I stayed home last night. I had an invite to a party – a small one, just how I like my parties – but the battle between my immune system and a cold virus left me desiring something more alone, just me, lots of liquid (I feel so dry!), and tissues. This was a good call because around 8 PM the cold transitioned from annoying to disgusting and I’m now slimy and wheezy and gross. (The cold is progressing at a confusing rate. Phases that usually last a day are lasting a week. It’s weird. Either the virus and immune system are both seriously apathetic about it all, or there is an epic battle that hovers near a stalemate, though the virus clearly took the edge last night. If the pace continues at the same rate, I’m going to be sick for months. I really don’t want that.)

Though I really wanted to sleep, I insisted I stay up until midnight. Part of me says the changing of the year is an arbitrary date on an arbitrary calendar, and midnight even comes at an arbitrary time. It would at least make more sense to tie everything to the rotation and tumble of the Earth as related to the sun (you know, something like sunset or sunrise on the solstice). But then that even seems arbitrary as we orbit an insignificant star in an insignificant galaxy. That leads to thoughts about the arbitrary nature of the universe itself. That’s the melodramatic, depressed part of me, the part that keeps me awake at night with terrifying thoughts about eternity. (Highly recommended relevant read: A Short Stay in Hell by Steven Peck.)

Another part of me – a part more practical and peaceful – says sure, it’s arbitrary, but it is how we mark the passage of time. It gives meaning and structure to our lives, as do all commemorations and celebrations. Such things tie us to others and to our memories, unifying us in the web of our cultures and families. Embrace the arbitrary and find the joy in the tradition and structure.

So I stayed up watching Doctor Who. And I welcomed 2013. And then I went to bed. (And then didn’t sleep all that well due to the lack of breathing. So obnoxious.)

I traditionally roll my eyes at making resolutions at the turning of the year. Hardly anyone keeps them, thus rendering the exercise pointless. Goals, of course, are good, but there’s something about January 1st that just makes the exercise obnoxious. Nevertheless, I want to participate this year. Maybe it’s the battle between the virus and my immune system messing with my brain. (Yeah. Yeah, we’ll go with that.)

1. Take an iron pill every day. (Note: If iron levels are still too low to donate blood at the February blood drive, accept that it’s just not going to happen – for that will be the third attempt – and ditch the pills. If iron levels are acceptable, stick with it and donate every couple of months.)

2. Read scriptures every day.

3. Read at least 30 books. (I track such things on Goodreads.)

4. Eat more vegetables.

5. Take more photos.