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As a ridiculously sentimental person, letting go of stuff is tough for me. From text messages to jewellery to recipes I’ve never made, I’ve always been a hoarder. I once moved three times in less than a year, and all T could say as he did the grunt work was: “YOU HAVE SO MUCH CRAP!”

Yeah, for one person, I did have a lot of crap. Old photography projects. Random books. Shedloads of paper, namely, lyrics to songs I penned back in the day, and drafts of my “great teen novel” that I can’t bring myself to even look at now.

But I’ve actually pared down a lot recently. Perhaps most remarkable was culling my book collection. It wasn’t large by anyone’s standards, but there were very few in there that I liked. I don’t buy books. All of these were gifted, donated, free or basically free to me. So you can imagine…

Until recently, I would have laughed at the thought of ever considering minimalism as something to aspire to. But it’s a topic many of the blogs I read regularly have touched on recently, and like anything else, you take from it what you want.

Living in a small, confined studio leads you to reconsider what you actually need to own. In the future, we’ll have a proper kitchen and utensils. A living room and a dining table, even. A garage and a workshop for T. But for now, this is all we need.

I’m starting to compost, to grow things in our garden – we had our very first baby carrots this month, and I think onions are on the way! – and cut down on the amount of rubbish we put out. I’m not going to make my own detergent or ditch plastic bags in favour of rinsing the bin every other day; I’d rather pay $2 for a box of laundry powder that lasts months, and reuse the free bags we get at the greengrocer. (Real greenies, don’t jump down my throat: we use reusable grocery bags at the supermarket.)

Ultimately it comes down to three things:

Saving money. Don’t buy what you don’t need. Capisce?

Eco-awareness/health. For example, I may not make my own washing powder but I do use homemade, more natural cleaners from baking soda/vinegar. That also crosses over with saving dosh.

Sheer laziness. I mean really, why use more ingredients when you can use fewer? (That’s why I love stonesoup – Jules introduced me to the world of minimalist cooking, plus she’s an Aussie so uses metric mesasurements.)

I don’t know if I can or want to call myself a bona fide minimalist. I’ve never been a shopaholic by any stretch of the imagination, but I still have a lot of trinkets – my clay bears I’ve had forever, a few stuffed toys, and other things (to name a few) which serve no practical purpose but hold some kind of meaning or memory for me. Maybe over time I’ll slowly let go of those too. In the meantime, minimalism to me serves as an extension of personal finance and my own beliefs – prioritising what’s important to me, as an individual, and valuing experience, in most cases, over physical stuff.

What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out?

So, this is going to sound really lame. But here goes.

I’ve always been a bit of a cynic. A skeptic. A realist. A pessimist. Hard, if you like. The kind of person who sees a glass as half-empty (and I still do, because half-full sounds ridiculous and the two f-sounds in a row are icky to articulate).

These days, I like to think of myself as a dreamer/realist. If pushed, I’d describe it as hoping for the best, but planning – always – for the worst.

Last year presented me with a lot of challenges. It was by far the hardest single year of my life. I lived in a bad neighbourhood, in a damp, mouldy house, was the victim of crime, lived with lame flatmates including a filthy, lazy pig who still owes me nearly $1000, was completing my final year as a journalism major with a full courseload and juggling my part-time job with other side hustles, and dealing with an unemployed partner. A frigging AWESOME combination. Thanks, life.

I was frequently in tears. I was perpetually sleep deprived, stressed out to the point of snapping and had several mini breakdowns and nearly ended my relationship. In short, I was a mess, really, and I felt very, very sorry for myself.

The dark passed, eventually. Today we live alone in a dry and warm, if small, apartment. I have my piece of paper and we’re both gainfully employed. I am blessed. And I know it.

The best decision I made this year was to be grateful. To count my blessings. To look on the bright side a little more often, to open my eyes to the silver lining. To stop leaving that responsibility to T all the time. To be a more generally positive, cheerful person, one who’s pleasant to be around more often than not.

You know what sparked this? (This is where the embarrassing bit comes in.) I read The Secret at the start of the year. Whether or not you believe in it – and I don’t really – the most valuable lesson I learned was to simply cultivate gratitude. Starting off the day in the right frame of mind can really make a difference. I appreciate my health, my job, my partner and everything else in my life.

Shit happens. It’s true.

But a little perspective here: I may be hungry sometimes, but I know where my next meal is coming from. I may be cold, a lot, but I have a heater, blankets, warm clothes and a boyfriend with excellent circulation.

I rarely feel sorry for myself these days. I often whine that I need more hours in the day, but that’s because I’m blessed with opportunities to make more money (hello travel fund!), with hobbies and interests, with friends.

I am content for the most part on a day-to-day basis.

I knew it was the best decision ever when I came home one day and T asked: “What’s wrong? You’re not your cheerful self today.”

Nobody had ever said that to me before.

Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different – you’ll find they’re what make you beautiful. (Author: Karen Walrond)

I wasn’t going to participate in today’s prompt. What makes me special? NOTHING. Absolutely nothing. Anything I could possibly say, will apply to countless other people too. It’s the thing, these days, to tell everyone how unique they are and boost their fragile self-worth.

But I will, nonetheless. On their own, none of the characteristics that make me me are particularly interesting. But taken all together, that combination just might be enough to set me apart. Maybe. And If I can’t be narcissistic here, where the hell else can I do it?

• I love solitude and I need more alone time than anyone I’ve ever met (except, perhaps, for my once-upon-a-time best friend)

• But I still like to go out and dance every once in a while. Who wants to take me?

• Unlike anyone I’ve ever met, I love cauliflower but I won’t touch broccoli.

• I enjoy a lot of things that I’m decidedly mediocre at. Tennis. Guitar. Baking.

• Yet, I’m very competitive. It’s why I’m glad my friends have different strengths than me.

• I sometimes talk like I’m on Gilmore Girls and I wish more people would play along.

• I’m good at listening (except when it’s people going on about the minutiae of their job) and prefer it to talking about myself. Apart from when Reverb10 encourages me to, obviously.

• My threshold for annoyance is ridiculously low. If you get on my nerves, it will be patently obvious.

• I crave compliments and positive reinforcement, but never know how to accept them.

• I don’t do caffeine. Really. My stomach lining and wallet are grateful for it.

• I never had any desire to learn to drive. Driving stresses me out to the point that I get clammy and trembly from all my nerves and senses being on high alert. And don’t even start on parking.

• I stroke the numeric keypad on my keyboard when I’m deep in thought. Or bored.

But I disagree that these are what make me “beautiful”. Quirky, perhaps. Frustrating, sometimes.

No, I’m certain that these “beautiful” qualities are in fact universal: compassion, humour, and love.

Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011?

Like Amy, I have a few disparate social groups in my life. Let’s go backwards in chronological order. Lately, connecting more with coworkers outside of the office. A few girlfriends from uni, the kind I probably wouldn’t call first if I was stranded somewhere, but I’d catch up with over coffee or a drink and invite to my birthdays. My main crew from high school, although some of them are probably more T’s friends than mine (it’s complicated). My girlfriends from before that, whom I don’t see often enough.

At the risk of sounding like a total jackass, I find it hard to make connections. I have no idea how I made the friends I’ve made, actually. I’m generally hopeless with small talk. I find it so tedious talking to new people about my job, my relationship, explaining where I was born, retelling my life story, and all of that. I’m better at asking questions and showing interest in their lives. Sometimes I even do it well. But taking it beyond that initial stage and to the next level…I don’t know how to do it, and besides, how do you know if that other person even wants to?

I don’t mind not having a busy social calendar. Like I’ve said before, I like how I’ve got things set up. I like cooking dinner every night. I like not having to stay up till 3am doing freelance work like I did one night last week because we were out well past midnight. I like having the time to lose myself in learning a song and playing often enough to maintain calluses, or at least some toughness in my fingers, because starting from scratch hurts like a mofo. I like not wasting perfectly good food that’s gone off because we were barely home four evenings in a row. Weeks like last week are fun, but not all the time.

But yes, community is probably something I could use a little more of. People in Auckland.  A professional community perhaps. Otherwise, the closest thing I’ve developed this year is a blogging community. PF and non-PF alike. I’ll definitely be hoping to meet up with some of you when I make it over eventually.

What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?

Unlike what seems to be the vast majority of bloggers, who all seem to have Etsy shops and make cool necklaces and bracelets out of rusty tin cans and other things found lying around the house…I’m not a crafter. I can’t even draw! I get the cold sweats at the mere mention of Pictionary. Ask me to draw anything trickier than a house or a car and I freeze. (My sketch of a bicycle was once mistaken for carrots. No joke.)

No, the last thing I made would have been something food related. I bake at least once a week, and at least one of my days off is usually spent mostly in the kitchen. While I am probably better at cooking (marginally) as it’s less of a science than baking, I have a strange addiction to playing with dough. Whether it’s pizza dough or cookie dough, I could spend all day kneading and mushing and rolling. And the very last thing I made was shortbread, which was surprisingly easy and most of all, DELICIOUS.

One thing I would like to do is update my vision board. The name is a little misleading; it’s not very visionary at al. It’s more of a motivation board, really. Pictures to remind me of my goals and motivate me to accomplish them. Before embarking on that though, I need to sit down and nut out some resolutions for 2011.

In other news: Thanks to Miss T at Prairie EcoThrifter for including me in this week’s Carnival of Personal Finance! I’m currently leaning towards shelling out for the full car insurance, but would love your input if you haven’t already weighed in.

And the news you’ve been waiting for: The winner of my $60 CSN Stories giveaway is…Gem! Yay, I’m emailing you right now.

How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?

That’s simple. Stop. Slow down. Take a moment, or several, to pause. To appreciate. To cultivate a habit of gratitude and observation, no matter how busy your day.

For me, wonder is closely associated with nature. It’s running through Cornwall Park in the middle of the afternoon, blood coursing through my veins, breathing in so deeply I can feel it all the way at the bottom of my lungs.

It’s the sound and smell of waves lapping on the beach; the startling cold of plunging into the early summer sea, the pungent salt almost visible in the air.

It is the crunching of crisp, russet autumn leaves under my shoes and the glorious pink of cherry blossoms bordering a quiet street.

It is the baby-soft skin on my boyfriend’s inner arm and the squeal of his – our – baby niece.

It’s walking home clutching a bag of fresh fruit on a scorching day, looking up to see nary a cloud in the cerulean sky, feeling full to bursting with the sheer energy of being alive, of having all your senses stimulated, of being able to appreciate the amazing, beautiful world which I am a part of.

And it’s also stepping back and assessing what I’ve done and where I’ve come from. It’s sitting around the table with my girlfriends from school, and realising that five years ago we were graduating high school, and today we’re a doctor, audiologist, accountant, osteopath, scientist, journalist.

Wonder is a wonderful thing. I want more of it.