The nancyboy has landed

Transplanting from the Land of Competition to the People's Republic of Davis has taken some adjusting, but treading barefoot on unswept tiles upon awaking and blackening my soles with fragments of her sloth upon exiting the shower is no longer my cross to bear. With zeal and vigor I fled from the self-imposed insanity, heaving personal artifacts into the back of my hatchback as if they were coal stoking the flame of a locomotive all the while cursing my cheapness and naïveté. Since relocating, my quality of life has improved. I feel at ease and welcome in my new surroundings despite the compulsion to walk on eggshells around the outgoing housemate. This self-reported level of comfort, is being based on the lack of the urge to shove off as day breaks through my westwardly window to seek out more suitable environs that drove me daily during my stay on Adeline Place. I have complaints with Lafayette, but they do not involve irritating daily recurrences. The future looks bright, fiat lux.

Yet, I find myself depressed by the nagging emptiness of quiet that consumes me. Sadly, I feel rudderless without the compulsive hatred at least that is the excuse I would like to offer for why I have not been to the gym in two weeks now. Speaking of motivations, humans are said to be tortured with the knowledge of their own mortality, a notion I thumbed my nose at with great hubris because I never felt an overwhelming fear of "death" _{(other than that time an acquaintance of my cousin's threatened to kill me with a BB gun)} feeling I had nothing to lose, but recently I have come to terms with the realization that I fear dying. My interest in "health", "fitness", and "nutrition", which all serve as life-extending activities that will purportedly stave off the terrorizing fact that I approach biological equality with every passing day. This realization was made abundantly clear by the fact that I've recently begun consuming coffee and supplementing creatine solely based on a growing number of research publications espousing their health benefits. Clearly, I am chasing my own tail chugging the concrete coffee and creatine for supposed life-extending instants or donating dollars and cents into the donation basket for precious moments away from St. Peter; we pick our poison and pay to play.

All this being said, I feel incredibly more consumed with becoming clearly what I cannot be. When you think of me what do you see, is it all my faults and insecurities? The cracked foundation slab or the reclusive quack in a tinfoil hat? (Recant, recant, you're better than that.) Not sure if I'm crazy or just that self loathing as I've allowed my peculiarities and curiosities to run unfettered. I've been a jaded absolutist for quite some time now, but now I feel I am slipping into quackery taking arbitrary stances against inanimate objects. Plastic has become my new adversary. Opting instead to purchase everything in unpolished stainless steel, glass, ceramic, or cast iron instead and above all else avoiding widgets made in China. I don't know what purpose this endeavor serves other than to empty my bank account and a fleeting moment of solace.
An equally wasteful expenditure, is my quest to buy all consumables from the Davis Farmer's market. Fresh caught wild salmon (belly and trim cuts), grass-fed beef, free range eggs, blueberries, broccoli, spinach, onions, garlic, peppers, pistachios, walnuts, first press olive oil, figs, apples, heirloom tomatoes, and whatever other seasonal treat that catches my fancy. An organic locavore whore buying superlatives and adjectives to make myself feel better.

"We make a useful functional world for ourselves. We live in a world of constant change, without change there is no perception." - Dr. Chris Tromborg