Do I care?

I find myself saying, "do I care?" in response to varied aspects of life that I observe these days, to the point of wondering what it is that I do care about (for a moment at least, before I realize what is at the root of this "not caring"). I don't care how my hair looks or what clothes I wear, or more specifically I suppose, I do not care for styled hair and fancy clothes. I don't have an appreciation for formal pictures (this point comes to focus as I have to get senior pics. why preserve a completely fake and posed image of myself when candid photos (that actually carry real memories with them) can be enjoyed so much more?). I don't care for jewelry, or any thing that does not serve some use for the survival or betterment of the person. I despise brand name clothing. Putting sweatshop and cost reasons aside, brand name clothing has no personal character. It is what someone else decided was cool (for the season) and everyone else copies that. I only buy/wear tshirts that say/promote/depict something that I actually care about or have an interest in. So I do care what I wear; it is just dress clothing that's ridiculous. I don't understand why we dress up to go to church. Do we think God cares what we wear while worshiping? Hardly. Why do we find it necessary to make ourselves uncomfortable (esp. high heels for women)? Ties are just plain silly (completely functionless). Clothes serve two functions: warmth and modesty. I almost question modesty as an absolute. It is very important for the sexually perverse culture in which we live, but if a society did not put so much attention on parts of the body as private, would modesty really be necessary? (Again, it definitely is for this society.) But that is a tangent (not that this whole paragraph isn't just a stringing together of random streams of consciousness). What I came to realize is that anything that I "don't care" about relates back to my call to poverty, and that it is really an expression of caring about that call. I'm literally disgusted by my room right now, being surrounded by all of my extraneous possessions. I have way, way, way too many polo shirts. I can't believe all of the junk that I've bought in the past. I'm feeling like doing some winter cleaning (wait, it's still fall...). I don't like feeling disgusted; it's not a pleasant feeling. I'll be much happier once I clear out the clutter.

I do care, deeply, about what is actually important and valuable and true in this world. I'm still in the process of filtering out everything that is unimportant and valueless and false, and that is a difficult thing to do. It is a storm to pass through that may look gloomy now, but I'll be smiling when the sun comes out.