I have survived the kissmoose holiday and have entered into the long dark teatime between the unwrapping of gifts and my birthday, which I like to think is the real end of my holiday season.
For New Years, I do try to spend a moment or three in quiet contemplation. I did for a while, and Colin crawled onto me to rest his fuzzy head on my cheek and purr me to sleep. As beautiful as such moments are, they aren't contemplative. They are restorative and good for my soul. I've got a sore throat, so I needed sleep more than contemplation anyway. But I do try think of what I can do to make 2006 better than 2005. I've gotten yet another part time job, and I hope this works out okay. I like having work to do because it keeps me from spending money. And anything I can do to help cut up our debts must be good. But it may not be as satisfying as say creating a pretty quilt or writing a nice story. I am more of a craftsman. I like to make things with my hands. I like to sit and concentrate, and when I get up in an hour see the difference. Most of us are like this. Alas, most of the stuff I like to do, I can't think of why anyone would pay me for, so it is only done for the joy of doing. This isn't a crime either.
But still, I know my list of sewing projects includes finishing the baby quilt for my new neice, Arianna, due in April or so; a vest for Jazz to shoot darts in that isn't "too"; and now I have to work on wedding wallhanging for March, and a baby quilt for, I'd guess July. Plus I have the Dear Jane I am working on by hand- it's going to be a long time before that gets even halfway done.
But the list of writing projects seems curiously empty and nebulous. Sure, there are stories I've started, and I vaguely know where they want to go, but I don't sit down and think of them the same way I tackle my sewing project. I don't think of them so thoroughly and I believe that is a fault. I have to think about the plot and the details and let it worry me more and think about what ought to happen next and how to craft where to go from here and how to intertwine it all. I have to let myself become obsessed with a story like I become wrapped in a project I really like. I don't like the quilt I am making for the neice- it's due first, but it's ugly, and it's an expirament that is going badly and I don't know how to twist it so it'll be charming. But I have been thinking about the vest and the wallhanging, and my fingers positively itch to get started. I have to itch for a story. I have to finish one this year, I think. I want to get one done so it's worthy of notice, of publication. Even if I only spend 15 minutes a day thinking and maybe writing a paragraph, it's the same as doing a needleful of thread in a long-term embroidery project. It can get done that way. And I must.
I have a cold now. Thanks to visiting my folks and forgetting my vitamins, the resistance went haywire. So I will try to relax and not fret too much and heal. I find it amusing I am ending 2005 the same way I started it- not feeling well at all.
Happy new year, all. May 2005 be better than 2006. The last thing anyone wants is someone showing up with pickaxes and dynomite to make it any worse.