What logical explanation could there be for me to finally see a need to dust off the old blogging hat and once again grace the interwebs with my words! Nothing.

Not nothing in the sense that there is an emptiness or boredom or realization that I have a blog and nothing with which to fill it, but nothing is something to celebrate, I think. Too much something, these days and not enough nothing.

Okay. I’ll take a step back. Recently, Stephen has adopted the most admirable and wonderful talent of pushing himself to read at least the entire front section of the New York Times (Do I need more reasons to adore this kid?). Something that few attempt and even less complete at the age of 21. One of his favorite sections is the OpEds and I cannot blame him. Wit and honesty and sometimes humor is something that can get lost in 24 pages of daily news roundups and it’s a refreshing and easy to read informative section. Don’t get me wrong, I love Salon.com, which is all Opinion, all the time, but seldom do I venture over to the Times for a healthy dose of New York spunk. And with the “death” of print journalism, I figure I should support it while I can.

Today I stumbled across an editorial section called Happy Days: The Joy of Less. Read it, once you get the moment.

Iyer is an American Journalist currently living the life of the moment in Kyoto. He isn’t addicted to his iPhone, or nervous about a car payment or mortgage, quite simply because these things do not exist to him. He is not a millionaire yearning to be a billionaire or a 20-something nervous about what their retirement fund is going to be made out of. He is living for today, not the future. And like many, he’s lost a lot of his savings in the past year or so, but he’s okay, he’s living and he’s enjoying. I cannot say that for myself and I haven’t even lost that much.

I found myself envious of his lifestyle and then found myself fantasizing of the idea of not having to pay bills because I didn’t have any and what my life would be like were that the case. To be able to completely drop out and join the ranks of the elite; Those wealthy in mind, body and soul, not material things.

When I was in Argentina I remember being surprised at how happy everyone was. So much that we use to define our happiness (techno gadgets, nice cars, luxurious vacations) were absent from their lives, but they were happier than almost any American I had come across. They weren’t worried about the things we worry about because they didn’t have them in the first place.

Now, I’m not about to chuck my television out the window and drown my cell phone in the Ohio River, but maybe I should. Instead, for now, I am going to pay attention to what today is telling me and drown out the incessant nagging of tomorrow and the day after. Life is far to short to boggle our brains with things that may not last through the end of the week. So, I’ll sit on my porch, read a book, listen to a rainstorm and love the life of today and the people I am lucky enough to share it with and slowly, over time, become one of the elite.

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