second post, same as the, er, most?

My quest for simplicity began in 199... ahem. at College my senior year.

Imagine this: the internet was still in its infancy. Pagers were all the rage (heck, even i had one!). CD's were still used. it was the best of times, it was... well, you get the picture.
i had rematriculated into the Sig-Ep dorm into what was, i can only assume, a janitors closet.
i had the only single in the dorm (next to the RA, of course) and it was perfectly simple. absolutely by accident i had stumbled across a watershed moment for my life!
My room was tiny! i could open the door and either fall into my bed or, from the doorway, select the clothes i was going to wear.
no TV. no Cellular phone. no super nintendo. no nothin'.

granted, i lived on campus. which meant that:
. my computers were provided for in labs
. art supplies stored in someone else's building
. it was college, so i didn't need books
. no need for a car
. there was The Union: so all my food was prepared for me... which, come to think of it... uh, oops... that's another post...

moral? ok, ok... sheesh, give me a break, second post in over a year and you are rushing me already!?

well, i had an incredible amount of peaceful, stress-free days with intense community interaction that whole year. so, here i am some fi...cough-cough.... years later wishing i could return to the simplicity of that time.
yeah, yeah, i know that a ton of that simplicity came from being in college in the first place, but darn-it, i like to think that minimal dorm room had something to do with my ease of living, too.
either way, the experience left me wanting more! of... less... er...
More Minimalism. (is that even possible?) more... simplicity. ah, there it is, yes! More Simplicity!
a quest that i have been on for the better part of my adult life. (which is saying something since i am secretly a middle school girl from Iowa. man i love this cyber-thingy!! :P)

so this is what terribly-witty has come to? (he says, disenchanted)

well... no, not entirely. i mean, when have i ever done anything completely? i am, after all, a product of the 80's. and if that great decade and a half ever taught us anything it is that the non-sequitor life is the most glamorous.
and i am all about glamor.

shhhh... we're being simple.

got online again tonight. read a few blogs and blinked over to a few
other blogs (OK, two blogs total, but that sounds grossly understated) about living simply. i was struck by two things immediately.
first: why are there so many links and clickable text and rerouting to fourteen other posts in a blog about simplicity?
should'nt the blog itself be, oh, i don't know; simple?
second: all of these blogs are touting their own e-books and re-l books about simple living.
again; simple. downgrade. reduce. clearing out clutter... if i clicked on every link, took all their advice and purchased every book they hock at me, i would lose weeks of my life, live like a hobo and have a bookshelf FULL of books.
to digress for clarification: simple living or minimalistic living is almost exactly what it sounds like. doing more with less. blogs can be anywhere from creating margin through less television watching and making better life choices to "buy organic" propoganda and anarchistic rejection of socio-economic trends.
i think making a truly simple blog is the answer.
and, given my, ah... minimalistic posting, i feel the best suited to this calling.

less links.
more thinks.

how about that for a minimalistic blog tag-line?

300/d. day 7

"Not even a SCUFF!" Henry straightened to his full height, which, when he wasn't slouching from his neurotic disposition, was actually a full twenty inches taller than Reggie.
"Well, I mean, it's not as bad as Vickie's..." Reggie pleaded as Henry walked deliberately to the doorway of the bathroom. Reggie, not sure how to read his tenant's mood, followed cautiously while rebutting. "You should see her--" Reggie was cut short by Henry's stern look. He followed the slender, sickly white forearm with his eyes and then past the small slightly redish fingers off to the ultimate destination he was gesturing toward: the tiny hairline crack where the ceiling met the wall over the mirror.
"Whu--" Reggie started laughing in a superior chuckle, shaking more dust off the thousand curly black hairs protruding from the collar of his mottled white tank top. "Why, Henry, There's nothing there!"
Henry's eyes flickered with an intensity, that Reggie couldn't quite place, for a moment at something just behind Reggie's left ear. A second later Henry swept into the bathroom with a theatrical aire. "THIS IS NOTHING?!" The emaciated, pinkish finger hovered inches below the crack.
"Well, I mean... look, Henry," The Superintendent dropped his tone as if he were inviting Henry into the greatest confidence. "Cracks like that show up all the time. I mean, you probably have some in every roo--" Before he could stop himself, Reggie knew he had blown it. There was no chance of recovery now. Of what, he wasn't exactly sure, but returning to "okay" was not something he could do at this point. Henry looked livid. His breathing was starting to quicken and he was doing something very odd with his pink, chapped fingers. Something like a practiced dance, only more forced and slightly jerky.
Regginald F. Gallo was employed by the Hawker, Scott and Dunn real estate company. More specifically, he was employed by Tito, his cousin, who worked in some capacity for Hawker, Scott and Dunn. Reggie was roughly 5'6" and nearly 250 pounds. The pathetic amount of hair lying placidly over his large round head was more than made up for by the veritable carpet of black tendrils covering, presumably, the rest of his spherical viscerae. R. F. Gallo was not the following: a ladies man, a neat freak or, and most importantly at this point in the story, a quick study of personality.