Young and Foolish

Today is the last day of an awful year and a horrible decade. Part of me can't wait for it to be over, but mostly, I don't care. I feel unmoored, which is a strange way to start a new year. If anything, it serves to highlight how arbitrary new year's is; one more mark on the calendar. Most of you probably know why this year has been so difficult, but the decade is more complex. It's hard to separate the wreck of this nameless decade from my twenties. They both started bright and burned fast, full of heartbreak and flagging optimism. Then, I was young and foolish, ready to fly off the handle all the time. Now I am more circumspect and cynical.

This was my first Christmas without my maternal grandparents. I didn't really feel like celebrating. I never caught the holiday spirit (just gastroenteritis and two colds), since I was working on a show that closed only a few days before Christmas. Most of the items on that overly ambitious knitting list went unfinished or unmade. Normally, that would make me feel guilty, but this year, people got purchased gifts of indifference. Not shitty or thoughtless, but not up to my usual standards. I wonder when that will return, or if that line drawn through my life of before and after is impermeable.

Christmas itself was fine. I came down with a cold, which made my favorite dinner of the year pretty flavorless. My gifts were well received, I think. It was a capital year for knitting gadgets. My Aunt Maria gave me a Knit Kit, which is like a swiss army knife for knitters that looks like a pack of birth control pills. My mom gave me a swift, ball winder, sweater stone, and blocking tiles. It must have been a capital month for Knitpicks. I can wind yarn whenever I want now, if the cat is otherwise occupied. I also got a Borders gift card, which I used today to get a knitting daily calendar (at 50% off, I'm less irritated by the ratio of bad to good patterns), the latest issue of Mental Floss, and two L.M. Montgomery books to replace copies that were loved to death in my childhood. Ninety-seven cents remain on the card, which delights me more than that amount in change possibly could.

Perhaps I will curl up in my bed with one of the books, under my new electric blanket. A mug of cocoa might be nice. I received a few NYE party invites, but I think they will fall to the wayside. I'm generally wary of events requiring universal felicity. No matter what you do, they're almost always a letdown. This year, I think a good wallow is required, which is how I rang in 2000. Well, that and a pretentious black and white art film, but I'll skip that part of the evening. Maybe I'll catch a good Law and Order or House marathon and get some serious knitting done. I overheard my mom and Aunt Holly making plans to exchange gifts in a couple weeks, and my gifts for them are as yet unmade.


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