Packrat

In many respects, I take after my mother. Not only do I bear a strong resemblance to her, I've also inherited her knack of insight into human relationships, her bubbly and cheerful disposition, her keenness to reach out to others... amongst a whole list of other strengths.

Unfortunately, it dawned upon me today that I may have also inherited a particular neurosis of hers.

In my case, the snowflake that precipitated the avanlanche, may well have been a rubber seed.

When I was a boy scout, 13 years ago, I found a rubber seed during an expedition to Pulau Ubin. My patrol leader had commended me for recognizing it for what it was, and, glowing with pride, I stashed that rubber seed away in my drawer - a little medal of the day.

It was to become the oldest item in my entire hoard of 'treasures'.

Soon, I began to attach emotional significance to the strangest items. A little telescope birthday gift, a candle that saved the day during a black out, a scented eraser from a crush... let's just say that by the time I was in JC, I had one drawer labelled 'Stationery', one drawer marked 'Books' and 45234 drawers of 'Miscellaneous'.

According to psychologists, people who hoard things compulsively, or packrats, have manifold reasons for doing so. Mostly, these packrats attach to the items a physical, potential or emotional value that others don't see.

Armed with the above insight, I finally understood why I just can't seem to make space in my room for new things. Just before I empty a cabinet, I will swear to discard 80% of the items inside, but once I start sifting through my collection, what I end up throwing away barely fills up the pockets on a bikini.

Yes, I effectively merely take everything out and put them back in a different order.

When I moved into a new bunk with Desmond in the army, I thought I had left my troubles behind. Here was a brand new room, one unfettered with years of accrued sentimental keepsakes, finally I would have a fresh start.

Today, if you meet Desmond and mention 'Hanting' and 'room organization' in the same sentence, you can still see his face twitch and spasm as he recollects the trauma.

The latest remedy I'm trying - digitally photographing mementoes before I reluctantly relinquish them. With this new method, I managed to bash a clear path from my bedroom door to my bed. I hope to excavate my table and chair before term starts, and eventually correct the way my house tilts to one side.

Heck, I think I'm going to print this post out and stick it on my wall, as a memento of my re-affirmed determination to kick my hoarding habit.