So it's now the year 2002. It doesn't feel any different than the year previous, but at the same time there's this subtle sparkle; its as if everything is new and waiting to be unwrapped, like a shiny gift on your birthday. Why do we celebrate each new year so much? Is it because there is, perhaps, the promise of a "new slate?" Are we driven by the perceived chance at redemption for all the things we did in the previous 12 months that we are ashamed of? Or is it something more basic, more inherent to our human nature? We as a species have always been somewhat obsessed with the notion of "time." Marking the period that elapses from one significant event to another has become crucial to our society. Think of birthdays. We celebrate being "another year older" on our birthdays, when in actuality we are only another day older than we were the day before. It's not as if you're 14 years old the entire year after your 14th birthday. No, you're 14 years and 1 day, then 14 years and 2 days... you see where I'm going with this, gentle reader.

For some reason the human race has settled upon the year as the standard demarcation point for significant events, such as anniversaries, birthdays and (at the risk of sounding redundant) years. As I said earlier, I can't really understand what all the fuss is about... but at the same time, I can't help but be caught up by some of the electricity in the air that is generated by my friends, family, coworkers, neighbors... heck, pretty much the entire nation. It's a little bit like laughing gas -- if you get just a whiff, you sense that there may be a lot more where that came from, and you have to decide if you're in for a penny or in for a pound....

My plants for this year's New Year's Eve were pretty much scrapped thanks to my cat's continued backslide. I had planned to be in the Rockford area, hanging out with the Captain, neuracnu and one or two other people. Unfortunately, Ra's health has been worrisome enough that I had to consult with the vet on Monday afternoon. After about 20 minutes it was decided that we needed to try a much different approach, especially since the doctor agreed with me that his scratching and the scabbing that is taking place is bad. Ra is now on a hypo-allergenic diet, and I have to keep an eye on him as much as possible this week to ensure that he isn't ingesting anything other than that food or water. I have also been given a batch of steroids for Ra to take, twice a day. Poor little black cat, he's taking Prednisone now. How weird is that? Almost all the medicine I have given him (with the exception of the Metaclopramide) has been medication that I myself have taken at one time or another.

I brought Ra home, dosed him with the Prednisone, and fed him. He didn't eat the night before, and he didn't seem too inclined to eat last night either. Eventually he went over to his bowl, ate a few nuggets of food, then disappeared. Not long after I heard the sound I've come to dread: he was throwing up what he'd eaten. Deciding that I needed to stay home and keep an eye on him I ran out to get some cleaning supplies, came back and stayed home the rest of the evening. I evidently missed a call from the Captain, who was concerned I'd showed up and missed them (The thought had been that they'd inadvertently stood them up, when it was really the other way around). Of course, I didn't know they'd called because my phone was being stupid... it was just a series of silly things happening all at once. I'm bummed that I didn't get to hang out with my friends up in Rockford, but I guess maybe this was for the best, because Ra took tending all night and is looking a little better today. This makes me think that maybe I'm doing something right.

Since I didn't make it to Rockford, what I did end up doing was spending my evening watching Cartoon Network, sipping on some gin & tonic, and hanging out online with the folks who were around on #watertower and with a group of my friends on FurryMUCK, something that I guess is becoming a tradition because this was the fourth year I've done it. That was, in a way, rather interesting. While I got to chat with some good friends and some acquaintances, the time of year and the events surrounding me left me feeling rather nostalgic. I suppose you could attribute it to deja vu, but I found myself spending a lot of time thinking about the previous years where I was doing pretty much the exact same thing at the exact same time. I was left feeling a little nostalgic for what has been dubbed by a friend of mine as the "good ol' bad old days." Perhaps this is more of a general mood, however; that could be why I've been dreaming about my old job in Minnesota, or my old high school, or any number of other things that have been out of my life for several years at this point.

I didn't make any resolutions for this new year. I thought about it, for a while, but I decided that I wouldn't. It's been my experience that people in general mean well with their resolutions, but that their importance tends to fade and ultimately be forgotten. Some of the resolutions I would make, if I didn't follow through on them, I'd feel bad for breaking them and I might end up hurting somebody else. I don't want that sort of load on my shoulders. What I have opted to do instead is to simply continue setting my goals, keeping them well-documented and continue to pursue them as I have been doing so for the last few months. Goal number one: remove all my revolving, unsecured debt. Goal two (this is partially dependent upon goal one): buy a house. Those two goals are the biggest on my radar screen at this point, and they're both pretty important, so I don't think I'll lose sight of them any time soon. The other things, such as individual improvement, diet changes and the like... I guess I'll just cross those bridges as I come to them.

Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: Peter Gabriel - Games Without Frontiers