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Makin’ copies will only get you so far

I have done a lot of contract work and independent consulting over the years.

One time I needed a copy (or so I thought) of my birth certificate as proof of identity for a particular stint of labor.

The thing with moving across the country is you realize a lot of what you acquire over the years (or at least what I acquire) amounts to piles of papers.

I remember when we had dial-up Internet access and dreamed of the paperless office.

I’m politically indifferent, more of a political atheist than anything else.

But one thing I’d like is the preferential treatment a president has when it comes to proving his identity.

No, I’m not trying to reignite the “birther” controversy. I really do not think the country ever should have worried about this in the first place when our issues are so much deeper and more troubling than this.

But, if a copy of the president’s birth certificate produced online was good enough for the purposes of proving his identity and birthplace, then the fact I produced a hard copy of my own birth certificate for a prospective employer, should have gotten my foot in the door to at least fill out an application.

They wanted the original with the raised seal.

C’mon man!

What’s up with that?

I had a copy of my social security card, too.

They wanted the original for that as well.

C’mon man, again!

I had my original driver’s license but alas I needed a second form of identification that was original and everything else I had were just copies of the original documents.

Oh well.

But we accumulate a lot of paper over time—making copies of everything and stashing them all over the place, just in case. Hey, that rhymed. Just sayin’…

I am so psyched for the contents of my entire 30 years of existence in Colorado to fit in a 6’ x 7’ x 8’ portable storage container.

It has been somewhat of a challenge paring down enough stuff in preparation for all this.

I am thankful to friends and family who have taken some of my belongings like furniture and such off my hands.

I was also able to conveniently donate a lot of books, old computer hardware and software, clothes and kitchen/cooking gear that I had gotten more than enough use from, to our local Goodwill here.

I had someone take my queen sized mattress but I still had the box spring and frame to dispose of.

Goodwill does not take bedding.

I put an ad on Craigslist under the free section.

Bam! Who doesn’t love free to a good home, first come, first served supply and demand based economics, when they need to get rid of something?

Anyhow…

Old papers remain the majority of material I need to go through in the next few days as I’m loading the storage container for transport next week.

Do you procrastinate as much as I do when it comes to bringing in piles of paper, dropping them somewhere and then promising yourself you’ll go through them at some point?

Some point never seems to arrive until times like now, when I’m moving across the country.

I’ve moved many, many times since I’ve lived in Colorado.

Most of the places I’ve lived in here have been razed and replaced with more modern, different structures.

I don’t believe this was a reflection I was living a mostly lower middle class lifestyle playing bars and clubs in the evening in various bands, and working day jobs—which I didn’t quit; I just supplemented them with working musician income.

The owners of the buildings I lived in simply were done with them when I was.

They tore them down and up went something different, as I went someplace else.

Except one time, when I lived in a little place just off the Pearl Street Mall in Boulder, CO. It was a little chunk of heaven, paradise on earth.

Until it wasn’t.

I, along with the rest of the building tenants received notice to vacate the premises. Evidently the structure was in the flood plain—it was possible that during a 100-year flood event, the structure could be compromised as it was lying directly in what would be the path of the destructive flood.

Like the Joni Mitchell song Big Yellow Taxi, they paved paradise and put up a parking lot.

It’s ok to park in the flood plain, just don’t live there (or in your car) if you park there.

You cannot do so even if you produce copies of all major forms of personal identification.

You’ll need the originals when you have to prove who you are for whatever the reason, so remember not to pack them in your storage container.

 

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