Year end or just time for a new calendar?
Jan. 1st, 2006 11:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lenora_roseYesterday, Colin and I had dinner, and a fair amount of after-dinner pleasantry at a pot luck with his Best Man and various other friends, actually at the house of the drummer from the Dust Rhinos. I hadn't realised anyone Colin knew was associated with them, but I shoudl have, as they were the band at his friend Chris's wedding, where I first met his now Best Man, and various other old friends of his.
We were supposed to go to Hreodbeorht and Faerisa's place afterward for the actual New Year's, since the Baron and Baroness throw the best New Year's party in town, and we really haven't seen the folk from the Barony often enough lately. But we wimped out on being social, partway through the drive, conveniently close to home. But we should really start coming out to folkmoots. Not least because we have to pay for Twelfth Night, still. I should have been spending all those hours watching Veronica Mars sewing on the trim that needs to go on my latest dark ages tunic. Darn. Too late now.
No New Year's Resolutions made here (aside from the silly computer-generated one the other day). Part of it is that this doesn't seem to me like the real change of year. Change of season, yes, between the whole Christmas/Solstice push to celebrate and drive out the dark part of the year, and the real winter.
{Digression} C.S. Lewis's "always winter and never Christmas" thing in the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe irks me sometimes, just because the seasons go in the other order. Christmas first, before the much greater bulk of winter-tide, which runs from January to the end of March, sometimes with significant huge codas in April. {/digression}
But it's not where my years begin and end. In school, of course, the New Year was the start of September. This was only encouraged by the Gimli Event beign on the Labour Day weekend.
Since I graduated, it crept away from September, and settled itself into a point that seemed natural. Specifically, October. The worst year I ever had (Possibly the second worst after grade Seven, but more recent and thus much clearer in memory) ran Mid-October to mid-October, and the New Year started with three major lifts - getting a job, getting a new boyfriend with whom things were not already messed up, and going to World Fantasy in Minneapolis.
And October seems to be where I made certain resolutions recently. Do I really need more resolutions above and beyond those?
Anyway, it's time to get to writing prose fiction.
We were supposed to go to Hreodbeorht and Faerisa's place afterward for the actual New Year's, since the Baron and Baroness throw the best New Year's party in town, and we really haven't seen the folk from the Barony often enough lately. But we wimped out on being social, partway through the drive, conveniently close to home. But we should really start coming out to folkmoots. Not least because we have to pay for Twelfth Night, still. I should have been spending all those hours watching Veronica Mars sewing on the trim that needs to go on my latest dark ages tunic. Darn. Too late now.
No New Year's Resolutions made here (aside from the silly computer-generated one the other day). Part of it is that this doesn't seem to me like the real change of year. Change of season, yes, between the whole Christmas/Solstice push to celebrate and drive out the dark part of the year, and the real winter.
{Digression} C.S. Lewis's "always winter and never Christmas" thing in the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe irks me sometimes, just because the seasons go in the other order. Christmas first, before the much greater bulk of winter-tide, which runs from January to the end of March, sometimes with significant huge codas in April. {/digression}
But it's not where my years begin and end. In school, of course, the New Year was the start of September. This was only encouraged by the Gimli Event beign on the Labour Day weekend.
Since I graduated, it crept away from September, and settled itself into a point that seemed natural. Specifically, October. The worst year I ever had (Possibly the second worst after grade Seven, but more recent and thus much clearer in memory) ran Mid-October to mid-October, and the New Year started with three major lifts - getting a job, getting a new boyfriend with whom things were not already messed up, and going to World Fantasy in Minneapolis.
And October seems to be where I made certain resolutions recently. Do I really need more resolutions above and beyond those?
Anyway, it's time to get to writing prose fiction.
