What Defines Me...

I was just on an old high-school friend's blog reading her most recent post about herself. She had taken some very nice pictures of her room, or rather, a corner of her room that is "her space". There was a reason for every single thing she depicted; every piece had emotional significance. It was beautiful... but at the same time, I am wrestling with the idea of stuff. I am torn between wanting a whole bunch of personal objects to live among, and not wanting to just have stuff define me. There seems something wrong with defining who I am by what stuff I have, but I can't quite put my finger on what.