the ghost in the house that you never see

i am the ghost that haunts this house, the house you pass everyday. sometimes you see the house, sometimes you don't, but i know you never see me. the house is scary, but it's not because i'm in it. it's because it's old and a bit different. sometimes the windows rattle, but that's just the wind, and the creaking floor is merely the house settling. i am a ghost. i can't touch you (God knows how many times i've wished i could...), why would you think i could touch the house? if only i could move things, if only i were real to anything, even this old house... to say i "haunt" misleads, i am a prisoner here: silent, powerless, and completely invisible. if anyone is haunted, it is me. haunted by my own existence, a self-haunted ghost, pathetically alone in this house, in this world full of houses that are full of smiling, happy people, people like you. my thoughts are my only voice, and they are endless echoes in my mind. i dimly remember there were once other voices, but all i hear now are the sounds of the house and the bothersome noise of my own thoughts. yet not thinking is worse, because then everything is silent, and there is just the overwhelming feeling of raw existence. through the windows, i see you on the street as you pass each day. but you never see me. at most, you see the house: rundown and deserted, no potential, just a bit of an oddity, an eyesore, at best. and then, undoubtedly, you forget, as you walk away into your day. you are gone so quickly, i sometimes think that perhaps i only imagine you. during those times, i spend the rest of the day and all of the night wondering if i am insane. perhaps you are merely a delusion and there is no one else, no one but me in all this world, and i am trapped in this house. and then, the next day, without fail, you appear again. and i wonder, maybe you are haunting me? perhaps you are the ghost and that bright world beyond these windows is actually the haunted house, and this "house" where i am, maybe it is the only place outside of your haunt, the only place i can be safe. then again, maybe i am completely wrong. maybe i am not haunting, and maybe i am not haunted. maybe i'm just damned. and this house, this world, maybe this is all just hell... maybe, but now i see you coming up the walk, and for a few moments, i will be distracted, distracted by your beauty and half-remembered feelings of... of what? hope? life? friends and family that i cannot remember but who surely must have existed? and then you will be gone again, as always, and the thoughts will rush back in and flood my self and i will remember: i am a ghost, i am haunted, i am damned...

Blizzard of '11

Lots of snow, some ice. Two days off work, one day snowed in because my parking lot wasn't dug out. Drove during the snow coming down bits and walked in the post-snowing drifts. All in all, not as much fun as I remember from blizzards as a kid.

Am I really talking about the weather in this blog? I need to retire...