giving 2006 da boot

[nerdy editor]Actually, that should be “May I take a nap now?”[/nerdy editor]

Growing up, New Year’s Eve was always a family thing—a kind of small postscript to Christmas. My parents never went out and relegated my sister and me to a hapless babysitter. Instead, my maternal grandparents would come over and the six of us would hang out, enjoying the last waning hours of our Christmas decorations and candles, eating hors d’oeuvres, playing board games, watching movies (after we bought our first VCR in 1986, that is), and watching Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve. It was clean, innocuous fun, and even after I entered those years o’ torment and horror (the early years of adolescence), spending New Year’s Eve with my family was something I enjoyed doing.

Starting in 11th grade, I think, I began spending New Year’s Eve with friends. I always resisted ringing in the new year alone, even if it meant frittering away the last hours of the year in a snooze fest with one friend, doing and going nowhere in particular. When the inevitable finally occurred two or three years ago (I did have plans, but they fell apart at the last minute), I discovered: Hey, this isn’t so bad!

And really, it’s not. Given the choice, yeah, I’d rather spend the evening having fun with good friends, but if that option isn’t available, and neither is doing something huge and memorable—like ringing in the new year in Times Square (I’ve always wanted to do that), or in London (I’ve done it twice; I’d love to do it again), or in a mass celebration in downtown DC (that’s how I celebrated the millennium)—then I’d rather be alone. Going to a crowded nightclub or an elaborate party where I barely know anybody doesn’t interest me. Going to a party just because it’s expected of me, because it’s New Year’s Eve and that’s what people do on New Year’s Eve, doesn’t appeal to me at all. And given how much I’m now working, due to my heavy freelancing schedule, spending a holiday at home without any obligations or traveling or socializing sounds like the best possible scenario for me.

This weekend I mostly cast my work aside in honor of the holiday (I worked for a bit on Friday night and for a few hours on Saturday, but barely made a dent in the freelancing stack before I tossed it aside). I never got out of my pajamas. I never bathed (ah, the joy of slothdom!). I didn’t go anywhere. I watched DVDs and read. This evening I began a hotly-anticipated art project. The weekend felt gorgeous. Tonight I’ll curl up on the sofa with a warm, furry blanket (faux, of course); some Estonian liqueur; and my cats. At midnight we’ll watch the ball drop in New York City.

As for New Year’s Day—that, too, was always a family affair when I was young. It was tradition for us to go to my aunt and uncle’s house and spend the day relaxing and fressin’ with my dad’s side of the family. Where I’m from, people are supposed to eat pork and sauerkraut on New Year’s Day to ensure good luck in the year ahead, so our day was always filled with steaming, sagging plates of pork and ’kraut (unfortunately for me, I didn’t like pork and I was sickened by the sight of sauerkraut; so, no good luck for me). It was also tradition—during the years when New Year’s Day wasn’t on a Friday or Saturday—for Kristen, our cousin Becky, and me to spend a good portion of the day gnashing our teeth and moaning about having to return to school the next day after having a week off school. Much dramatic flopping on furniture and pointed sighs accompanied our day. Also, one year we listened to Prince’s new single 1999 on a continuous loop for hours, imagining where we’d be and what the world would be like on that distant day when 1999 danced over to 2000.

This year on New Year’s Day, there won’t be much need to moan and sigh about having to return to work, because it’s not like I’m returning from a week’s holiday vacation; after all, I worked three days last week. I’ll probably just feast on Christmas leftovers (my grandfather’s divine PA Dutch potato filling), complete my aforementioned art project, watch some DVDs, read, and indulge in some sweet, sweet vegging.

2006 was a decent year; may 2007 be even better! Here’s one last questionnaire for the year:

2006 Year in Review

1. What did you do in 2006 that you'd never done before?
I auditioned for a game show and went to Georgia for the first time.

2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I stopped making resolutions a few years ago. I never kept them! But I’ve been resolving for months to buy a house in 2007, no matter what it takes.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Antoinette had her first baby, Luca, in July.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
My great-aunt Mag died, but we haven’t been close in years.

5. What countries did you visit?
England

6. What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006?
A HOUSE!!! And maybe a bit of free time.

7. What date from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
29 September, because on that day I returned to London for the first time in over seven years and it felt so goddamn good!

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Surviving a ridiculously intense workload and a shocking dearth of downtime without having a complete nervous breakdown.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Failing to buy a house. Failing to begin saving for the trip to Eastern Europe I want to take within the next few years.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Just a double bout of pink eye—nothing overly major.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
My favorite thing would be the handmade skulls-and-cherries purse I bought at Smithfield Market in London. Runners up would be the mirrored sunburst candle holder I bought in Athens, GA, and the black satiny trenchcoat dress I bought at Forever 21. And my new flat-screen computer monitor, of course!

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Plath’s, because he hasn’t sprayed the furniture in months. (But secretly I think the Prozac actually deserves the accolades for that!)

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Someone whose name I can’t say!

14. Where did most of your money go?
Into quarterly tax payments (my freelancing is really nailing me to the wall, tax-wise), into my savings account, toward my London trip, toward bills, and toward Christmas presents.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Returning to London after seven years away!

16. What song will always remind you of 2006?
“Your Ex-Lover is Dead,” by Stars, because I listened to it over and over again.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
I’m in the same position, really. Still living in the same shitty apartment, still focused on buying a house, still working nonstop. The only difference is that I now have my tax situation under control (I’m paying quarterly taxes, which I didn’t do in 2005).

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Saving money and vegging.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Working!

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
I spent it with my family at my sister’s house.

21. How will you be spending New Year’s Eve?
I spent it alooooone, just like I spend most New Year’s Eves, but that’s okay with me, because, like I said above, if I can’t spend it hanging out casually with my closest friends or rocking out in Times Square/Trafalgar Square, then I’d rather be alone.

22. Did you fall in love in 2006?
No, although there was an unfortunate crush that didn’t go anywhere. (Shocker.)

23. How many one-night stands?
None.

24. What was your favorite TV program?
A tie between Lost and The Office.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
Nope. Well...wait. I now hate my neighbors more than I did at this time last year, because my hatred for them just continues to grow and grow with the passage of time.

26. What was the best book you read?
Mmmm…I guess I’ll say The Road, by Cormac McCarthy, because even though his writing style kind of bugs (he violently swings between being overly flowery and overly sparse; his punctuation is erratic), the book really stands out because it was such a stomach-churningly bleak tale—probably the bleakest book I’ve ever read. It’s one of those books that makes me feel so grateful for what I’ve got in my life. Second runner-up would have to be Graves without Crosses, by Arved Viirlaid.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Joshua Radin

28. What did you want and get?
For Christmas I got pretty much everything I asked for.

29. What did you want and not get?
A house.

30. What was your favorite film of this year?
In terms of what I saw in the cinema (and I barely saw anything): El Método. In terms of what I rented: V for Vendetta, Cube, The Eye.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 32 and spent my birthday in Athens, GA, with Annida and her husband. They got me a fab tombstone cake and took me to dinner at REM’s favorite vegetarian restaurant.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
If I had managed to buy a house, thus releasing me from the hell of my apartment.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2006?
It’s the same as it was the year before. On weekends comfort is key—sometimes I never even get out of my pajamas. The rest of the time I heavily favor vintage dresses, A-line skirts, chunky platform heels, secondhand clothes, flared pants, Aarikka necklaces, and the necklaces I make out of old ’80s earrings.

34. What kept you sane?
Dreaming about my future travels and buying a house. Friends. My cats.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
My #1 TV boyfriend John Krasinski.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
The disintegration of the wall that is supposed to separate church and state.

37. Who did you miss?
Friends I didn’t get to see.

38. Who was the best new person you met?
I didn’t meet any exciting new people!

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006:
I’m really, really lucky. (But that’s something I’ve always known on some level.)

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

A song lyric that is actually from 2006:

Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It’s the wrong kind of place
To be thinking of you
It’s the wrong time
For somebody new
It’s a small crime
And I’ve got no excuse

song heard most recently before posting: Eyes Without a Face—Paul Anka

'Appy Crimbo!

Another Christmas bites the dust. I had a great holiday with my family at my sister and her husband’s house in Frederick County. Delicious food, fabulous presents, laughing at old photos, reminiscing, spending a good two hours lolling in a hot tub, mingling with friendly neighbors...what more could I ask for?

The boy who lives next door took my little niece Olivia outside to sprinkle reindeer food on the lawn last night, and it was so adorable because she took it so seriously. (Later we also left cookie crumbs and a glass with milk residue in it on the kitchen table so she’d think Santa stopped for a bite to eat when he delivered her pile of presents.) Honestly, it was just a really wonderful Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and I will sign end this post on that positive note. (Plus I’ll mention that my office is closed tomorrow, so I’ve got another day of relaxation in front of me!!)


song heard most recently before posting: Christmas Time is Here—Ivy

Christmas 1994

Last night I finally wrapped all my Christmas presents, to the blaring soundtrack of the final disc of Doogie Howser Season 1. I’m so relieved to be done with it all (the wrapping, not my Doogie Howser marathon!)

There has only ever been one Christmas that I didn’t spent with at least part of my family—Christmas 1994, when I was studying abroad. For the holiday I went to Germany, where I spent about 10 days with two friends (Laura, a friend from home, and Dave, a friend from college) who were studying in Marburg for the year. Had this opportunity not arisen, I probably would’ve weaseled my way into spending Christmas with Annida at her parents’ house in Greece. Going home was always an option, I suppose; instead of paying for me to go to Germany, my family could’ve just paid for me to return to the States instead. But, although I missed everyone a lot, I didn’t want to go home until my time at Goldsmiths was finished. I just didn’t think it’d be good for me to interrupt my year abroad with the culture shock of returning home.

For the most part, I enjoyed my time in Germany. Laura, Dave, and I went on a university-organized day trip to the medieval city of Rothenberg, which was really beautiful. Marburg, with its high-on-the-hill fairy tale castle, was beautiful, too. Laura and I went to Gießen for a day as well. I went to Laura’s orchestra practice with her one evening, meeting a Goldsmiths student who was studying in Marburg for the year. I committed fare fraud and got caught (just like I did in London!). I went to school with Laura one evening, and while she attended her Finnish class I made photocopies for her and hung out in the lobby, watching people go by. We hit the email lab so I could worm my way into my Goldsmiths and Scranton email accounts and look for new messages. We went grocery shopping and spent much time hanging out with Laura’s American friends, many of who came from our area of Pennsylvania (since they were studying in Marburg through a Millersville University [in Lancaster County, PA] study-abroad program). It was strange and wonderful to be around so many Americans and native Pennsylvanians again. One of them had a boyfriend visiting from Lancaster, and he brought a stack of celebrity gossip magazines from home, so I was in heaven. Also? I discovered that Cinnamon Toast Crunch, which was at that point my favorite cereal and which wasn’t sold in England, could be bought in Germany, under the name Cini-Minis. Our reunion was utterly glorious.

There were some downsides, unfortunately. Clinical depression doesn’t just evaporate when you cross the border into an exciting new country. It was tough being away from my family on Christmas for the first time, and not having any presents to open on Christmas day. The temperatures in Germany were far colder than they were in England, and since I didn’t pack appropriately, I was always freezing. Marburg was very hilly (whereas London is quite flat), so I felt constantly exhausted and sore. I got sick not long after my arrival, and my full-throttle cold made me feel even chillier and more exhausted than I already was. Plus I’d started the pill in November and it made me periodically hemorrhage; sadly, this excessive, grotesquely messy, and energy-draining bleeding overshadowed part of my time in Germany.

Laura and I celebrated Winter Solstice with a silly ritual we kind of made up as went along. First, she read my medicine cards. It began snowing, which made us deliriously ebullient, and we ran outside into the snow-lit evening, dancing around and catching snowflakes not just on our tongues but also in a shot glass. To fill the glass we also had to scrape some snow off tree branches. Back in Laura’s room, we burned some leaves she had collected over the autumn, chewed on some stems, anointed each other with the burned leaves, melted the shot glass snow with a big purple candle, and drank a mixture of the melted snow and burned leaves. We went out onto her balcony and uttered wintertide blessings we created on the spot as we dropped a burned leaf and watched it twirl downwards.

On Christmas Eve Laura, her friends, and I hung out in their kitchen, cooking, chatting, relaxing. A bunch of her friends were vegetarians and vegans, so I had loads of meat-free food to enjoy. At night, after dinner and after a relaxing day of playing Monopoly and Jenga and reading People magazine, we went to midnight mass at some Catholic church, even though most of us were areligious. Of course I couldn’t understand a word being said (my German language knowledge extended to please, thank you, hello, blood and milk—the latter being ever so helpful), but the service was still magical.

Christmas morning brought vegan pancakes, which were followed by a walk through the forest. Well, it was supposed to be a simple walk, but it really turned into a death march of sorts after a while. Laura, bless her heart, was fit as a fiddle and had no problem bounding around the woods’ steep hills at a steady clip. I, on the other hand, was out of shape, out of breath, shivering, congested, coughing a watery cough, sore, bleeding profusely, inadequately dressed. We got lost, too, which meant our hike went on and on, world without end. I really became concerned after a while, thinking we’d never make it back to her dorm as we threaded our way through the utterly still forest. I even began crying a bit toward the end, so devoid of hope was I that we’d ever find our way home—at least before dark. After roughly eight hours of this, we finally managed to stumble back into her dorm at dusk. I was beyond exhausted and couldn’t feel my feet anymore. But I did warm up and cheer up while eating her friends’ vegetarian Christmas feast. After that I not-so-patiently waited for them to stop using the phone to talk to their families so I could talk to my own family back in States. At night we hung out and watched Father of the Bride, which was of course in German, so none of it made sense to me.

On Boxing Day Laura and I headed to Frankfurt, where we poked around the city for a bit in the snow while waiting for our flight to London (she came back with me for a week or two, and we commenced a reunion with three of our friends from home who were also visiting for a week or two). It was stupid of us to fly into London on Boxing Day, though; public transportation was nearly nonexistent, and the commute from Heathrow to my dorm—which generally only took two hours, at most—took over seven hours and required a complicated tango of maneuvering our way through the warren of the city on bus, tube, feet, and taxi.

That, in a nutshell, was my only non-family Christmas!


song heard most recently before posting: New Year’s Day/On Christmas Night—Bonnie Rideout, Maggie Sansone, Al Petteway, Eric Rigler

Happy Winter Solstice!

The shortest day of the year has begun. I always found it intriguing how, on the shortest day of the year and the first day of winter, the sun is about to reclaim dominion over the sky (in tiny increments). Likewise, even though Summer Solstice is the longest day of the year and the first day of summer, it also signals the beginning of lengthening nights, the axe swing toward winter. I like the yin and yangness of it all; it really serves as descriptive metaphor for my emotional life.

I have a book, The Winter Solstice: The Sacred Traditions of Christmas, by John and Caitlín Matthews, which delves into the history of Winter Solstice celebrations and the fundamental connection between Solstice and Christmas. It discusses Solstice rituals and traditions from cultures around the world, both current and modern, from the ancient Romans’ Saturnalia celebrations to the sun rites of the Zuñi and Hopi to Solstice in modern Taiwan. It covers the meaning behind each of the 12 days of Christmas, the Mummers, the Kalends of January, Hogmanay, Santa, Shamans, the Nativity, etc. It offers ways to celebrate the Solstice (making a winter shrine and preparing a Yule log, for example). It’s a fascinating book and I recommend perusing it if you get a chance. A nice description of Winter Solstice from the book:

The Solstice is a time of quietude, of firelight and dreaming, when seeds germinate in the cold earth and the cold notes of church bells mingle with the chimes of icicles. Rivers are stilled and the land lies waiting beneath a coverlet of snow. We watch the cold sunlight and the bright stars, maybe go for walks in the quiet land. Sometimes we go carol singing—even those who would normally never think of lifting their voice in song. Attending Midnight Mass, even for those without Christian beliefs, can become a special event. All around us the season seems to reach a standstill—a point of repose. Then, as the Solstice sun moves across the heavens, the new year wakens, the darkness is dispelled, the days grow longer, and we prepare for new beginnings.

song heard most recently before posting: The Sadness of the Autumn is Now O’er—Megha Morganfield

books

Happy 1st Birthday, Ethan Hubbard!!!

Yesterday at work we were told that free books were being given away in this little atrium outside one of our lawyers’ offices—I guess they’re downsizing our staff library (or eliminating it altogether) and wanted to get rid of some the books. Well, because the room was so tiny, there was a mad rush of people trying to get books and it was a bit out of control. And some people were walking out with a ton of books, which I thought was unfair. Especially since, by the time I managed to squeeze into the room, a lot of the good stuff was gone. One of the first books I saw was a history on orgies, and I was like, “...the hell? Our staff library has a book about orgies?” Someone said, “Some of these books actually came from the kitchen” (people drop off unwanted books on this one shelf in our staff kitchen, so they can be taken by people who are interested in them—it’s a nice form of recycling). Okay, but...someone thought it was appropriate to leave a book about orgies into the staff kitchen?? Love it. And naturally that was the first book I grabbed.

Last night, when I stopped by an Asian supermarket to buy some bonito fish flakes as part of Freyja’s xmas present, I found myself becoming utterly bedazzled by their Russian/Ukrainian food section. I’ve been to this supermarket who knows how many times and I never saw that Russian/Ukrainian food before. I guess I simply never made it down that particular aisle. I don’t know why, but I just love seeing Russian products! There’s a Russian store near my office and I get a kick out of perusing their shelves. I didn’t buy any of the Russian food I saw last night, but will probably do so in the future. (And yeah, just for the record, I did save food wrappers and whatnot from my time in St. Petersburg; all of it went into my geeky travel scrapbook!)

Closing thoughts:




song heard most recently before posting: Light is Returning—MotherTongue

the week before xmess

The baaaaaaad news: my iPod, which is only a year and a half old, went belly-up on Friday, and I had to send it to iPodMods.com for repairs. It was working fine on Thursday evening when I listened to it on my way home from work, but when I tried to listen to it on Friday morning, it went berserkers. I treat this iPod like royalty—I’m always very careful with it, thank you very much. And in return, it never gave me any grief—not even when I schlepped it through five European countries and a handful of US states. But now, suddenly, poof. Let’s hope it’s just a minor problem (a dying battery, say), and things don’t get overly screwed up when I try to reimport my iTunes library into the iPod after I get it back.

The good news: Uhhhh…lessee…is there any? Well, I’m nearly done with my Christmas shopping, so that’s good, but it’s not exactly a badge of honor, since Christmas is only a friggin’ week away. It’s not like I finished my shopping in November. And I still haven’t wrapped a damn thing! I’m going to kick aside any freelancing I’ve got next Saturday and instead spend the day wrapping presents.

I got a jump start on Saturday night, actually, after I finally heaved aside my day’s worth of freelancing. I decided to start painting the wooden letters I bought as gift identification tags, as well as supergluing wire onto the letters’ backs so the letters can serve as Christmas ornaments in the future. Pretty straightforward, right? Yeah, except I managed to get superglue all over my fingers. And my lips. Thus began my sizzling Saturday night of sitting home alone in my pajamas, watching Netflixed Doogie Howser DVDs (because I loved that show in high school, and I loved Neil Patrick Harris’s cute gay ass with the fire of a hundred suns, and if I could’ve had his babies I would’ve done so in a heartbeat), and frantically trying to remove superglue from my lips and my paint-spattered fingers. I’m exactly what the Beastie Boys had in mind when they sang for their right to party.

I’ve gotten back into reading McSweeney’s lately; here are some of my faves:

AN OVERHEARD CONVERSATION AT THE SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD POOL, IF THE SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD POOL WERE IN DEADWOOD.

JOHN MOE’S POP-SONG CORRESPONDENCES, VOLUME V: A LETTER BETWEEN SIBLINGS WHO LIVED IN THE HOUSE DESCRIBED IN “OUR HOUSE” BY MADNESS.

THE GAY AGENDA.

CORMAC MCCARTHY WRITES TO THE EDITOR OF THE SANTA FE NEW MEXICAN.
(this one made me laugh because I read his book The Road a few months ago, and this mimics his writing style perfectly)

OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVE VALENTINES.

POEMS THAT WERE CONSIDERED AND REJECTED BEFORE ’TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS WAS ESTABLISHED AS “THE OFFICIAL AMERICAN CHRISTMAS POEM.”

FROM THE GRAD SCHOOLYARD: THE DIARRHEA SONG.

STORIES THAT WOULD HAVE TURNED OUT DIFFERENTLY IF THE PROTAGONISTS HAD HAD CELL PHONES.

THREE NEW MAC AD IDEAS.


song heard most recently before posting: Winter Solstice—R. Carlos Nakai

quotes

Lately I’ve been trying, piecemeal, to overhaul my quotes collection. Since time immemorial I’ve worked to provide a full citation for each quote; ie, not just say that Nietzsche wrote something, but specify that he wrote it in The Antichrist. And since many of my quotes were directly encountered by me through various means (books that I read, songs that I heard, words spoken and written to me, etc), this has not been a problem.

However, I also found many quotes through secondhand sources (online collections, published quotation anthologies, article and book mentions, etc), and if the quotes were cited incorrectly and/or incompletely in those sources, then they are also cited incorrectly and/or completely in my collection. This is what I’m trying to fix. But it’s not easy! So many quotes collections—especially the collections found online, but sometimes even in print editions—only provide a name and no further information. This annoys the crap out of me; I really want to break away from doing the same thing in my own collection. Why is this such a popular way to provide quotes to the masses? It’s lazy and sloppy and looks bad. And why do so many collections provide no information at all? I’ve seen quite a few that just list quotes with no additional information whatsoever—not even the quote utterer’s name. Gack!

Anyway, so I’ve been taking a break from my ever-hearty freelancing schedule to research quotes at my local public library. I’m astounded at how much noise is contained therein! Sure, they’ve banned cell phones (thank god!), but they really don’t do much to curb chatting people and screaming kids. I felt like a miserable old crone when I was glaring at all the gabbing teens and shrieking toddlers. If I weren’t so lazy I’d maybe try to infiltrate the University of Maryland’s main library for my research, because I’m sure it’s much quieter there—not to mention the fact that my research pickings would be much juicier. But, like I said, I’m too lazy. And, who knows, maybe you even need a student ID to access the library. (Yeah, I’m too lazy to even phone the library to find out.)

In a completely different vein, I took an online personality disorder quiz a while back, and here are my results:

• Paranoid - 54% (average: 49%)
• Schizoid - 86% (average: 53%) (Heh; appropriately enough, I went through a period in college when I was convinced I had Schizoid Personality Disorder.)
  
• Schizotypal - 66% (average: 53%)
• Antisocial - 26% (average: 47%)
• Borderline - 50% (average: 47%)
• Histrionic - 14% (average: 43%)
• Narcissistic - 22% (average: 41%)
• Avoidant - 74% (average: 39%)
• Dependent - 22% (average: 37%)
• Obsessive-Compulsive - 42% (average 40%)
  

I also took a career quiz which ties in with Myers-Briggs. My results:

Your type is INFP [Withdrawn (I) 83.87%, Imaginative (N) 69.44%, Emotional (F) 69.44%, Improvised (P) 54.55%]

You are an Idealist. Possible professions include: graphics designer, college professor, researcher, legal mediator, social worker, holistic health practitioner, occupational therapist, diversity manager, human resource development specialist, employment development specialist, minister/priest/rabbi, missionary, psychologist, writer.

Hot! I should be a priest!



song heard most recently before posting: Yellin’ at the Christmas Tree—Billy Idol