It sometimes takes moving from one state to another to realize just how much stuff you have in your life. And I mean stuff in the simplest form of the word.

There’s all the clothes. The books. The computer and other electronics that all seem to lose their shine the second you break the seal. The box of old photos of people you no longer talk to and insurance paperwork for cars you have long since upgraded.

You surround yourself with this stuff long past its shelf life, though it’s understandable why you do it sometimes. It’s hard to let go of certain possessions that hold sentimental value. That note from your first love. That piece of jewelry handed down from grandmother to mother to daughter. And sometimes you even hang on to that sweater knowing full well you moved up a size with no hope of a return ticket.

Stuff. Even the word sounds dull and unnecessary.

Like many reporters and editors I have stacks of newspapers everywhere at home. They sort of just pile up on you without warning. That’s not counting all the binders full of newspaper clippings that need to be kept for posterity’s sake. It doesn’t take long working in this field to be completely surrounded, even when you’re alone.

One of my favorite flicks is “Up In The Air” with the ageless George Clooney. In short, his character holds Tony Robbins-style seminars bemoaning American’s obsession with tangible objects. He uses a backpack as a metaphor for all the things – including marriage, mortgages and day-to-day responsibility – we carry on our shoulders. Pretty deep, if you ask me, though I’m sticking to just the physical objects we own. The whole metaphor is just a tiny subplot of the movie, but one that always leaves me eyeing some of the knickknacks I have accumulated over the years.

I have done some research on minimalism and the type of people that swear by the lifestyle. Of course, there’s no one-size-fits-all approach to ridding oneself of materialistic goods and living a little bit more lighter.

It wasn’t until I moved back to New York (I deserted my residency post college), that I realized I had way more “things” any 29-year-old should need at this point in life. And of course it makes sense; you are literally taking all your worldly possessions and cramming them inside a truck. Speaking of, to sit back and see your life summed up in the back of a rented U-Haul can be pretty surreal.

I know it’s probably easier to donate some of those sweaters and toss out those old love notes before trekking elsewhere. But I just threw everything in that truck and used the time driving to put a plan together. Now that I have settled here the simplifying has officially begun, one garbage bag full of old items to charity at a time.

Even with all of that being said I’m not quite sure how to actually live as a minimalist. I still need clothes and paperwork and a computer. And there’s no guarantee I won’t collect more stuff as I get older. But alas these are all problems I can worry about down the road, and at the moment I’ve barely learned to crawl.

This long, rambling and self-serving piece isn’t meant to shame anyone or project my views onto you, the reader. I do believe, however, that typing these words have reinforced my desire to live more with less. I know that’s kind of a campy way to end this, but it worked well for Clooney. And all he needed was that backpack to get his message across.