I’m a loud advocate for simplicity . . . because I’m too often unsimple. Which is not the same as complicated.
Unsimple is when I shoot off in too many directions at once. Complicated is what happens after I’ve unloaded my unsimpleness into the world . . . and I have to live up to my (too) many obligations.
Complicated is inviting two girls to the prom and they both accept.
Unsimple is the impulse to do two things at once without considering the consequences. Like when first asking not one girl but two . . .
Things get complicated when I come from an unsimple place.
An easy gauge of unsimple living is how late I’m running. Most of the time I’m on time. When I start to run late it’s because I’m trying to cram in too much . . .
Unsimplicity builds on itself. I start to feel out of whack and I overcompensate by attempting more in a shorter time.
The cure is to stop. Re-assess. Bring it down to the one most important thing . . .
I’m feeling it now. Unsimple. It’s a frustrating and dispiriting place. It’s unfun. Uninspiring. And unnecessary.
Unsimple can’t be cured by anyone else but me.