May it be a damn sight better than the last one

"Here's to the new year," said Col. Potter. "May it be a damn sight better than the last one."

I have two resolutions for 2006. The first, the trivial one, is to enter the New Yorker's caption contest as often as is practical. Each week, they print a cartoon without a caption, and invite submissions; several weeks later, they print the winner. It's a constrained creative outlet that fits my mind well, and it will put me in the habit of using my brain in a certain way, as doing the crossword every Sunday makes other people use their brains in a certain way. I'll share my captions with you, dear readers, even if the New Yorker never prints a one.

The second resolution is more complicated, but it boils down to the same excellent advice Kira offered me in August: don't be dumb. I didn't really make many mistakes, per se, in 2005—I still would take most of the same actions I took, if I had it to do over again. No regrets. But I was frequently dumb, in my responses and assumptions and interpretations, and as a result 2005 was a crushing year. Let us all enjoy my new motto, and not be dumb. (Can I get a hallelujah?)

The highs of 2005 were so so high and lovely, as sinsofthedove and I kept pointing out this weekend, but the lows were abysmal—for me, and for so many of my friends, and for the whole wide world. I leave 2005 with nuggets of gold in my pocket: Nags Head, sneaky kisses before dawn, my first recorded parodies, fires in my own fireplace, the cutest cat in the world asleep on my chest. As for the sand—I open my fingers.

10,000

I just imported my 10,000th song into iTunes. It was Hair Pie: Bake One by Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, from the fabulous Zappa-produced Trout Mask Replica. One might have hoped it would be five tracks on, Neon Meate Dream of a Octafish, but one cannot have everything.

The end of the year as I knew it

When the new year began, I was at Swarthmore, holding hands with my sweetie and a friendly stranger, in a huge hall lit with lights and hung with greens, surrounded by a couple hundred beautifully garbed people, all of us swaying and singing Auld Lang Syne in the traditional way (with sudden charging at the fast bit). Every year, when this happens, I see faces from the dying year in the ring around the room, and I'm overwhelmed with memories; this year was no different, and I had to wipe my eyes clear. And then we ate, choosing handsful of delicacies from three bowed trestle tables—the clear winner being the baklava made by crystalpyramid and eclectic_boy. And then I slipped outside to the bell tower, to silently stand in the cold and listen (for the first time ever) to dear friends singing Schickele's Dona Nobis Pacem, and singing it beautifully. And then there were three more hours of dancing, to match the three hours of dancing that had come before. And the world smiled up at me.

Hats off to flammifera, she of the sexy black gloves, for a fine Scottish ball. I danced with adfamiliares (plus two waltzes), crystalpyramid, carpenter, rose_garden, and sinsofthedove—twice with her, and since the second was the last dance we closed the night with a highly romantic 4AM stagger across the floor, in 3/4 time. (That waltz would not end! It was 4AM!) My only complaint was the strange lack of pipes during Reel of the Royal Scots, but we were too tired to care by then; the music was altogether rockin'.

I was particularly tired, because I'd stayed up until 4AM the night before, talking to crystalpyramid and missing my bus to ajacs's house. I ended up crashing on a futon in Greylock 301, and really didn't sleep much at all. This was eminently dumb, but therapeutic for both me and crystalpyramid, so it can be forgiven. (Particularly since it was my Last Dumb Thing Ever. See shiny new motto, two posts back.) It did mean I was a weepy waste the next afternoon, my skull packed full of gently rustling moths instead of thoughts, and I spent some time sulking alone in the hidden crannies of Greylock. Ninety minutes of nap cleared that up (somewhat), and some hushed conferences at the ball smoothed over the misunderstandings that resulted from my lack of sleep. (Okay, that was my LDTE.)

At the recovery party the next day, I was the pebble that got the musician-avalanche started—I asked stowaway_geek if he wanted to play, and we were joined shortly by sylvansafekeepe, and before I knew it I was surrounded by fiddles. We sounded good (I am told), but I began to get headachy and lose the key, so I ducked out before the end. I did initiate a tune, picking out the only reel I can play (Screech Owl Reel); first time for that, hey. Apart from that, there were backrubs and footrubs, and Guillotine! with irilyth and sinsofthedove and adfamiliares, and entertaining little Laura mightily by letting her shake my shaky egg along with the band. Adorable moppet, she is.

We drove sinsofthedove back to Greylock, and I finally got her to sit still long enough in the back of the car to accept Mhearprpyy Cbhirritshmdaasy presents. Then there was gaming, and wandering about, and Renato's pizza, at which point adfamiliares and I realized we were tired and sick and it was time to go. So we did, and here we are.

There were several nice surprises during the trip—Friday night's sleepless talk, various compliments about my Hogmanay outfit, the surprise appearance of Pinewoods-Ellen and -Karen. (I sat Ellen next to sinsofthedove and took their picture, so I'd have a record of the meeting of the two hot goth redheaded teenagers in my life, though Fin hadn't been a teenager for five whole days at that point. They thought I was mad, but I have pictures now, so nyah.) Among the nicest of the surprises was a sudden spate of real conversations with rose_garden, who I knew only slightly before. I have therefore forgiven her her cruel comments about my fabulous brocade Chucks, which were otherwise very well received. (And I met her mom, who did not recognize me without stuffed animals around my head.)

2006 has started off very well—vividly so, since I went from half-asleep aching and unhappiness on the 31st to a whole series of fortunate events on the 1st. I am still sick, and very tired, but my list of complaints is a short one. I am cautiously optimistic. Also, I have some very wonderful friends. Happy New Year, everyone.