A brand new year has begun. The first in a brand new decade of what was, not too long ago a new millennium (and needless to say, century). Everything's pretty new, and is the usual pathos in this, it represents brand new beginnings and hope and all that. But, of course, it doesn't. It's another day which will be followed by another day the day after it, until we reach the end of the year which is full of reminiscence and then the eventual new beginning.       Everything ends, and everything begins again, but only if you choose to see it. That's not to say that the end of the year isn't something worth celebrating. 

There's a lot of things I want to get right this year, which I didn't quite seem to get last year. I'm not going to write up any resolutions, mainly because I haven't thought of any. It's going to be the usual mix of things, though: get that Wanderer comic off the ground, finish writing things, write new things, draw more, and, hell, why not even start a film or an animated piece while I'm at it. 

Remember way back when in my eager stages of planning for bits of life that wouldn't happen for years and years and years? It's all still happening. Nothing's ended, nor begun. I'm still running around in circles trying to find decent plots for these three stories. If life in Sheffield proves to be as excellent as it's been lately, I'm pretty sure I can see a really good year ahead of me. 

I wonder if Fool Face Reilly got my New Year's text

I'm listening to my "sounds of 2009" playlist which I just created, which instead of being good music from 2009, it's music I listened to a shitload in 2009, which includes undoubtedly, the musical genius and lyrical mastery of Amanda Palmer and Dresden Dolls. Mr Children's Home album and their B-Sides compilation album have certainly awarded themselves a place in this (as well as all their other songs I have), as have AC Newman, Coeur de Pirate, and Regina Spektor.     It's a pretty good playlist.

I'm going to end this entry with this benediction from my author idol, Neil Gaiman, because everything I've tried to write has sounded really forced and unbelievably cheesy:

"May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art - write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. May your coming year be a wonderful thing in which you dream both dangerously and outrageously.

"I hope it'll make something that didn't exist before you made it, that you will be loved and you will be liked and you will have people to love and to like in return. And most importantly, because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now - I hope that you will, when you need to be, be wise and that you will always be kind. And I hope that somewhere in the next year you surprise yourself."

Happy New Year, everyone. I hope it's a great one.