Res Ipsa Loquitor

Christmas has come and gone.
New Year's is pending, but I have no idea how I'll be spending it. Mostly because I never worried too much about it. I realize the holiday is made for drinking(See also St. Patrick's Day)-- But I'm not a drinker. Besides, it never held much meaning for me. To me, it's been a totally contrived holiday based on an arbitrary decision regarding when the year should stop and start. Time is continuous. These minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years are our attempts to pigeon-hole it.
"12 months go by- hello! hello! hello! hello! - Of their own accord. And behold-- Another year begins!"

Maybe I'm thinking too much. Or maybe not enough. But I've reached a point in my life where I don't want to be celebrating a holiday "just because". If I celebrate, it needs to have a reason. Otherwise my heart's just not in it. And lip-service is sometimes worse than just turning it down all togther. So says the aspiring writer about her crisis of faith/spirituality. In her on-going search to be 'a good woman', she finds herself going the way of Ben Horne after his 'Dixieland Epiphany'.

But this 'aspiring' writer will someday be a 'celebrated author'... But not if I don't finish the Manuscript. D'oh!