I'm thinking about simplicity today. Not in the usual way--truth be told, the whole "live simply" thing drives me a bit bananas. I've spent most of my adult life looking for excitement. Exciting things are rarely simple, and I don't buy for a second the idea that organized closets really make us all that happy. Sure, we can find things easily when they're folded and labeled (we're selling our condo right now and have unexpected showings all the time, so I'm test-driving a pared-down and organized world that would make Julie Morgenstern proud) but how much does that really matter if we don't have interesting, captivating things to do, work on, fret or dream about? I think deep down, I like things complex.
And yet in small doses, I get the simple pleasure idea. I think yesterday's Barry Manilow post was part of that. But it can't be the whole thing--I mean, Mr. Manilow probably has a complex and interesting life, he doesn't just sit by the window all day singing "Mandy" or "Two Ships that Passed in the Night," right?
Not sure what my point is here, but that's today's deep thought of eternal significance :)
Maybe someday if I start a magazine, I'll call it Real Complex. (Although now that I see it in writing, that looks like something for people recovering from their inner child wounds. Never mind...)
Are you simple or complex? Do you like it?