Clanging in the New Year …

… because “ringing” just wouldn’t cover it, and I’m not entirely sure what it’s supposed to mean, anyway. I have never, intentionally, “rung” a year, much less a new one. I find that, once they age a bit, their tone improves, so why ring them when they’re all new and shiny? Let them tarnish a bit, collect some wisdom and experience, and then RING THE SHIT OUTTA THEM!!! Evidently, I will clang a new year, which conjures up strange images in my head, and ever stranger sounds. Who knows what that’s all about.

This is a newsy sorta update, and I may be prone to ramble, as I do when I haven’t updated for some time. If you’re looking for something interesting to read, move on. If you find ME interesting, then feel free to stick around, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Christmas, for me, is about tradition. Every year builds on the memories of previous years to help make each year a little more special. The cool thing about traditions for me is that the longer you do them, the cooler they get. I don’t ascribe to religious or spiritual traditions, just the ones that I have chosen to personally adopt into my life, and my favorite of these is probably spending Christmas in Port Townsend. I spent a few with my dad, from time to time, but without siblings around, and lights downtown, and being able to sit on a street-corner and watch random people walking by in holiday bliss, it was never quite the same.

I went to Port Townsend this year for Christmas, to spend time with my mom, my step-dad, and my sister. Coyote had been living in New Hampshire, and just moved back, so this was the first time in awhile we’ve been able to share a Christmas. Holidays in PT are always relaxing, and I get a lot of reading done, sans distractions, which is very nice. I was up there for about five days, blissed out on good food and pleasant company, lots of walks, and red cheeks from the brisk wind blowing off the Sound.

After Christmas, I recuperated a few days in Olympia, then drove down with Theo and Rachel on the last day of the year to celebrate with Jason and Amy in Portland. I have mixed feelings about New Year celebrations. It seems to me like nothing aside from a blatant excuse for EVERYONE to get drunk. I understand the idea of making new beginnings, though I try to be aware, and make beginnings, whenever they need to be made, rather than waiting for a number on the calendar to change. Which isn’t to say that the holiday itself wasn’t charged with revolution.

The first day of the year, I broke a sweet girl’s heart. On the one hand, it’s a horrible way to start a year. On the other, I did it because I felt it was the right decision, and the resolve and courage it took to follow through are not a bad way to make a new beginning. The idea, now, is to maintain this “single” existence, partially because I really do want to work devotedly on making a better me, and also to avoid hurting any more wonderful people. Eight months. It seems so short and so long, and it’s all still a mystery and a dream, an idea that may or may not come to pass, though I declare that something will happen in that time, even if it be not what is planned.

Anyway, I toast you readers, in this New Year.

May it, indeed, rock your faces off.

CLANG!