Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

I have slowly been getting rid of papers I don't need anymore, where "slowly" includes going through some stuff and then stopping for long periods. Last weekend I was talking about this, and some of what I had done recently, and that I had hit an entire box full of old letters, and hadn't even taken a deep breath and checked whether it was that or another ten years of extremely out of date bank statements.

papersky started to offer me advice/support about not needing to keep so many old things, and I explained that I knew this already and being told again didn't help. But it turns out not to have hurt, either. With a few days more time between me and opening that box; the desire to stay in the air conditioning today; and an attitude-shifting post from green_knight, I took another stab at it. Green_knight's suggestion (which wasn't intended as such, she was posting about her own current decluttering) is not to set any goal of how much to get rid of or how much will be left, but to think in terms of looking at things, with "decide later" as explicitly allowed, and counting any amount > 0 of things gotten rid of as an achievement, rather than having to get rid of at least a certain amount to count the project as successful.

I didn't open most of the envelopes, just looked at who they were from. I kept a bunch of letters from my best friend from high school, who I hadn't even thought of in years, and threw away everything from other people I knew in high school. I saved a few letters from my grandparents, a couple from someone I dated in college, and a few others. A lot of other people's letters, I didn't feel the need to keep: I hadn't so much made a deliberate decision back in the 1980s, as thrown a lot of things into a box. (Mostly it's letters from specific people, but I also found a grade report for a college course I took my senior year of high school; I thought briefly about hanging onto that and then remembered that I have my B.A., so transfer credits don't matter.) The startling thing wasn't the random "why do I have a postcard from this person?" but "who is this person who I keep finding letters from?" Names that ring no bell at all, but apparently 25 years ago we corresponded regularly enough that I've got a dozen envelopes with their return address.

At some point I may look at the letters I kept; for now, it's enough to know that I have these. But right now, a third of a shoebox full seems to be enough, at least from that epoch. (Maybe I'll flip through the stack of fanzine letters of comment on the bookshelf and try consolidating.)

We are now back on standard time. I slept very well last night, though I'm not sure how much that had to do with the time-change: the clock said 9:15 when I woke, meaning I'd slept about ten hours, and it was a good, smooth ten (the night before I was restless, and hence did not sleep enough). Right now I'm at the point of feeling that things are vaguely off, because what the clock says doesn't match what my body is feeling.

I did a bit of balance and other exercise earlier. When did I turn into someone who feels odd if she doesn't exercise at least a little every day unless she's traveling? (My usual walking doesn't count, apparently.) Not that I never exercise on the road, but I don't feel the same need. (Though it may depend on the shape of travel; I'll tend to do a little when I'm visiting adrian_turtle, but not at Wiscon.)

I just tried out Twinings' lemon-and-ginger herb tea, which sounded very promising. It smelled promising. It tasted quite bland; with some honey it tasted mostly of honey. I am going to try brewing it a little longer, and with less water to the teabag, next time: the flavor wasn't bad, just weak.

Today's Newsday carried an Associated Press obituary of a Confederate widow, 133 years after the American Civil War ended. The Web tells me that the last Union widow died in her log cabin in 2003. I put it that way only because the obituary in today's paper noted that this woman only talked to the press after reading a story claiming that someone else who had died was the last living Confederate widow; Janeway may not have been the last Union widow, though if so, any left appear to be keeping quiet.

More collected comments: ( visual symbolism and 9/11, perception of hostility online, tiptree award and fanfic, maybe I shouldn't answer certain questions,class, not wasting time )

Daylight Saving Time begins tomorrow at 1 a.m./2 a.m. local time in most of Canada and the United States.

Daylight Saving Time is not observed in Hawaii, American Samoa, Guam, Puerto Rico, the U.S. Virgin Islands, or the state of Arizona (with the exception of the Navajo Indian Reservation, which does observe DST). Note that Indiana has changed policy and now observes DST. ("Observe" is the terminology used over at www.time.gov, which gave me that list of exceptions.) If you're not in Indiana, your computer clocks will probably take care of themselves; if you're in Indiana and haven't reset your timezone or applied relevant system patches, your computer may need to be told the new time.

According to the CBC, which I think I trust, the areas in Canada that don't use Daylight Saving Time are Quebec east of 63°, most of Saskatchewan, and "small pockets of Ontario and British Columbia." (Note that this CBC page's information on Indiana is out of date.)

I don't do New Year's resolutions: for me, they feel artificial and ineffective. (This is a statement like "I don't eat peanut butter", not intended to generalize beyond the speaker.)

Thus, I'm also not going to be answering the "what do you want from $poster in 2006" meme. Well, that and because it feels presumptuous and/or at the wrong level. For the most part, what I want from my friends in 2006 is what I wanted from them in 2005: that's how friendship works for me. I may want or need specific things from people--either specific people, or my friends as a group--and some of those needs may be in 2006, but they're not predictable. I'm not planning a wedding or the birth or adoption of a child or a graduation, a significant event that can be predicted in advance.