Vacation Chronicles: Trinkets From Our Travels

Souvenir Shopaholic. n. One who is obsessed with gimmicky, tourist-trap gift shops filled with useless items that are must-haves on any good vacation.

This may not be a clinical term found in any Psychology or Sociology journal, but it ought to be. It is an affliction I suffer from, along side many other enthusiastic travelers around the world. I can usually tell how good my vacation has been by examining two key indicators: 1.) Lack of photos, because we're having too much fun to stop and take them (although this can be deceptive, if where we went involves long lines or wait-times, as those are perfect photo op moments); 2.) How many t-shirts and trinkets I stuffed my suitcase full of (which includes, but is not limited to bags of shells, rocks, acorns, leaves, pressed flowers, etc.). I don't know what makes me think a tall, curvy glass printed with the Hard Rock Cafe' logo is a good idea. It goes with absolutely no dishware that I own and it's a pain in the butt to fill with ice, but I sat writing this blog and drinking out of one, just the same. Perhaps it is the residual fumes from the sunscreen I put on that fogs my brain and my better judgement. Whatever the reason, when I'm in the moment, I've just "gotta have"...magnets that cover my fridge, t-shirts that take up copious amounts of space in my closet (and mostly go unworn), towels and stuffed toys, key chains, pens and snow-globes. I want them. I need them! And I buy them with great enthusiasm and reckless abandon, much to the delight of shop owners everywhere!

I do this "cluttering up" of my life in more ways than just buying bags full of useless trinkets. I clutter up my life with worries that are pointless, grudges that are unhealthy, problems that are out-dated and moot, and barriers that I put in my own way for a myriad of reasons, most of which are rooted in some form of fear. Why do I do this...because there is a "comfort" in the clutter. Without it, I feel naked and exposed. Without it, I feel vulnerable. The absence of that clutter is a lot like opening up a notebook for the first time. You are faced with a book of blank pages and a trepidation about your ability to fill those pages with something of substance. Clutter is the opposite of substance, at least in my world, and I am getting better at keeping mine down to a minimum, in my desire to fill my life with meaningful "everything" (although I still sometimes need a firm "NO" from someone I love). I'm not ready to abandon all of my clutter (...baggage fits here, too), but I'm closer than I've ever been at being able to "keep" only the people and things of real value in my life. And look, I found a use for one of my many trinkets!

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