January 2, 1999.

In honour of the second day of the new year, I'm spending the bulk of the day in my ophelia nightgown. Sunflower seeds and Diet Coke shall be my food, and old fantasy novels and the internet will be my entertainment. And there was much rejoicing.

Just thought you'd like to know.

Well, don't I feel like a jerk.

It's always a humbling experience to be talking about a party to a friend and by doing so make them feel rejected. I should know; I've been on the action-end of that particular stick many times. To wield it unknowing...I just feel like a jerk, thass all.

One of the greatest things about vacations is that they allow me the leisure to dream. I rarely dream anything that I remember when I have to think immediately of responsibilities upon waking. Especially around exams - some days I get depressed as soon as I get up, just thinking about the stuff ahead of me. A childish reaction, I know, but what depression can be reasoned with?

Last night I dreamt of beautiful inexpensive corsets, an old flame from high-school (who wore the hair-and-complexion colour scheme of Q, oddly enough), dancing and the really cool Siren that only exists in my subconscious...the Siren of snakes and computers and friendly, unpretentious people. Fantasy land, that.

On New Years Eve, I actually dreamt on the meta-level...to paraphrase Zhuong-zi, I didn't know if I was a girl dreaming of being a video game character or a video game character dreaming of being a girl on New Years Eve. Pretty good for only one REM cycle, if I do say so myself.

And now to the laundry list of my recent activities. Please, stop salivating wildly; you'll short out your keyboards.

As always, New Year's Eve brought with it a host of seldom-seen faces and half-remembered events. Up until 24 hours prior to the year change, I'd had no plans whatsoever. The Boy had expressed the desire to spend the night drinking quietly in my Toronto grotto, but the idea didn't quite do it for me. Plenty of time to spend the New Year alone together when Y2K plunges the earth into a second Dark Age, you know. So when Morgan called to invite us up North to spend a quiet night with herself, her 5 year old Michael, Little Spider, the Maxx and Violet (the Cutest Puppy on the Face of the Earth), it seemed heaven-sent. Too small to qualify as a house party, yet filled with the opportunity to socialize in the last year of civilization - ahem - well, it sounded perfect.

And it was. We dragged the Boy's best friend Exodus along with us, and despite the late arrival of Morgan's soon-to-be-ex-husband and his friend (which threw off the boy-girl ratio and raised some unpleasant issues for Little Spider & myself, since we didn't really want to be nice to the SOB), the gathering remained intimate and relaxed. Most of the night was spent drinking, talking, and playing with Violet, who's 2 months old and a party in herself. It was the first time in 5 years that I only kissed one person the entire night (a statement which is meant to describe the excitement level and not draw attention to the fact that I'm an incorrigible flirt.) I had felt slightly apprehensive about bringing Exodus into a roomful of strangers, both for his sake and my own - in the last couple of weeks, we seem to have defined our relationship as one of antipathies. He represents hockey and Xena Warrior Princess in the life of the Boy, while I take less than no interest in such things. But all was well.

Didn't sleep a wink the whole night, which played havoc with my cold...by 7 a.m. I was miserable enough to wear out all symptoms and actually fall asleep soon after. One REM cycle later, we gathered for Kraft Dinner and hangover discussions. Oddly enough, no one was really hurting...but then, no one had been shockingly drunk the night before. We're all growing too old and wise for our own goods, I often think. Sleep dep left me feeling extremely physically susceptible, as it always does, and if someone had given me a backrub, I prolly would have pledged myself as their slave for the rest of eternity.

But lacking such an opportunity, we eventually wended our way home, to year-end specials and living rooms undominated by puppies and 5 year olds. Life is good.