revalue love over lust in all my interests

I’m more or less at a juncture where I could begin to make this happen. The ‘lust’ has to do with fixation, habit, which when broken usually leaves the door open to a new fixation, but I suppose for once could be turned toward letting it all go, and perhaps loving everything in the right measure.

So it’s been films films films for a long time now, consumed at record pace since I’ve been unemployed. But something in the last week or so — spending long days battling computer viruses or organizing my life instead of watching movies? burning myself out on Lubitsch, and having only the less-than-thrilling silents ahead? rediscovering last.fm and acquiring a ton of new, exciting music? — has brought me to a place where I could choose anything at all for my time, instead of the usual compulsion deciding the question for me.

The natural instinct would be to move on to a heavy music phase (I haven’t had one in two years, and the iPod could use a complete overhaul)—already I’ve spent hours retagging my music and adding gigs of new stuff. Or in a week or two I could go back on movies intensely. Or, if I’d commit myself, and work it into everything I’m trying to do to organize and structure my life generally, I could find the time and love for everything again.

I mean, I have music back in my life and, equally importantly, I’m podcasting to stay in touch with news & interests again. I could watch no more than five films per week. I could set aside time to read before bed. I could learn to do what I love and only when I love it, rather than obsessively consume. I could work toward this now…

But will I? Because I could just as easily fill and refill my hard drive with Jacques Brel and Lux Radio Theater episodes and this whole new world of jazz I’m discovering. This would actually require discipline; it’s not as vague a goal as it sounds. But discipline is a thing I lack entirely. So we’ll see…

What should have been obvious to me all along, but what I’ve just now put to real thought is that one thing that separates love from lust is longevity. Owing to this, I’ve begun sitting on possible purchases and coming back to them in a few weeks to see if I have 1) money to buy them and 2) interest still.

Especially where Etsy is concerned, I’ve begun saving the items I really like and coming back to them in a couple of weeks. What I’ve found is that many of them are momentary lusts that I’ll have no true use for and that if I buy them, will cost at least 2 hours’ work. Not good, essentially. Of course, this isn’t completely about purchases, but the symbolism seems an important one.

Ultimately, I think what I need to remember here is that in most cases, lusts will dissipate rather quickly while loves tend to stick around. I need some patience is all.

As I said, it was obvious, but where nonhuman interests are concerned, I need to remind myself.

When I’m feeling as restless and inconsequential as I have been lately, I tend to turn to grocery shopping or laundry for a sense of independence. Last night, I went to the drug store, looking for nothing in particular, but in the mood to spend $5 on perhaps a bottle of bubble bath or bath salts or hair products—something I could use in a quest to pamper myself. I found 2 different nail polish colors that are absolutely beautiful. I never find nail polish I like, so I buy the next best thing and let it be. Last night though, I bought a shimmery nude and a purple-mauve that matches one of my sweaters and for $7, I’m absolutely satisfied. What’s best, they won’t sit in a box never to be used.

It’s small, but it’s something.

...it seems too integral to pass up.

While I was in college, primarily, words were lovely for the sake of themselves, but books often became objects of lust. I’d collect anthologies to display proudly, but I’d only read what was assigned for class. I’d proudly display classics while being able to boast having read only a couple of them. Posters weren’t a matter of actually liking the images so much as having something to cover the walls, something to amass. Clothes, similarly, were given as gifts and kept in my closet, unworn. Why not take them back or exchange them for something a little more me?

Not that I’m a hoarder or a conspicuous consumer, it’s just that I know what I like and I know I’m insanely particular, but I always feel like I should branch out, expand my interests and subsequently, I try new colors, new schemes and invariably, they end up becoming clutter.

Must take a second to breathe, then, to realize that there are things I do, in fact, favor and there are things I do, in fact, not. There is no reason to follow anyone else’s definitions with regard to personal taste and so I will either love something or leave it on the shelf or the hanger or the rack at the store.

This covers everything, I think. Books, furniture, food, clothes, apartments, cities, activities, people, etc.

I know better, it’s just so easy to get caught up in the sparkle of it all. No more, eh?

I have an obsessive personality. I like to consume things. I like to acquire things. I like to tick items off lists and say: “Look here! I have done it!”

This is a natural and rather harmless preoccupation of mine, but gradually it begins to diminish my love for things. I love literature, but when I get on a book kick my love gives way to book lust: need to acquire an enormous library of great books whether or not I feel particularly interested in reading them. When I get on a film kick, I need to see every film on the 1000 Films You Must See Before You Die list, whether or not they’re what I’m in the mood for at the moment.

I need to CALM DOWN, cultivate an attitude of circumspection, and LOVE what I love. When I get a point on BookMooch, I don’t have to use it right away; it can wait until something on my wishlist pops up. Now, during Oscar-baiting movie season, I don’t have to watch every new release… Well, yes I do have to… This requires dismantling. :)

My progress goes back and forth—this is an inveterate trait, after all. Yesterday I weeded out all the books I do not really intend to read, that are not really “me,” and now my bookshelves really are a thing to behold. Now there is space on the shelves for each volume, and the collection will be much more transportable when I do move. The poor rejects can be Mooched out or picked up at a library book sale by someone who can give them a more loving home. And now my books make sense, at last: there is real affinity between them; I love them all.

But then I had to have the new Leonard Woolf biography and paid full price for it: all right, but I’m going to sit down and read it first thing, not let the pretty little thing sit on a shelf for years and years. No point in acquiring for the sake of acquiring, listing just to mark something as done. I will remember what sparked my obsessive behavior and get that spark back!