Farewell to the Year of the Unlucky Number–which paradoxically was a heck of a lot better for me than 2012 ever was, so make of that what you will. And to you all, a very belated Chanukah, a mid-stream Merry Christmas (day 7 of 12), and a really rather early Happy New Year 2015.
If you’ve wondered where I’ve been—well, I’ve been sick, honestly. And writing scintillating, sparkling, wonderful blog posts was beyond me as I huddled around, feeling rubbish. As was writing dull, grumpy, turgid, uninteresting blog posts, for that matter.
But this is not a confession of blog-guilt. Nor even a New Year’s Resolution to blog more (which would be the quickest way, I think, to ensure never blogging again). Like the great John McIntyre, I’ve embraced a policy of not blogging unless I have something I want to say. And I usually do, in that sunny, cheery, talkative way I have (“Ha,” say his colleagues, and “Who?” ask his friends). And if this blog has been overly taciturn, blame it chiefly on my increased distaste for wittering, on and offline, and the uncertainty that comes with age that one’s own opinions are really as great as all that. Continue reading
I just wrote a post for Unsettling Wonder that featured Jane Yolen’s comment on my previous blog post here. If that sounds convoluted here’s the link that explains everything. It has more of my thoughts about mythic arts in. And, more importantly, features Jane Yolen being insightful and eloquent. So you probably want to go read that.
But before you go, let me bid you l’shanah tovah and give you warmest wishes and every blessing for the New Year. And speaking of people being eloquent, here’s Barack Obama offering his own good wishes for the holiday and the year ahead. Well worth your while watching this.
I can’t help but notice that the president looks nearly as exhausted as Neil Gaiman at the end of a signing tour. But it’s a beautiful speech for all that—a much needed and very welcome message of hope.
Happy National Grammar Day! It’s a holiday today, depending on what part of the world you’re in. Depending on your frame of mind, you can use punctilious grammar all day today. Or you can find a grammar rule and break it.
Regardless, we urge all those who delight in the celebration of grammar to keep in mind John McIntyre’s admonition not to ‘correct people’s grammar or pronunciation publicly,’ and to ‘learn [Ed. note: or invent] a new word every chance you get’ (see the heading above). And we join McIntyre in imploring you to ‘Honor and esteem people like Ben Zimmer and Jan Freeman and Mignon Fogarty and the merry band at Language Log and all the others who write about English with intelligence, affection, and force.’
Now, the sad news.
February 26 was Tell A Fairy Tale Day, and I missed it. I think I was asleep. Blog Fail. The only remedy is for you all to tell someone a fairy tale today.
Tell someone a fairy tale on National Grammar Day. It’s a beautiful thing.
A wonderful Sabbath to you all.
Happy Christmas to you from all us here at Paradoxes.
And all of you.
Happy Christmas to you from you from me.
The Paradoxes of Mr. Pond: making everyone’s life considerably more confusing since whenever it was I started writing this thing.
This, as the title boasts, is a beginning.
More precisely, it’s the beginning of my Christmas Holiday. (Or Winter Vacation, if we want to go all retro-90s, and enjoy some good ol’ fashioned political correctness.)
I’m taking the next while off from work and just about everything else*, to enjoy the holiday with family and good books.
Don’t worry, I’ve not abandoned the blogosphere, but as you other bloggers know—vacation ain’t really vacation if the blog tags along. Though I may put in some desultory appearances at the Hog’s Head—always a fun place to hang out around Christmas.
Posting here the rest of the week will be *nearly* nonexistent; between now and New Year’s (Western Calendar Change Day?) it will be sporadic and best. Your comments will still appear in my inbox, too.
Regular posting should begin after Epiphany.
Happy Christmas to you, and Blessed Holiday whatever you keep, whether you remember with fondness or look forward with anticipation.