2010 feels old and worn in. Comfortable.

I can remember New Years where I have moved around slowly, getting used to the feel and the taste of the new year, because it actually is different. There's something palpable about the new year - the fresh slate, the filed past, and the vast expanse of 365 days between now and the next benchmark.

New Year's Eve is easily my least favorite holiday. I believe I was saying something to that effect this morning. I don't mind hanging out with some people on New Year's Eve. I really don't. It's nice to be with people you love. But at the end of the day (literally), when that giant disco ball comes to rest on the four numbers that will define the next year, I don't want to be with anyone but family.

I like the way my family does New Year's Eve. We never have parties and rarely go to parties and at the parties we do attend, we leave before midnight. We usually make something up - dip for chips, occasionally those mini hot dogs (which, ick?), maybe leftover Christmas cookies.

We sit on the couch around 11:55 and flip between the channels covering Times Square, because Ryan Seacrest is lame and the performers are less than stellar, and we watch, without much excitement, the demise of that ball. We watch the confetti, we watch all of the people wildly kissing, and we look at each other and confirm that we are all thankful that we are not, in fact, at Times Square, and we reaffirm that we do not, in fact, ever want to be at Times Square on New Year's Eve.

Then we have some sparkling grape juice or whatever Wegmans had, we have it in the crystal goblets - is goblet quite the right term? They're not wineglasses, they're not the right shape, but they have stems and everything - and everyone clinks glasses with everyone else and drinks.

Then we go to bed. There is no real celebration, just an acknowledgment that yes, more time has passed, and yes, we're aware of it. It sort of makes me feel for all those other midnights that we don't pay any attention to... Christmas night, for instance, when the holiday is officially over but no one bothers to notice. Or Christmas Eve and its seamless transition into Christmas.

Most of all, though, imminent change, which comes with passing time, is not my favorite and I have never loved the holiday dedicated to passing time. Why wish it away? I'm 21 years old. I'm not in a hurry to be any older.

I have now made hummus twice. It's not really bona fide hummus, but it tastes like summer to me (I know, I know, why make it in the winter then? Well, I'll tell you - hummus always appeals to me), probably because of the copious lemon we use. The first time, I was zesting the lemon and managed to zest my left pinky.

I think of it every time I brush a finger over the divot in my fingernail. I yelped and took a look at it immediately, while Mom said, "don't get any blood in the hummus" quite calmly. There wasn't much blood, and I did make sure that none of my skin was in the hummus either, but I suppose I can't make that promise about my fingernail. A little keratin never hurt anyone, I guess.

Been catching up on television. Sports Night is excellent - it's so good! - but I am tired of Dana's heart being constantly broken. I just don't understand! I thought I might try to finish up Lost before the end of break, just to have those loose ends tied up. Even though I'm not really that invested, for some reason I cannot bring myself to read about the completion of the series (and Wikipedia has tempted. It tempts! It tempts!).

Watched Inception last night - Jon wanted it, and Laura bought it for him for Christmas. Just watched Despicable Me, and it was just as adorable as I'd heard. Plus the giggling of the minions was certainly contagious.

Mmm-mmm. I feel like I had more to say, but it turns out I don't, so I guess I'm out.