Heretofore, I've always liked New Year's more for the champagne and staying up 'til midnight (not that I'm not awake until midnight most nights, but it's a carry-over from childhood, when this was the one night of the year staying up 'til midnight was not merely allowed, but actually approved) and the tiny brilliant jewel of numerological symbolism than for any strong feelings about the NEWNESS of the new year.

I theorize (because, as you may have noticed, EVERYTHING in my life needs an intellectual apparatus) that this is in part because up until May 2004, my life was structured by the academic calendar, in which the lump of winter surrounding Christmas and New Year's was more in the nature of hitting pause on the VCR to get up, go to the bathroom, get a snack, than it was hitting eject to put in a new tape.

If that metaphor makes even the slightest sense, which I doubt.

However, comma, I'm not an academic any longer, and that fundamental truth may finally be sinking in. (What can I say? Deprogramming takes a while.) And I do actually have strong feelings about things I want to change, things I want to do better about, things that have--frankly--sucked; this particular New Year's is feeling like an opportunity to at least ARTICULATE these things, even knowing that I'm not going to wake up on January 1st and miraculously COPE with them all.

So.

1. Physical health. I need to exercise. Despite the boredom of it all. And despite my chronic health problems (no, they're not serious, just tiresome, and no, I'm not going to talk about it). In 2007 I want to find workarounds so that I can maintain some sort of exercise regimen.

2. Piano. Part of the suckitude of the last quarter of 2006 was that I got very weird and depressed and defeatist about the piano. I want this to change. Note to self: buying new sheet music is really not a crime.

3. Finances. Keeping up with the bookkeeping of same. I know WHAT needs to happen, and have for years. I need to work on noticing when I start to backslide, and then, you know, NOT.

4. Summerdown. Due August 1st. 'Nuff said.

5. Housekeeping. I am a slatternly housekeeper. The house deserves better.

I could go on--I'm a perfectionist: there are always more flaws to work on--but I think those are the important things, the sources of welling discontent with myself.

No, okay. One more, and the reason I chose the particular user icon I did:

6. I will not try to "keep up" with other authors of my acquaintance. I work as fast and as well as I work. Nobody else can be my benchmark. The creatures that mutter in dimly lit corners of my brain are just going to have to find something else to mutter about. This topic is off the list.

Tomorrow the check will go in the mail with the last payment for the Blüthner.

katallen tells it like it is: writers is nutz.

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Still working on the Maple Leaf Rag. Also teaching myself to play "In the Mood," "Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy," "La Bamba," "Mack the Knife," and various other songs of that ilk. Keeping in mind that Scott Joplin is the uppermost limit of my technical proficiency, any suggestions for sheet music collections, especially of blues and folk-music, would be very much appreciated. (I recognize the irony, believe me, but since I have no ability to play by ear, nor to improvise, nor to compose, if I want to play something, I have to have sheet music. Them's the breaks.)

I love having a piano again. I love being able to wander out, play for five or ten minutes, and wander away again. I love being able to sit down and play for an hour, if that's what I want to do. I love the fact that I have no one to please but myself. I love the fact that I can please myself.

( reflections on piano lessons and the American cultural ethos )

Scott Joplin is a right bastard to play.

But, dude, he is so worth it.

The Blüthner has landed.

My piano is going to be delivered tomorrow.

I cannot believe how geeked I am about this. I spent much of the weekend, when I should have been working on Chapter 14 (it hates me, and I'm beginning to suspect it may be Undead, as well), surfing the web looking at pictures of old grand pianos.¹ I learned rather a lot about Steinways, Bösendorfers², and Bechsteins, as well as Blüthners.

I discovered that I love old grand pianos. Not in the Gotta catch 'em all! Pokemon sense, but in terms of hopelessly admiring their beauty and being stunned with wonder that they exist and have survived and are still being played. I really did spend hours simply looking at pictures and reading descriptions and wanting to rescue these magnificent dowagers from the people who put CD players in them.

So here is my invitation to all y'all. If you love, or have loved, a grand piano, tell me about it. As much detail as you want. And if you can link to pictures, that's definitely a bonus.

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1. Apparently "antique" is a term applied only to pianos built before about 1850, when the current soundboard shape was developed. (The history and development of the piano grossly oversimplified for the sake of not having a footnote longer than the main post.)

2. One thing I learned is that Bösendorfers do not please my sense of visual aesthetics. Their sound quality may be fantastic, but my GOD those puppies* are ugly.

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*Speaking of puppies, cmpriest is trying to help one find a home. And he's not ugly at all, poor lamb.

My Blüthner will be delivered in exactly one month.

Saturday, I fell in love again.

Yesterday, there was soul-searching and paperwork.

Today, it is official.

I have hocked my soul for a 1911 Blüthner grand. Which can't come home until August, but that's okay. Also means I'll be looking for a part-time job once Kekropia is turned in, but that's okay, too.

Preciousssss.

It's in beautiful condition, and playing it is like drinking champagne. Even though I am so very appallingly rusty and in fact play like I have been drinking champagne, and rather too much of it.

The Blüthner seems prepared to bear with me.

Thank you, everyone, for your sympathy re: the cat. It's not, of course, the same as having to help a human loved one through the process of dying, but it has its own set of griefs (which ursulav talks about very well here). It's cancer of the jaw, so he's having more and more trouble eating, but he's getting the good junk and doesn't seem to be in any particular pain yet. We're hoping to keep that the state of affairs for as long as possible.

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I'm glad people are enjoying the article, too--and glad to know that I'm not coming across as a complete lunatic. Always a comforting feeling.

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500 words yesterday on Kekropia. More words today, plus working out the scene-order of the chapter. It's very weird to keep realizing that this is the second to last chapter, that I'm really very close to being done. Much of my brain is suspicious that this is a trap.

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So, I've fallen in love. With a piano.

( the whole sordid story )