Anniversary

Today is a very special day: the one year, two month, five day, and some change anniversary of the last time I wrote a blog post. I believe in some cultures this joyous occassion is referred to as the "Cadmium" anniversary, because it falls between the silver and gold ones. [Note to periodic table nerds - you know who you are - (forgive the punctuation faux-paus preceding and following this sentence): no need to fact-check this one. I looked it up on Wikipedia. Of course there were any number (that is, twentyish) of elements between the two, and so my choice was largely arbitrary. Nonetheless, you must admit that you found it funny.]

On this special day I propose to do one of two things. The first is to summarize what I really feel was the net result of my time in Italy by describing what I consider to be the most important life lessons learned there. The second is to make numerous jokes which will amuse me, which will almost certainly amuse Jamal, and which, when read by normal human beings, will probably provoke reactions ranging from scoffs to snores to uncomprehending stares. The decision has been made: I shall (actually, as you may have noticed, I have already started to) pursue the latter plan.

In all honesty, I did mean to write some variety of reflective, intelligtent, and sensitive post summarizing my time in Italy. As evidence for this, I tell you that while poking around my blog for nostalgia's sake, I found two draft posts, or rather two titles for draft posts with no actual posts in need of titles. The first was called "hell no, spaghetti-o's." I hardly remember now, but I assume that I intended to inveigh against faux Italian food, even though everyone knows ahead of time that Chef Boyardee makes no pretense (pretence if you're British) to authenticity. The second was entitled "Insomma," an Italian word that one could translate as "in summation" if taking the ocular route, as "in a word" if taking the dictionary root [etymology pun!], or as "eh, you know" if taking the colloquial and connotative one. I believe I meant some combination of all three, [or both, if the first two are too difficult to distinguish from one another] deftly expressing: 1) That my experience was over and that I wanted to try to draw some conclusions, and 2) that I didn't really want to do the conclusion-drawing part, for numerous philosophical and lazyosophical reasons about which I am too lazy to elaborate at this moment, as I will be at any and all future moments.

If this revelation portends anything for the future, it is that I shall (hopefully) continue to have dynamic and exhilarating adventures while recounting them in a way that (hopefully) makes them entertaining, while simultaneously stripping them of any sense of significance, leaving you, dear reader, with a figurative peeled avocado of a story. My writing is the green, buttery, delicious flesh, which you will consume in rapture. The reason why is (embedded in?) the seed, which is 1)impenetrable, and 2) nearly impossible to cultivate in any useful fashion, even though it is packed with DNA and just asking to be planted. The figurative avocado came pre-peeled because I could not think of any symbolism for the peel. Anyone who suggests a good one will be forbidden from commenting/trouncing me in the future.

Finally, I warn you not to take the metaphor too far, because, carried to its logical and biological conclusions (as all premises and fruits, respectively, must be!), my story/avocado turns to poop.