Since my three year Durhamversary is only a month away, I thought I’d take this chance to reflect on my time here.
First of all, I am genuinely surprised to have survived. Through my adolescence, I felt a deep belief that my stupid ways would escort me to an equally stupid end, and not without good reason. For instance, I may be the only person in human history to have suffered an MRI-requiring injury while sleeping, alone and completely immobile, on a sofa. My proclivity for both pursuing and attracting the absurd has resulted in a number of these gruesome head-on collisions; still, I stumble from the wreckage miraculously unscathed. My survival an unexpected, though joyful given, I below break down my life into arbitrary categories, and comment on the extent and direction of their evolution over the past 36 months.

Physically: Outwardly I have not changed much; I am the same height and weight. The main differences are that I now have to shave every three days rather than every seven, and I have just a tad more grip for anyone wishing to heft me up by my love handles.

On the plate: I can no longer digest milk, and have quit eating red meat out of fear. Sweet foods now make me feel sick. These new limitations, aside from promising a life-extension possibly measured in weeks, also bestow a false but flattering appearance of maturity to my SuperTarget cart. While waiting in line after shopping, I like to look at the conveyor belt, with my responsible diet gliding by in a glorious exhibition of adult-ness. Despite my pride, not once has a cashier commented on my admirable eating habits, though for some reason contraceptive purchases do not slip their attention quite so easily.

Oral hygiene: In addition to bi-daily brushing, I now floss and use the liquid fluoride treatment, ACT.

Recreation: Here again I have little to report. I still enjoy running, playing anonymous Frisbee, reading journals, and drinking cheap beer with cheap friends. Additional free time is spent attempting to be one with the universe, and when I get bored with that, thinking rigorously about sex.

Style: The local clime has encouraged me to abandon some of my more insulating accessories, most notably the college-length mop. My ripped jeans were also retired after instigating a number of tearful fits by my then 4 year-old cousin. My daily attire includes faded jeans, a medium black, white, or grey t-shirt, and possibly an unusual hat. All clothing with writing is worn inside out, except for my booty shorts, which say “T 'n A”.


Other: This is the area of my life that has seen the most dramatic changes, but as you’ve probably noticed, my blog does not give a lot of space to serious, personal reflection. This is supposed to be a relaxing place, not a flippin’ AA meeting. Suffice it to say that I am far less anxious and depressed, and far more confident and aware. And no, I haven’t forgotten, it’s now time for:

MYSTERY VISITOR OF THE WEEK

This week our mystery visitor joins us from Vale de Amoreira, Portugal, which might translate to Lovely Valley. Google knows little about this small border town, and Wiki, too, can offer us only a quick, Portuguese glimpse into the home of our reader. From what I can gather, Vale de Amoreira is quite small, with hardly more than 250 inhabitants. It might surprise you to know that pivotal events of some kind occurred here in both 1320 and 1855. Also of note, Vale de Amoreria was perhaps annexed to Valhelhasat at the end of the 19th century1. This week, futher details surrounding our visitor’s identity will remain shrouded in the veil provided them by extreme provinciality. Visitor from Vale de Amoreira, Portugal, I salute you!

1http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vale_de_Amoreira