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2 Years Out

I was planning on doing a commemorative post for the 2-year anniversary of my move to Portland. I thought it was something meaningful, that I should be discussing all the ways in which I’ve changed (by which I hopefully mean grown) over the past 24 months.

But apparently it wasn’t meaningful enough for me to remember to write something on the actual day. This weekend it occurred to me that the exact date, January 23rd, had passed, like, 3 days ago.

I was regretful at first, but you know what? The reason I missed it is that I was too busy to think about it. I had to cram in a long work day, a paper to write, and lunch with Lisa at that awesome vegetarian buffet run by the cult (Pardon my blasphemy, Supreme Master.) This would seem to indicate that I’m too busy living my life to bother contemplating it, which is by far the most significant change I think I have made since my arrival here. Introspection’s awesome and everything, but my eyes are all scratched to hell from brushing up against my hairy navel for so long.   So perhaps the anniversary is more meaningful when neglected.  Just pretend I didn’t write anything at all on the subject.


3 responses »

  1. boonreincarnated

    Oh! And I forgot to mention: Happy belated 2-year engagement anniversary, Emily! I think it’s kind of cool that I sowed a seed of major life-change the same week that one of yours began to sprout.

    In other news, sickeningly new-agey analogies are totally my boyfriend.

  2. It’s okay. I still love you. And thanks! I actually completely forgot that anniversary was coming up/here/going by. Right now I am engaged in heated battle with my spouse over who will get the car tonight. He wants to take it to GRESHAM. And he says HEY, SHOULDN’T YOU BE HOME STUDYING!? Ah, marriage.

  3. Then he told me to just get out of the bedroom and leave him alone so that he could sleep. And I was like, FINE. WUT EVA. Then I stormed out and closed the door. After a couple of minutes Beau walked back down the hall and tried to get into the bedroom. And he was like NOOOOOOOO!!! WOOF WOOF WOOF! THE PORTAL HAS CLOOOOOOOSED! AWOOOO! WOOF!

    And I thought…you know, I should just let him keep barking. Because there’s nothing like a hysterical Beauregaard at your bedroom door to remind you that you are a very bad person.




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