Why Physical Media Still Means So Much to Me

Some objects quietly work their way into your life without you ever noticing. You don't feel it happening the day you buy them, or even the year after. Then one day you look around your room, see the shelves you've slowly filled over time, and realize they're telling a story. Not the story of the books, films, or albums sitting on them, but your own.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. About physical media. Books, CDs, vinyl, DVDs, even video games. It's strange that we've reached a point where owning these things almost feels old-fashioned. Streaming is the default now; nearly everything is available instantly, wherever you happen to be, and in a lot of ways that's genuinely amazing.

I use Spotify daily. I watch things on streaming platforms all the time, and I buy digital games whenever that's the only option available. I'm not anti-technology. But no matter how convenient digital media gets, I don't think it will ever match the feeling of walking up to a shelf and picking out something that's truly yours.

Maybe that's because, for me, physical media was never really about convenience in the first place.

It's about connection.

Ownership doesn't feel the same anymore

One thing I've noticed over the last few years is that ownership itself has quietly shifted. When I was younger, buying something meant exactly that — it was yours. You could lend it to a friend, rediscover it years down the line, or just let it sit on a shelf until the right moment came around.

There was something comforting in that.

Knowing something could stay with you for years made it feel important, like it became a piece of your own history.

These days it's different. More and more, we're paying for access rather than ownership. Streaming has replaced DVD shelves, digital storefronts have replaced game collections, and music has turned into something we scroll through endlessly instead of something we actually hold.

This shift is especially obvious with video games. More releases are going digital-only, and even when you do buy a game digitally, what you're really getting is often just a license to access it.

Sure, you paid for it.

But do you actually own it?

If a company pulls it, shuts down a server, or changes its policy, there's often not much you can do.

I get why the industry has moved this way — it's convenient, accessible, and it makes business sense. Digital media has made art reachable for more people than ever, and that's a genuinely good thing.

But at the same time, I can't shake a little sadness about what we're losing.

Because there's something special about knowing the things you love actually belong to you.

If, twenty years from now, I want to replay a game that meant something to me, I want to be able to grab it off a shelf and play it. If I want to rewatch a film that's vanished from every streaming service, I want to know I still have it.

No subscriptions.

No waiting.

No wondering if it's still around.

Just me and the thing I love.

A collection isn't just a collection

People sometimes ask why I collect things, especially now that almost anything can be found online.

Honestly, I don't think I'm collecting objects.

I'm collecting moments.

Every book reminds me of where I found it. Every album reminds me of a different version of myself. Every film carries its own little story.

Sometimes I remember the place where I bought something more vividly than the thing itself.

That's probably why I love second-hand shops so much.

There's something genuinely exciting about walking into a place with no idea what you'll find. Unlike online shopping, where you search for something specific and get an instant result, second-hand stores force you to actually explore.

You have to look.

You have to dig.

You have to let something surprise you.

And when you do find something worth having, it means so much more.

My little collection

Out of everything I collect, books are by far the biggest part of it.

I own well over 100 at this point, and I honestly don't think I'll ever stop buying them. There's something about books that feels completely timeless. A bookshelf grows alongside you, slowly. The books you own now probably look nothing like the ones you'd have picked years ago, and that's exactly what makes it interesting.

They reflect who you were at different points in your life.

Alongside books, I also collect CDs and vinyl.

Music has always mattered a lot to me, and I love owning an album physically — looking at the artwork, reading the booklet, seeing the effort that went into the whole presentation around it.

Streaming is great for discovering new artists, but sitting down with a physical album and giving it your full attention is a different experience entirely.

It feels more intentional.

More personal.

More like an experience, rather than background noise.

Recently I've also started collecting films.

It's still small compared to my books or music, but I'm enjoying building it up slowly. Part of the fun is hunting down movies I love or stumbling onto something unexpected while browsing shelves.

Though I'll admit something that probably doesn't make much sense.

I'm not really into collecting Blu-rays.

I know they're objectively better — higher quality, newer tech, and I completely understand why people prefer them.

But for whatever reason, they just don't hit the same for me.

DVDs feel more nostalgic.

Maybe it's because that's what I grew up with.

Maybe it's just how they look.

Maybe it's simply not something I can explain.

Sometimes collecting isn't about what makes the most logical sense.

It's about what feels right.

And I feel exactly the same way about video games.

Owning them physically is such a specific kind of special. Opening the case, looking at the cover art, setting it next to the rest of your games once you've finished it — all those small details become part of the experience.

A game isn't just the hours you spend playing it.

It's the memory of buying it.

The excitement of opening it for the first time.

The feeling of seeing it on your shelf years later.

That's something I really hope never disappears.

A bookstore I wasn't expecting to find

One of my favorite recent discoveries happened completely by accident.

I was working one day and stepped out for a walk during a break. While wandering around, I noticed a bookstore I'd somehow never spotted before.

I went in out of pure curiosity.

I wasn't expecting much.

Instead, I found one of those places that instantly makes you want to stay for hours.

It was a charity bookstore, entirely volunteer-run, and everything inside was ridiculously cheap.

Books.

Movies.

CDs.

Almost everything was just one euro.

I genuinely couldn't believe it.

The whole atmosphere was exactly what I love about places like this. It wasn't just a shop — it felt like a space where forgotten things could find a new home.

I spent ages going through every shelf, picking things up, reading descriptions, finding albums and films I hadn't thought about in years.

Of course, I couldn't leave empty-handed.

I walked out with several new additions to my collection, and it turned into one of those small experiences that just sticks with you.

Because sometimes the best finds are the ones you weren't even looking for.

Finding Mulholland Drive

A few days later, something else happened that made me really happy.

I was browsing a second-hand shop when a familiar cover caught my eye.

Mulholland Drive.

I grabbed it immediately.

For anyone who doesn't know, Mulholland Drive is one of my all-time favorite films.

I've watched it more times than I can count, and somehow every viewing feels different.

That's what makes it so special.

Some films give you everything right away. You watch them once, get what they're trying to say, and move on.

Mulholland Drive isn't like that.

It stays with you.

Every rewatch, I notice something new — a detail I'd missed, a different reading of a scene, a new way of understanding what's happening.

It's a film that changes depending on who's watching it, and even on where you are in your own life when you watch it.

Finding a physical copy felt strangely meaningful.

It wasn't just another DVD.

It was a reminder of a film that's given me so many different experiences over the years.

Adding Sex and the City to the collection

Another find that made me especially happy was coming across several seasons of Sex and the City on DVD.

It's one of my favorite shows, and I'd always wanted to own it physically.

Finding whole seasons sitting there was such a great surprise.

My goal now is to slowly complete the set and, hopefully, have the entire series together one day.

And yes, I have to say it...

My favorite character is Miranda.

There's something about her personality, her honesty, and the way she moves through life that's always made her stand out to me.

Everyone has their favorite character on that show, but Miranda has always been mine.

Why I'll probably never stop collecting

The older I get, the more I realize collecting isn't really about owning a lot of stuff.

It's about surrounding yourself with the art that shaped you.

The books that changed how you think.

The albums that got you through certain moments.

The films you never get tired of watching.

The games that gave you memories you still think about years later.

A collection slowly turns into a reflection of who you are.

When someone looks at your shelves, they're not just seeing objects.

They're seeing pieces of your personality.

Pieces of your history.

Pieces of your life.

And maybe that's why physical media will always matter to me.

Not because it's perfect.

Not because digital media is bad.

But because there's something deeply human about holding on to the things that mean something to you.

In a world that moves faster and faster, where everything is built to be temporary, having something that actually stays feels genuinely special.

Your favorite book won't vanish because a subscription ran out.

Your favorite album won't disappear because a contract changed.

Your favorite film won't suddenly become unavailable.

It'll just wait for you.

And maybe that's the most beautiful thing about physical media.

It waits.

I'd love to know...

Do any of you collect anything?

Books?

Movies?

CDs?

Vinyl?

Video games?

Or maybe something completely different?

And if you don't collect anything right now, is there something you'd love to start one day?

I'd genuinely love to hear about it.

Because I think the things we choose to hold on to say a lot about who we are.