“They say that the way you spend New Year’s is the way you’ll spend the rest of your year.”

That is the phrase that I repeated to two customers this week.  I am pretty sure that I heard it off of a television show.  That hardly adds credence to its truth, but it feels like an amusing thing to say.  Part of me thinks it is a dare to get people off their bums and go outside. 

“You do not want to spend the next twelve months sitting on the couch eating ice cream and flipping through beer commercials, do you?  Go!  Socialize!  Watch fireworks!”

Such motivation does not really work on me.  I have no problem eating ice cream when it is cold outside and DVDs have no beer commercials.  Also, the allure of fireworks is somewhat lost on me. 

“Hey look, magnesium.  Chemical interactions occurring as science would dictate they should.  Minor tweaks in their makeup to ensure a colorful display.  Oooooooh.” 

(Shrug)  Sunrises; those I get.  Sparklers with an ego the size of Topeka?  No thanks.  Although, it could be that our resident fireworks have been notorious the last few years for having quirks.  Explosions happening out of synch with the program, music problems, and fireworks simply not going off; add all that to rain and you find that Seattle does not have much to boast about in the boom department.

My New Year’s Eve so far:  Lifted some things, talked to the cat, read some of a book, talked to the cat, and after I finish typing, stroll to work, and sit in a comic shop for the day.  Then I will catch a bus home (while I read some of that same book), probably bake a berry pie, talk to the cat some more, and maybe read some more of a book. 

I know.  Exciting stuff.

That is where the glitz and glamor of that earlier suggestion fails.  It does not really offer an incentive to introvert nerds.  I already have the books and the cat, all I need is more time.  You folks just offered me three hundred and sixty-five days of reading in a comic shop.  Why the sam hill would I want to do something different?

Yep, they simply do not motivate those of us that are already content.

(Now, if one had offered the change earlier this the week, then there might be some wiggle room.  My full time job is slammed.  When everyone goes on vacation, my job becomes two- to three-times as hard.  I will be thrilled when everyone stops having fun and goes back to work or school or not where I am.  Flee!) 

Big picture, I would rank myself as content.  But I do not know if I would always count myself as happy.  I do not love my full time job, but I do not hate it.  My relationships could use a little work.  As I told my mom earlier this year, I have all the stuff that I need to do what I want; now I am trying to figure out what else I want for my life.   

Still, I feel as though I am in a rut.  Do I like sitting at home reading every day?  Yes; quite a bit.  Do I pine for the notion of going out to eat, dressing up, or wining and dining with the Joneses?  No.  Yet I feel like there is a nebulous source of happiness somewhere in the middle.  One or two little variables could use some tweaking in order for me to smile more often. 

The trouble is that I have yet to fully get a lock on that thing.

So I continue to ponder.  Perhaps these stacks of books and piles of cat hair will one day reveal to me what I am missing.  Or maybe I will stumble upon it in the interactions that I engage in as part of my job.  A little prayer could not hurt, right?  God only knows.

However, I am quite sure that being surrounded by thousands of people, freezing our fingers off, and all clustered together is not how I want to spend the next fifty-two weeks.  Not only is my cat rather warm, she cares about fireworks about as much as I do.  (Which is to say, not at all.  Hooray for pets that do not freak out.)

Whether you have peace or a party, I hope it works out well for you.  Happy New Year.