Have you ever noticed that the more “stuff” you have in your life, the more burdened you feel? Now, I realize that this is not some grand, sweeping philosophical realization here, but hear me out.

I’ve been pondering for quite some time now just how much I abhor the duality of consumerism. All economic and political ramifications aside, consumerism is a shifty and underhanded foe. While it obviously is good business, it drains your hard earned money with little return on your investment. Now realize that this is a generalization, meant to quantify only some of what the average American consumes. Plenty of purchased items are valid and needed assets.

But not all are necessary. The $40 set of kitchen utensils; the three large sets of Tupperware containers; the nineteen bottles of car detailing chemicals; forty candles, in different shapes, sizes, textures and colors; or five hundred and some odd CDs? Are all of these really essential items in one’s life? I fear not, yet I can’t seem to reverse the natural and commanding presence that this Culture of Acquisition has on my life.

Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t see myself as a faceless victim of a society gone wrong. No masked cartel is out shopping with me, forcing me to fork over money for yet another decorative knick-knack for the living room. I do it willingly, freely and often quite happily. But why?

Well, there are plenty of reasons ranging from void-filling to immaturity. But the main root of my problem (read: speaking only personally here) from which most of this mass-acquiring feeds is that, by nature, I’m like the Eternal Boy scout. I have no idea how I got this way, whether it’s a genetic trait from my Irish ancestors or just a learned behavior. Nonetheless, I feel the need to always be prepared, to have the right tool to get the job done well the first time. If it takes nineteen bottles of chemicals to restore the paint on my car to mint condition (therefore enhancing my initial investment), is it an issue? If having a garage full of wood-working tools allows you the freedom to make custom furniture or fix up a house, is it worth it? I would argue yes, but at the same time, no.

See, my main issue is that it never stops. Ever. The further along the timeline of life that I travel, the relentless march of the years procures countless “phases” in my life that with it comes “stuff.” I may be into car audio for many years, which naturally (when wanting to do the job yourself) brings with it a box full of wires, tools and gadgets. I may want to learn how to sandblast metal objects. And guess what? That requires more equipment. I may get further into photography, which? You guessed it…more crap. I feel prepared. I feel secure and even joyful that I am blessed enough to buy the right equipment so that I don’t have to half-ass the job. But at the same time, I’m left with truck loads of crap. I fear ever having to move because it will take nothing short of a professional team to realize the goal of actually getting everything out of one place and into another.

There is no real answer here, I suppose. I cannot turn off either my natural desire to learn new things, or my innate need to be prepared with the right tools. I suppose that in the end I will just have to keep everything in check, doing so only in moderation at all times. I don’t want to be thirty-eight years old and have more vacuums than children, or more dog toys than treasured memories.

This fight is not an easy one, and one that I’ll most likely have to contest the rest of my life (assuming that I’m lucky enough to be able to spend money of frivolous junk). Every shopping trip will be a weighing of “do I need this? or do I just want this?” A delicate balance, to be sure.

All I know is that Target better not keep putting stuff on sale. Except that Todd Oldham crap. You can have that.