So here I am, punching out words on the keyboard and watching a bit of Stephen Chow on the tube. I'm switching back and forth between tabs on Firefox, seeing as there's a list of notable 2005 deaths on MSNBC that's worth reading. In a few minutes, I'll probably resume my brainstorming for Vin Simbulan's draconic anthology and the Fully Booked writing contest (both due next month, which is kind of unfair, really). By 7:00 pm tonight, I'll be in a restaurant somewhere, sitting among relatives and toasting the new year with non-alcoholic drinks.
All in all, it's a normal New Years' Eve afternoon today.
There's nothing as gratifying as lazing around the computer on a Saturday afternoon, I think. If at anytime I stop feeling like writing, I can always turn off the Internet connection and play a nice game of Wesnoth.
No, I'd rather not look back on the year 2005. The anticipation of 2006 is enough as it is, and I try to think of myself as the kind of person who looks forward rather than back. Sure, we've written quite a few works of art. Sure, we've looked at our selves, our souls, and our surroundings. Sure, we've created new endeavors, traveled to fantastic places, and tasted new experiences. But that's all gone now. That's long gone. All that we have left to bring into the future are those lessons we have seen fit to teach ourselves.
That's probably what New Years' Resolutions are for, I think. Every year is a benchmark, a method by which we can ask ourselves what has changed. How have we improved or degraded? Has it been for the better, or for the worse? Have our perceptions shifted somewhat? And most importantly, why?
Different people will tell you different things, depending on just who they are. Some people will actively seek change, while others will be content to let things stand the way they are. It's kind of like conservativism and liberalism -- only without the politics, the activism, and the general name-calling. Either you change or you don't. At the end of the year, it's only the assessment that's really important. Wrap up the bills and close up the books, boys -- it's time for the IRS to step in and do their count.
Back at the beginning of 2005, I remember reading somewhere that this was a specific Year of the Rooster (according to the handy Chinese zodiac); that 2005 was supposed to be a year of upheaval. 2005 was supposed to be a year that tested the denizens of the world for their ability to handle oncoming change. Now, I'm hardly the superstitious or astrological sort, but I'll leave you to decide whether or not that little prophetic announcement was accurate enough for you.
Change, yes. Quite obvious, really. Every year brings change.
But momentous change? You figure out whether or not that's accurate in your case. It's your life, after all. I'm the last person you want to say how much you've grown or shrunk in the last year.
You're your own IRS, in that sense. You should be your own IRS. And for you, it's time to go a-counting.
So... there go my chicken scratches for today. As for me, well: I've slept till noon. I've dragged the computer over to the little corner shop for a wee bit of maintenance. I've had lunch. I've watched some Asian kung-fu action on the small screen. I've opened up my last Christmas gift (Terry Pratchett's Going Postal, which beats the pants off anything else I've received this season). I've opened up Blogger and punched in my last message for the bottomless pit that was 2005, and I'm content.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I might just be able to squeeze off a short Wesnoth game before I leave for my little New Years' Eve gathering.
I wish you all a Happy Holidays, ladies and gentlemen, and a mighty good 2006 besides.