I like to consider my living space interesting (and adaptable). It has been referred to as “lived in,” “interesting,” and “museum-like.” In other words FULL. The book the life-changing magic of tidying up and KonMari method has sparked a change in me and the way I regard my “stuff” and collections.
BOOKS: I am very protective and miserly about my books. I have dreams of my future where I peddle a ladder like a skateboard across a room to find a dusty book for reference and wield it like a sword of knowledge, knowing it’s exact location. Due to lack of funds and disgraceful housekeeping, I have resigned to Marie Kondo’s visualizing and decided I want to live in a world where I only keep the books that “spark joy,” or hold some possessive power over me and my need to preserve the historical value of good book binding. This visualization lead me to my collection becoming a “Curation” rather than a book rescue home.

I started with an estimated 350-400 books. I lost count and forgot around the 200 mark.
This was probably the first sign I’d have too many to justify keeping them all. 
Admittedly, some of the things here aren’t even books. They’re things that ended up with books because there was a space, or a nook, or I was using it as a reminder of a book, or even an implement to inspire me to write. I left what I had on the now emptied shelf to make sure I was keeping them for a distinct purpose. Textbooks for this class, art I’ve JUST made (it’s a coffin, with a flamingo on it), an empty bottle of holy water (doesn’t matter why- trash), some Lady of Guadalupe devotional items (a growing collection), and a digital recording pen (voice and ink) that I use with a person for collaborative writing, currently.

This is my empty shelf and this is my PILE. I thought to pile because the task seemed less daunting and for motivational purposes, less than 350-400 squats. Standing over it and picking them back up to replace them was eased by categorical organization once I’d sorted them. I had two discard piles initially and decided to make a separate mountain to create the same effect of horrifying accumulation.

In this pile I will identify some things that are definitely worth throwing away, selling/donating (which I will revisit in a minute), and (re)gifting. I’m not entirely sold on throwing things out. I love having extra cash, maybe even to buy some new books, but I plan on parting some to my niece, who is in the process of learning to read. I have also discovered a useful app called “Decluttr” which takes your unloved medias (including books!), pays you (without a shipping charge!), and they are never to be seen or heard again.
•The Atlas: it is a Nascar atlas, which I choose to hide in the photo. My mother gave it to me in 2002 when I had embarked on a 23 hour road-trip after graduating high school. I kept it. it’s falling apart and has post-its of things she thought would be good ideas. I haven’t used an atlas since. I appreciate but almost never use maps now. The memory is so ingrained that I will never need to use it to remember.
•A tiny pink case containing an incomplete set of Garbage Pail Kids collector cards. Why? They’re funny. Why did I keep them? No idea! It’s got the location of where they’ll be going right in the name.
•Stephen King and Tim Dorsey paperbacks. I’ve read them about 20 times each if I had to low-ball. I still love them, I kept the signed hardcovers for apocolyptic trade value. Maybe I can wear the covers out on those next to show how much I truly love them.

This was probably the most emotionally strenuous tasks I have ever shared with books without actually reading them. I had held so much value in books that changed my life that I could quote verbatim. I kept books mostly for reference in things I am currently interested in. Heirlooms for future purge. I put them in a prominent place I cannot reach, but always have to look at so I can constantly ask myself if they are of value. I got rid of the rescued tale of two cities that had been attacked by rot and bookworms. I gave up the 5″ thick home medical reference that I have NEVER USED, accompanied by a funny little gift book about hypochondria.

Rather than having books shoved on top of books competing for space, I have a half of a shelf to spare. What I had initially thought would be the tossing of 10-20 books, I counted a full 70 books I will parting with this round. In this process, I remembered that a part of my makeshift art studio is a hidden 50+ reference books. I am hoping this weekend to tackle that secret trove and aim for this empty space to be full, and my supply cabinet to become more functional. This to me is in fact, joy.  It only took a few hours to do. I got a decent workout by trying to lift each category in one stack. I can see the titles. I know where things are. I know that owning them contributes to my life.

I realize my foolish emotional attachment to books I had only read once, perhaps for a class, because they were a gift, because so and so gave it to me, etc.. I found that it’s the paper, the cover, the image of who I imagine myself to be. The books are proof of the journey that has landed me in the present. It’s the preservation that life I’ve lived that I’m really curating in the form of books. Books I’d never read were wasting space, much like the tasteless people who’d given them to me. I should instead be presenting and representing a better, more positive aspect of myself, and be an advocate for the things that do remain in my life because they make me happy, rather than justifying it as “experience” or an excuse to one day own a rolling ladder. I’ll probably buy that anyway.