Feels very odd that less than forty-eight hours ago I was drunk on champagne screaming at a flashing ball dropping on my friend’s TV. Now I’m very blearily sitting at my computer trying to put together some sort of game plan for the new year.
I’m not very big on temporal markings. I hate birthdays and a lot of holidays just serve to remind me that time is passing and I can’t stop it. It’s fun.
New Year’s I generally like and I can get behind the notion of it being a brand new year and all of that. It seems like a reminder every once and awhile that we can start anew is a good thing. I guess I just think there are too many of them. Usually a repeated date only produces the urge to look back and recount what I’ve done over the year. Whether it’s the Fourth of July or Easter or Daylight Savings Time or anything, my brain automatically begins recounting what I was doing the last time Arbor Day rolled around and wondering if I’ve accomplished enough during the intervening year.
But New Year’s causes less of that and more of the whole “looking forward to a new beginning” sort of thing. My only complaint is that we can really do this at any point we choose. Every day is a new day. Every hour is a new hour. Every minute is a new minute. I mean, if the earth didn’t revolve on a tilted axis then there would be no seasonal changes and the whole concept of celebrating the survival of winter would be meaningless.
A new year can start at any moment.
Though I guess if the Earth didn’t rotate (revolve?) on a tilted axis then the equator would be a scorched and uninhabitable band around the center of the globe…but it would also be warmer up north. I think.
I’m straying off topic.
Happy New Year.
I’ve resolved to get through the first draft of Book Three in a timely fashion in spite of my fears.
And to go bowling more often.