snow & specters

It's snowed so much that it's hard to distinguish the street outside.

Mmmmmnnn, a specter is haunting me tonight, one borne of fictional representations floating close to my nonfictional realities. I hate the television, and the feel-good movies from the late '90s that Christmastime spurs.

When when when will I be over the metaphorical hump? I feel like I sat down to rest near the top of a mountain, got frozen, and now I occasionally thaw long enough to trip on a branch and roll back down to the bottom. When I get near the top again, I sit on the same log and refreeze. And it's the bad side of the mountain. The one that gets all the rain; the windward side. That's another thing--all that wind.

That's officially the weirdest metaphor of the year, but it feels pretty accurate. It might make sense to the people that know me.

And now I have to know that I wrote about it. I blow too much thought on this crap.

I hope it snows so much the street IS indistinguishable. And people are stuck at home with their canned vegetables and each other. And the power goes out. And they light candles and talk.