Trash. Woody Allen sees it as bad TV. Garbologists see it as an archeological treasure trove of evidence about human culture and behavior. Freegans see it as a livelihood. Coskata and General Motors see it as a potential source of energy. The people of Naples see it as a post-apocalyptic nightmare. Most of the rest of us, however, see trash as something between a necessary evil and a minor nuisance.

How do I see trash? This week, as I carried my trash with me everywhere, I saw it as an unusually introspective accessory: a shoulder-slung souvenir of my daily habits of consumption.

I'm Jordan. This is Trash Day. Let me introduce myself:

"My week in trash", mixed media, 2008

1 bag of chips

1 plastic deli sandwich wrapper

2 plastic bread bags

2 bread bag twisty ties

1 pair of wooden chopsticks

5 fruit sticker labels

1 large paper table napkin

1 paper towel

1 plastic cereal bag

1 foil muffin wrapper

1 bottle cap

2 toothpicks topped with plastic fuzz

1 plastic soup spoon

7 silica gel preservative/dryness packets

1 piece of plastic packaging from cat comb

Still feel like you don't know me yet? Let's get a little cozier:

Recyclable containers

2 glass beer/cerveza bottles (one with a lime)

6 crushed beer cans

1 crushed can of Sparks

1 plastic cup

1 plastic hummus container

1 plastic cheese container

All right, I'm ready to bare it all:

Recyclable Paper

1 flattened cereal box

1 piece of cardboard packaging from cat comb

1 teabag package (and sage words from end of string)

4 small unused paper napkins

1 cardboard coaster

1 cardboard catnip tag

2 cardboard tags from a gift

1 paper doily

1 cardboard toilet paper tube

Too many receipts to count

And the very last skeletons left in my closet:

Food Waste

3 apple cores

2 banana peels

1 tea bag

On this Trash Day blog, I'll be exploring waste streams and compost cycles, refuse piles and rubbish bins, fungibles and non-fungibles, recyclable goods and toxic scrap. My garbage roadmap will take me from the inside out, from my personal garbage to international waste processing, all the while looking for ways to turn useless waste into a useful resource.

This week, in order to better understand my own habits of consumption and waste creation, I took all of my disposables out of the trash can—or barrel, as you New Englanders say—and into my purse (regardless of what it might to do my personal and professional relationships).

A week of trash, from left to right: food waste; non-recyclable trash; paper recyclables; plastic and metal recyclables

My first challenge was coming up with a set of rules to dictate my week of voluntary hoarding. Am I allowed to flush things down the toilet? What about recycling? What if someone gives me a piece of trash that I don't really want? What ultimately becomes a part of my refuse entourage?

I'm not alone in my pursuit. I looked to some of the brave souls who have already paved the way in the rubbish retention for some guidance:

• A truly inspirational blog by frog design passes the torch (or rather, trash bag) from Trash Talk-er to Trash Talk-er in two week stints of garbage carrying. They've outlined a detailed set of rules.
• The "Self-portrait as revealed by trash" in Orion
• One man documented his year in trash
• At the 2006 Gwanju Biennale, an artist made an installation out of a lifetime of his mother's hoarded trash

After contemplating these other collections and thinking about what exactly it is I hoped to accomplish, here is what I came up with:

1. Recycling, although good, isn't free of environmental cost. I will allow myself to recycle after I'm through with this ordeal. Until then, I'll carry my recyclables with me in addition to my non-recyclables. I'll sort them according to Boston's recycling rules.
2. I pride myself on my ability to clean a plate, so I shouldn't end up with too much food waste. However, anything I produce I'll keep in a sealed bag in my kitchen (I don't yet compost). I did this for an entire year when I lived in Korea, where composting is mandatory (they feed most food waste to pigs). As rumor has it throwing food in the trash earns you a $10,000-or-so fine.
3. I believe that the choices we (and others) have made in the past affect our lives and actions in the present and the future. Therefore, packaging from items I purchased before the start of my dumpster-less life will count if it is time to "throw it away." This goes for things other people I live with have purchased, too.
4. I have to take my trash bag with me every time I leave my apartment.
5. Flushing is a-ok (for now). I've done the carry your used toilet paper with you for weeks at a time thing while backpacking, as well as the not flushing your TP while in an Asian country thing, so I feel like I've earned this.
6. You don't always have a say in what life--or life's waste stream--will throw your way. Whether I ask for it or not, if it passes through my hands on its trip to the garbage, into my bag it goes.

By 12:32 pm on my first day I didn't have any trash yet, and frankly, I was a little disappointed. The only conscious change in behavior I made was forgoing a wooden stirrer with my morning coffee at the cafe downstairs. My high school history teacher chronically stirred his coffee with a ballpoint pen, but I think I'll just surrender to the sugar sludge at the bottom of my mug.

I got my highly anticipated first piece of trash at 6:13 pm at Brookline Dog Grooming. (I adopted a cat four days before starting this experiment, and I was glad to find a pet supply store who is "going green" in 2008.) I was vigilant about packaging, but still managed to pick up some cardboard and plastic along with my cat's new comb and catnip toy, and the first of many receipts. Also, the bottle of Nature's Miracle I got to keep my apartment from smelling like a litter box had a seal on the inside of its cap.

After that my boyfriend and I went to dinner at Boston Beer Works. I brought home another receipt and the coaster that sat beneath my Victory White.

Watch out for those doilies and coasters. Drinks often come with trash even if they aren’t in bottles or cans.

Trash is like a bag of Oreos: once you open the bag, it's hard to stop. Over the next few days my trash ballooned, although to be fair, the majority of it is recyclable. My weekend trashcapades revolved around the residues of partying and consisted of mostly beer cans and a few unlucky bottles. On Saturday night I asked a friend to order me something "in a glass" and he came back with a Corona. Salud!

Keeping my trash revealed as much about my imbibing habits as it did about my consuming habits. Sorry, Mom…

I'm a little embarrassed to say that I was at the Hong Kong in Harvard Square on Sunday night, but it is in the name of garbage-anecdotes! The bartender served my first beer in a glass, but the second in a cup. Semi-distraught, I took the plastic artifact over to my friend. She was busy chatting up the bouncer, who informed us that at the Kong they recycle their cups. Hurrah! Nonetheless, into my purse the cup went.

Some other notable pieces of trash include...

• a paper doily--which fancy French cocktails cannot be served without--from Petit Robert Bistro
• wax from a dripping tapered candle that I "recycled" into another candle
• a sizable pile of silica gel freshness packets--enough to dry up an acre of marshland--that came in the makeup bag a friend gave me
• receipts upon receipts upon receipts! I've got a sizable stack, but there were a few that got lost along the way, like the book delivery receipts at the Boston Public Library
• some of friends ordered pizza and mozzarella sticks while they were at our apartment. I didn't count this as my trash, but it is interesting to note that Boston doesn't recycle pizza boxes. Why is that? Too greasy to repurpose?
• one night I kept moving the napkin my waiter put under my drink into my pocket--to my dismay he kept bringing me a new napkin with each new drink

It's hard to save everything when even your trash is telling you to throw it away

I'm tempted to continue this experiment for another week. Why? As I cataloged and photographed my week of trash, I sorted it into food-related and non-food-related piles. The piles were as mismatched as a team of eight-year-olds taking on the Celtics. This has been a week full of eating out, which, although there is the odd paper napkin, wooden chopstick, doily, or coaster, has been crucial in keeping my waste minimal. However, just because I am not served trash with my meal doesn't mean that waste isn't being produced on my behalf. What are they throwing away back there in the kitchen, where I can't see? I feel like eating out obscures the issue of waste.

Top row: non-food-related trash; Bottom row: food-related trash

It is clear that, at least with my life style, food packaging is one of the largest sources of waste. So for next week? I am going to continue the great trash-keeping experiment, this time without so much dining in restaurants. (This means, with my limited culinary repertoire, I'll probably be fixing myself many a sandwich.)

The week after that? Perhaps I'll look at trash as a source of sustenance, entertainment, and local flavor. The next week? Maybe I'll view trash as a large scale industry. And in the future? Possibly I'll fix trash in my sights as a source of viable income.

Until then, I leave you with a fist full of trash...