Simplicity

Would you be complicit to my crazy idea? Would you join me in an unimaginable adventure? It might seem like a commonsensical choice or a self-explanatory lifestyle but many people have rejected it as unpractical or unwise.

Really, I just want a simple life.

I would like to wake to birdsong, stroll to the market, have a filling breakfast of nasi lemak or vegetarian beehoon and have a chat over warm soyamilk. I dream of afternoons filled with smells of egg and butter in the oven or the steady chug of the sewing machine and the weave of cotton under my fingers. Fantasies of evenings in cafes under warm lights and between cool breezes accompanied by mouthgasm-inducing cakes haunt me.

But everyone today has dismissed such domestic dreams and yet others have also managed to perpetrate the idea that such a myth is attainable. The practical advise work and slogging to earn your keep and that the simple lifestyle can only be sustained through large amounts of inheritance or a sugar daddy. The feminists cry foul, that such domestic desires undermine their efforts at female liberation. And then there are whole cook-book, cook-show, home-making industries selling you the perfect simplistic life, hiding the complexities of said industries.

But whether I have fallen in headfirst into such manufactured lives, or I simply reject the radical feminism plaguing us, I think such a simple lifestyle is entirely attainable. We have to get out of the viciously busy cycle that we hamster run through.

I just want a simple life. For a day.