Happy New Year!

No, that's not a misprint. According to the Celts, today is New Year's. Well, sort of. To the Celts, the year was divided into two sections - the "light half" ran from May 1 until Halloween, then the "dark half" held sway from November 1 back to the start of May. Therefore, yesterday was New Year's Eve.

Key to understanding this idea of two half-years is a basic concept of Celtic theology. Where we moderns (or post-moderns, I always confuse the two) tend to look at things from a dualistic point of view, those wacky Celts were more inclusive.

OK, that's not too clear to me, and I'm the one writing it. Let me back up and try again.

These days, we tend to see things as "either/or." Something is either good or it's bad. Theology-wise, we tend to view light as "good" and dark as "bad." The Celts were more rounded, viewing events as more like points along a spectrum (or circle, being rounded and all). Things just are - they aren't one or the other; it's bigger than that. Put in modern Halloween terms, the modern Western view is Swedish fish (all chewy, all red, nothing chocolate-coated and mutilayered) while the Celts are more like Reese's Cups (chocolate and peanut butter).

What all this means is that to the Celts, the "dark half" isn't a bad, icky, scary time. Growth takes energy and that's what the "light half" of the year is for. But you can't sustain that always and forever - you need the "dark half" of longer nights and quieter time to contemplate what's coming next, to recharge and refresh so you can be ready to spring forth when the light time comes.

Not a bad idea, when you think about it. In the meantime, we poor mods (post-mods; whatever) are just about to enter what is (for many of us) the wackiest of times - holidays. Multiple guests, special food, redecorate the house, send cards and letters (most of us don't do much of that during the year, then feel we suddenly need to turn into Victorians - we even go caroling!), and feel inferior if we don't have a handmade centerpiece that would take a staff of six a solid week to create in the first place.

I think my Celtic ancestors may have had the right idea all along.

Concerts & Growing Older

Something like six months ago, I purchased tickets to go see Metallica as a gift to FryDaddy, who has a metal streak. I've gone to a number of concerts in my day, although metal has never been my style. What the heck, right? I mean, Metallica has been around since the early 80s and - let's face it - to be around in any kind of live performance music scene for the better part of 25 years means that you've grown up and figured a few things out.

Very true for the band. Less so for some of the fans.

Sigh. I grow old.

The show was a lot of fun, after I re-set my brain. It's been a l-o-n-g time since I'd "done" an arena show and I'd forgotten about opening acts (a French metal band? Really? And another whose specialty really seemed to be throat-clearing. I guess I'm just a sucker for lyrics) and the dangerous mixture of overpriced beer, cigarettes, and rednecks with a babysitter watching the kids at home. Before I become too much of a curmudgeon, I must say that the folks in our row were actually fantastic - and even the half-baked fanboys behind us were polite in their own way. Nevertheless, my clothes were in the washer before I dropped off to an exhausted sleep.

But you go to a show for the main act, not the cannon fodder openers. (OK, one day, they might be huge. Don't care. ) Metallica did a great show - high energy, amazing effects that weren't overdone and a highly enthusiastic crowd. And I have to respect not only the band's longevity and three-generation fanbase, but nigh-unbelievable speed and substantial lyrical range.

But I'm older now and the workweek starts early.

Things I've Learned

Okay, I still have a few days of vacation, but I've learned enough to warrant a post today instead of waiting.

First and foremost - do not take work on vacation! I know, I know, most of you are far smarter than Mockingbird and already knew this nugget of information. I thought I'd done pretty well by only working for an hour or two each day, but that time adds up and I woke up this morning with my mind whirling.

Sigh. Completely unable to appreciate the sand and the warm October ocean. I should be ashamed.

Second, but closely related - vacation means "vacating." As in vacating from everyday cares and woes. Have the cream sauce. Go see a matinee of a first-run movie and make buttered popcorn your lunch. Browse the used bookstore (by the way, I tore through some brain candy while I was away. It's useful to clear your head of theory and Grown-Up Things from time to time). Remember that the scorching smell just might be your psychic brake pads warning of imminent disaster and that play serves a serious purpose.

So before FryDaddy and I leave here, I'm going for a last walk on the beach. The work will still be here when I get back and, while I may not know much, I know better than to grade angry. (Okay, so I'm not actually "angry," but you get the idea. Right? Right.)

Off Season!

Hard work comes with rewards. Sure, some of those are rather ephemeral - you know, that warm, fuzzy feeling that comes with knowing you've done hard work well. That sort of thing. But there are tangible, quantifiable rewards, too.

For me, that means getting out of town for a little while. This semester has been extra-crispy and I need to regroup a bit. It's serendipity how everything all came together. I leave for the Southern regional popular culture conference tomorrow - FryDaddy's coming with me. I'll have two days to renew some friendships and take in what other people have been working on, and then I present on Saturday. (Joss Whedon's Dollhouse and its links to Ovid's Metamorphoses. I know it sounds odd, but trust me - it works.) Then we leave for the beach for several days of off-season sand and sun. (And hopefully starfish.) I'm hoping for some serious downtime.

It's safe to say that my version of downtime bears little to no resemblance to the hedonistic parades celebrated on MTV (which, by the way, never seems to actually play videos anymore, which makes me feel both sad and old). I'm hoping for sleeping past seven, an extra cup of coffee enjoyed on the porch swing with a hot Original Glazed from Krispy Kreme, and a movie in the middle of the day.

It might not sound like much, but to me it sounds like next door to heaven. And it's my vacation, so that's what really counts, I suppose!

Moving Toward Fall

It's fall today. Apple cider and pumpkin pie. Football games (although, as a Panthers fan, this could be a long, sorrowful season). A Crock-Pot with a pot roast. The promise of Halloween.

Sure, it was warm and sunny today - certainly still felt like summer. But the change of seasons is marked by either an equinox or a solstice. The equinoxes mean that the day and night are of equal length; that marks the start of spring and autumn. The solstices are the longest day (that starts summer) or the longest night (that starts winter). Today was the autumnal equinox, so summer is officially over. I think that's a good thing - summer's been swelteringly hot, my tomatoes never really took off the way I hoped, and Spooky has dug a series of holes deep enough to serve as a receptacle for punji sticks that I need to fill before I get careless and sprain an ankle.

Seems like my day should be a little more centered if the whole cosmos is in balance, but not so much. Things aren't totally out of whack - it's no Hopi Koyaanisqatsi - but things are not exactly balanced on Mockingbird's see-saw just at the moment.

Yet summer also had its moments of surprise and joy - and I daresay fall will, too.

Brave New Technical World!

I've been dealing with a number of technical issues - in fact, I'm not proud to report that I hung up on tech support in frustration. To be fair, that was after repeated spellings of my name in the International Radio Alphabet (you know, "Mike, Oscar, Charlie, Kilo . . .") and still not being understood! Sigh. And yes, my tech help was located somewhere in Delhi. I hate being a cliche.

But now, thanks to FryDaddy, I now have a printer/scanner/fruit juicer as well as a bona-fide wireless router. No longer is Mockingbird chained to her desk! It's a grand day in which I was able to retire the old system, which was about as technically advanced as two tin cans and a length of twine. The only downside I've seen so far is that Spooky is a bit confused - shouldn't I be sitting at the desk looking at that screen? Not carrying it to the sofa. Or the study. Or the dining room table.

Yay! Technology and a confused dog! It's been a good day.

No - Try It Over Here!

Every now and again, a Mockingbird needs to nest. In my case, I have a nest (a rather cozy one, in my opinion), but it needed some sprucing up. This may be due to the Great Office Move of '09 - I'm box-free but the floor is somewhere under various piles of pictures and things that I'm sure I'll need someday. Anyone else ever been there? Anyway, I'm trying to move some things around at home, make a little room, clear out some clutter . . . it's amazing how much stuff you discover you have when you begin doing this sort of thing. And not even useful stuff - I must have put fifty pens aside to donate to some charity or another. Now who needs fifty pens? Fifty EXTRA pens, I should say - I still have plenty of writing utensils, have no fear!

But I think every stick of furniture either has been moved or has been seriously considered for moving. (OK, there's an exception there for the piano. It's not moving. Ever.) I can also report that FryDaddy and Victorian Marxist are virtual oxen when it comes to moving heavy things down narrow hallways. And isn't a sleeper sofa a grand thing when you're not having to tip it vertically and twirl it to get it to fit through a doorway?

The lovely and talented Spooky has been a bit distressed by all the hoopla, but she forgives me easily enough with a pig ear or two, so that's all right. And I now have a study. Or maybe a den; I haven't quite decided.