As I was packing for my month long trip to the Philippines, I cleaned my room. Not a deep clean, just the kind you do when you want to come back to something decent after being gone for a good while. I dusted the surfaces, vacuumed the floors, laundered what needed to be laundered. And then I stood there and looked at all of it. Containers upon containers of yarn. Knitting needles, crochet hooks, odds and ends of hobbies I've bought materials for but haven't even tried yet. Towers of physical books, notebooks, full pens, stockers. Gadgets, new and old, most of which I haven't touched in months. Clothes still packed in their storage bin from last winter because I never even needed them. So much makeup. So much stuff. And yet some days, I still feel bored. Some days I still want more. I've been in the Philippines for about a week now, staying with family who are — by local standards — well off. I want to be honest about that because the contrast I'm noticing isn't really about poverty…
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