Watching: An MTV preview of independent summer films, including The Blair Witch Project, which looks like it is one of the scariest movies ever made. The movie web site tells the backstory and the aftermath of the events in the film.

Another good link is the filmmakers' Haxan site, which has lots of cool stuff about the making of the movie itself, including the trailer (scary!), clips, discussion boards, and the hidden journal. Those who want to be completely surprised by TBWP, probably shouldn't poke around too much at the latter site as there are spoilers there, particularly in Heather's journal.

Writing Into the Void

"So, what did you think of my list?"

"I thought it was self-indulgent."

Tab's words surprise me into sudden silence. The only sounds I hear are the splash of water in the wading pool, the boys' laughter, and a siren in the distance. I have the three boys out back on this hot day, and I'm sitting in the shade of the porch, a thermos of cool water on the table in front of me, the cordless phone pressed to my ear.

I end the phone call very soon after that exchange, virtually hanging up on Tab. I spend the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon brooding about the conversation and trying to understand why his words hurt me.

I think it was because that list meant something more to me than a simple journal entry. As a wife and mother I spend so much time tending to the needs and desires of others, it is hard for me to remember sometimes that I have wants, too, and that it is OK for me to express them. Though Tab probably didn't intend to do so, his casually dismissive words made me feel as though I am not supposed to want anything, or if I do, I'm not supposed to say it.

I had fun writing that entry. I spent nearly every idle moment of the day thinking about what I would like to have if I could have anything. I came up with a list of the impossible and the possible, material things and intangible desires. I was proud of the result because it represented my uniqueness and communicated a part of my personality I rarely express.

Later on I called Tab and tried to explain why I was upset. He still didn't seem to understand. He told me he would no longer comment on my journal entries since "you'll get upset if you don't like what I have to say."

I told him that was not true. If he had said, for instance, that some other entry needed more work or was not very interesting, I would have listened objectively, re-read the entry in question to see if his points were valid, and then perhaps have rewritten it I decided he was right. This one was different, however. It was close to my heart.

The inescapable thought going through my head all day was: He doesn't understand.

It upsets me that he didn't get it. It makes me wonder if I'm just kidding myself about being a halfway decent writer. If my own husband, the one who supposedly loves me more than anyone else in the world, didn't understand what I was doing in that entry, would anyone else?

What do you think?

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