Use your stuff

Or how holding onto things for that perfect moment doesn't make sense

Something I wrote last week stuck with me. Not in a ‘oh-my-god-what-beautiful-prose’ kind of way, more in a ‘wow-I’m-really-like-that-huh?’ manner.

In the piece, I mention that I like to keep my graphic novels pristine, not reading them in uncontrolled situations. You know, like in bed or on a bus or anywhere, really. Since then, I’ve come around to a different way of thinking, and it’s all because of a tweet:

Okay, yeah, not this exact tweet, but one linked to it. This one:

For whatever reason, it resonated. The tweet is both silly and profound and made me reflect, because, yeah, I really do have a habit of saving things for some imaginary future date.

There are dozens of records and comics still in cellophane at my house, gifts I’ve been given that remain unopened, and some clothing I’ve still not worn. Why? I don’t honestly know. I just do it. I store all these items away like a hamster on an episode of Hoarders.

Yup, this is a hamster hoarder alright.

An interesting paper by Jacqueline R. Rifkin and Jonah Berger published in the Journal of the Association for Consumer Research has an explanation. The pair argue that when we “forgo consumption” of an item, it can make it feel increasingly special.

As this object’s sense of worth increases, “it becomes less likely to be used in ordinary occasions and more likely to be reserved for a narrower set of extraordinary occasions.”

To rephrase, by not using something we artificially increase its value. Eventually, it becomes so precious to us, there’s never the right situation to actually use it.

This view makes sense — but I don’t think it tells the full story. For me, not using something is tied to potential.

One of the emotions that underpins buying something, whether that be art or consumer tech, is the idea that this specific thing can change you. All you need is this one item, one comic, one bit of hardware, and everything irritating in your life will be solved. You’ll find a new way of being, of thinking.

It’s like buying a scratchcard and keeping it in your pocket. In that moment, you’re in a Schrödinger's cat situation; anything can be true. You could be merely seconds away from a life changing moment, and there’s something satisfying about that potential.

But, of course, that’s a lie. It’s imagined. Fiction.

No single item or incident will change your life in the way you daydream about. Instead, it’ll be real and flawed — yet far more important because of that. You’ll never experience anything unless you actually experience it.

So unwrap that comic, wear that shirt, play that record — whatever it is, use it. Life is as special an occasion as it gets.