 6 or 7 years old when we left. I even remember the street perpendicular to my street, which was called Keyvian, I think, and it crossed another street, Orbeli, and there was a little Russian kindergarden in the corner where I went to. I don't know if the street names are still the same, or if the kindergarden is there, but I assume so. I am attached to intangible old things that I can never get back. There was a little cafe in the corner of my street with Keyvian, and I remember my mom would always take us to have ice cream, and upon remembering, it was somewhat similar to coffee flavored ice cream. I know this ice cream shop isn't there anymore. I know it all changed. But I don't want to see it. I just want to save whatever is left in my mind. I want to visit Armenia but I have this image of Armenia in my mind that I was as a child, the way I knew it then, and it is trapped and frozen in time and mind. If I go to Armenia, I risk having this memory receive  crack in its edifice and it will be threatened to be replaced with the 'new' image of Armenia that I will form when I see it. Thus, I am in a paradox of wanting to visit yet not wanting to visit, because of the fear of having my old memories destroyed. And sometimes, just sometimes, memories are more real than reality itself.

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We Armenians have strong inclination towards nostalgie. Especially, those of us with more comprehensive knowledge of things in this world. The simple minded ones go on with their daily routine ... and this is healthy. There is too much history in Armenianness. Taking into account that after the AG we became a new nation, I think we should destroy this link with the "heavy" history. We should try to treat our memories as subjects to our will and not let them overwhealm and mould our character. There is nothing "magical" about Yerevan. We even have prostitutes! Which I think indicates in some sick way that eveything is still OK with us. I can guarantee you that even if you destroy your old memories you will leave Armenia with new ones.

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Attached to old things. Does memory count?

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Although your post was extremely beautiful and brought a sparkling little tear to one of my eyes...memory doesn't count as an old thing. So sorry, so sorry, tray lata...

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I have a metal 18oz navy coffee cup,the ones sailors use and I 've been using it for years and my wife keeps finding excuses to throw it out but I like Ani just simply love this mug.I do have dozen or so mugs but nothing comes close to this sailor mug.

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I am sure that your mug is in a significantly better condition than my raggedy slippers. If you would let me borrow your old sailor mug I would pass for a modern day Oliver Twist.

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Well, I don't know if this qualifies as an attachment but...

 

I made a small wooden elephant as part of a class assignment in Germany when I was 11 years old. I received 1 as a grade, which translates to A. I also made a small wooden dog, that worked as a pencil holder and was more sophisticated with springy head. Our neighbor's son loved that dog so much that we left it to him when we moved to Sweden. The elephant, however, stayed with me. When we were moving to the U.S. I actually honestly believed that it was my good luck charm. I even included it in my oral presentation about important items in my life in my junior English class. Now it's just sitting on my bookshelf. I don't believe I am particularly attached to it but I don't want to throw it away either without any reason.

style_images/master/snapback.png

You carved wood???? :o Jeez, why did you have to abandon it? We would have the first female carpenter I have ever known on Hyeforum, now you are a chic pianist. Huff....

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I'm attached to this pocket-book that I took with me to Armenia in 1999. It has phone numbers, addresses, EZ card numbers, notes to self, list of things to buy, short poems written at the spur of the moment (mostly while drinking) and scribbles. I have had that pocket-book with me every time I've gone back. Every year I decide to buy a new one and transfer the important info but I can't. There are only a few blank pages left and it's almost falling apart but I don't seem to be able to part from it ... I guess because it reminds me of so much. Each scribble reminds me of a place and situation.
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