December 3
 
 
 
 

It's weird to feel like I have writers block, when all I ever write is this journal.  Maybe what I have isn't so much writer's block as it is life block.  I feel kind of like I'm looking at the world from behind a fence I can only just see over, and I'm tired of jumping up to get a better view because to be honest, the view isn't all that hot.  This time of year always gets to me because of my well documented hatred of winter, and yet, I live in New England and will for the long haul.  There's a bone chilling wind and when I went to my car this morning, I noticed that the tree over my driveway was filled with garbage bags that were caught in the empty branches.  A garbage bag tree.  Very nice.

I don't want to say that I want to quit writing this journal, but at the same time I feel so unrelentingly... neutral about everything, I'm finding it hard to imagine  having anything to write about my life in the forseeable future.  Gah.

I think you all also know about my irrational fear of blimps, right?  Last night, I dreamed that I was standing in what seemed to be a large schoolyard on a windy summer day, and off, a few blocks away was a blimp.  It was being blown around dumbly (how else would you describe a blimp, other than dumb?) and in real time (inasmuch as dream time can be considered real) a news report was broadcasting over some loudspeaker.  The report was reporting (what else would a report do?) that the very windy conditions were bad for blimp piloting, and with those words I looked up to see the blimp was setting down on the ground.  Not really crashing, but definitely NOT landing gracefully.  I remember kind of screaming, a big old weird irrational blimp scream as I stared at it it, quivery and huge not three feet away from me.

I tried to get past it without it touching me but with the way it filled up the schoolyard, it was impossible.  I backed myself up against the wall and squeezed past, with the gross, springy blimp sort of being ALL OVER ME. It was made of what felt like lycra (though, honestly, I don't know OR CARE what a blimp is really made of) and the part (basket? bucket?) where the blimp pilot sits was all smashed up into the body of the blimp because there WAS no pilot.

Of course, because you're all rational people, you aren't afraid of blimps, so this dream isn't even a little horrible.  Maybe it's even funny. Maybe you're a dream interpreter and you can have a field day with the symbolism.  Whatever.  Blimps are horrible, and it's perhaps the only good thing about winter is that there aren't any blimps.

Another weird obsession I have is with plane crashes. (Pretend this entry isn't just about as random as random gets)  I mention this because the thing I'm most obsessed with about plane crashes is when I see photos of planes ditched into water.  I feel about that the way I feel about blimps.  There's something so eerie and WRONG about them that they scare the shit out of me (but, with a plane, I'm fascinated and can't really look away).  Oh, and while I'm thinking about it, I'm also creeped out by planes very low to the ground.  Some might say I have issues...
 

 

Explain to me how you could go to this beach and relax?  That shit is just WAITING to fall onto you.  Seriously.  Despite the beautiful setting, there's not a thing in the world that would get me there.  Okay, I'm totally lying. I would go.  How could I not?  But STILL.
 
 

That's CREEPY!!! They float there.  All big and busted and silent.  Can you imagine driving PAST THAT every day on your way to work?  They make my skin crawl.
 

(Note:  All photos taken from this site.  Please don't sue me, if you're the owner of the photos.  I'm only trying to prove to the world that airplanes in water are a giant anomaly.  Because they are.)
 

So there you go. An entry I'm sure to look back on with HORROR, but also, a bit of OH YEAH!!!
 
 
 
 

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