Why is it “ringing” in the year? Is this a bell tower reference from yore? Did bells herald the change over at one time? There is a carillon at the convent near my mom’s home. You can hear it ring throughout the day. I don’t know if they’re real bells or a digital facsimile, but it’s reassuring to hear time passing because sometimes it seems as though time has less impact than we fear and not as much as we’d like.
Traditionally, today is one of resolutions. The gym has been packed for weeks with people getting a jump on the weight loss/shape up new year cliché. Thankfully most of them will fail and I will not have to edge my way around fat women strolling abreast on a track where the signs reminding everyone of the importance of single file are clearly posted. Oh, that read quite cold, didn’t it? And I typed it out loud even. Bad me. But the gym is for exercise and the Starbucks is for prattling on about the latest gossip. Perhaps if I didn’t get those looks. The ones that imply I should simply walk slower and if I was more socially adept I too could be blocking the way with a chat buddy.
But today is the first day in a new you. We are new again on the 1st of every year when possibilities are endless and the slate is clean.
At least that is the theory.
I have goals. Does that count? I have my quarterly calendar posted and ready to direct me on matters such as memoir, blogging, reviews, writing groups, short stories and exercise.
I’ve got the yoga times blocked off and I am going to give spinning a serious attempt.
I made my first column inquiry a few days ago. Pitched me to a provincial magazine for moms and I received clarification on my sci-fi piece at last. It is with the editors, which is better than on its way back to me with a rejections notice, right?
Goals. Dreams. They make sense. Resolutions bring up images of shoeless prisoners being forced to march through ankle deep snow.
I will not be making resolutions again. Ironically, this is the only resolution I have ever made that has stuck.
Last night was movies with the family and homemade pizza. We had popcorn from the air popper Santa brought and later Rob and I toasted the new year together. Our second. No, our third. We exchanged new year’s greetings as 2006 rolled over to ’07 though not on the dot.
At supper Rob related having listened to a CNN piece on the countries which had already crossed into 2009. He listened to count downs in a variety of languages and wondered what all the fuss was about. Years are an arbitrary threshold. In eons gone by our ancestors were guided by the sun and met to mark the solstices, exchange goods and bloodlines. Now we gather to eat, drink – too much – and count, although goods are probably still exchanged along with a substantial amount of DNA.
Happy New Year from the Canadian prairies. Here’s hoping you eat, drank within limits which still allowed you to count, received some goods but remembered to don protection in the event of genetic exchanges (unless of course you were looking to improve your bloodlines).