As various things in daily life continue to drive me to Lovecraftian heights of peace and contentment, a pair of odd things cropped up only a few hours apart the other day.

I’m reminded suddenly of the need to update NV’s welcome post, but two of my keenest professional interests are writing and voice acting. Interestingly enough, a magazine editor I’ve done work for in the past officially extended an offer to me for another project I had heard was on the back burner.

Things are somewhat hush-hush at the moment, but it’s very good news for my resume and portfolio. Oh, and I have three days to get a first draft done for further conceptual development. Oh well, it’s better than the 12 hour start-to-finish deadline I got one other time (which I pulled off, thanks).

That development alone would have made falling out of bed bearable for the rest of the week, but then I  rechecked my email because I’m an internet paranoiac and hope to trip up the Singularity.

I need to do this again now that the list is  bigger, but I sent a demo recording to several literary podcasts several months ago to see if I could land anything as a contributing reader. After having assumed I’d either been lost in the shuffle or hadn’t provided the right kind of sample, I suddenly found myself with a story to record.

Actually, knowing how busy the next few days are shaping up with that magazine and some other projects, I recorded the whole thing last night. Editing should only take a few hours. The source reserves the right to tell me I suck so I’d rather not name the show right now, but let it suffice to say I did a little spit-take when I saw the editor’s name in my inbox.

The astute observer will notice absolutely none of this is certain, and I realize being happy so soon could just be a case of premature congratulations. The timing, though, feels weird and, whether I say this with tongue in cheek or not I’ll let the reader decide, cosmic. If nothing else, I’ve got some neat stuff to work on this weekend.

Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing against New Year’s celebrations. I have nothing against Christmahanzaquannika or any of the other myriad celebrations that crop up in early winter. In my adult life, I have found you don’t have to be personally convinced of a ritual or observance’s correctness to take something away from it. I’m simply in the unfortunate position of never having felt much wonderment at the turning over of the calendar.

Have I reached milestones? Sure, but most of the ones I can think of were academic, and occurred midsummer. The surrounding winters were all either too early for anticipation or too long gone for enthusiasm.

Have I ever hoped for anything? Of course. I’m hoping very badly for something right now, and have been for years. It’s difficult to trust one New Year will bring changes to one’s life when several have come and gone without it.

Pardon the doom and gloom; I don’t mean to piss on your fireworks. I’m only saying that New Year’s has never meant much to me one way or the other. I don’t think, coincidentally, that I’ve ever managed to stay awake until midnight, and I’ve certainly never been anywhere but home. That last part isn’t a complaint. I hate crowds; never bother looking for me in Time Square.

This year, on the other hand, is actually slipping by with some modicum of notice. I am, predictably, in bed. Alone, groggy as hell and in all manner of physical pain from completely reorganizing my room all day, I’m lying here thinking about the few things I’d really like to see come out of 2012. Unfortunately, two out of the three major ones are entirely dependent upon people I don’t even know exist yet. The bit in the Serenity Prayer about “the things I cannot change” has never made sense to me. Why would I worry about something that does lie
within my power to change? I’d just got change it. That doesn’t leave me with much else to indulge myself in worrying about.

I’d keep talking for a while to prove I’m really not in a bad mood, but I really did a number on my back today, and I can’t discuss what hasn’t even considered happening yet. Bear in mind: the Ghosts of Christmases Past an Present had a lot more to say than the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

Season’s Greetings and a Happy New Year to you all,
Matt

PS, look at that: I made it past Midnight. Small victories, ladies and gentlemen.