this is halloween, everybody make a scene
today felt so good outside. it was still 80+ degrees, but it felt so much cooler than 94, and with the breeze, the smells of autumn could almost be detected. too bad this wicked headache spoiled (and is spoiling) the rest of the evening.
michael's has begun to put out its halloween collection, and although i wasn't impressed last year and am so far not impressed this year, the martha stewart collection never fails to please and inspire. i wish we had enough time and resources to have a party this year, but alas, we don't. so i think we should pull a halloween town and plan for halloween all year in order to have the awesome party we want next year. i want to make it a tradition, to have people ask us if we are going to throw one because last year's was so fun.
david has moved on from his desire to be voldemort to a new desire to dress up like the joker. which coincides with my long-standing desire to be poison ivy, or even harley quinn if need be. the baby could be a poisonous potted plant or a scary little clown.
i still remember past halloweens as a kid. there was the pumpkin costume, which was about the size of a real pumpkin. i think both me and my brother had to suffer that costume. once i was the queen of hearts, but we found no candy in my grandmother's neighborhood of old retirees. another autumn my cousin and i found the riding cloak my mother made when she was in college. it was black and swirled in the most perfect way. my cousin and i would take turns wearing it, dancing down the darkened road despite the lack of candy-filled houses. when she moved, my grandmother got rid of that cloak, believing no one wanted it.
my own neighborhood was also devoid of trick-or-treat acceptance. so most years my mother took us to my after school care church for a fun and safe (and sometimes lame) time. i'd always be a witch or a gypsy. funny how the outfit often consisted of the same skirts and jewelry. there'd be bobbing for apples and toss the beanbag in the clown's mouth, but there was always a darker side. since most of the rooms were connected by inner doors, a haunted house was set up. it never failed to scare me, especially when the zombie rose from the real--not plywood or cardboard--coffin. then outside next to the far field, a path led into the woods. from there a guide would lead us through the darkened trees, his flashlight the only source of illumination. he would weave a tale of how a car had lost its way and crashed into the woods. soon, we'd see a real car crumpled around a tree. then he'd explain how the survivors were attacked by a crazed maniac wielding a chainsaw. all of a sudden, we'd hear the loud BRAWWWW of a chainsaw, and somehow the same maniac would jump from behind a tree. (of course, my child's imagination remembers him jumping *down* from the tree.) even the toughest and bravest would squeal and turn heel, fighting each other to be the first out into the clearing.
in high school, we were too old for trick-or-treating--and too young to enjoy adult costume parties. we fought it anyway, dressing up and heading out into the neighborhoods to gather what we could. usually it was half a pillowcase full, which was so much compared to my handfuls during childhood. i was lestat in the ninth grade. looking back, the costume was rediculous and laughable, but i felt so powerful while i was wearing it. i felt like a part of the night, like i could steal away at a moment's notice and make my desires a reality.
after college, the whole costume thing faded and turned into more of a home decor fetish. my house is eternally decorated for halloween. when a new season comes, i look for what will only become another spooky trinket to grace my shelves or walls. right now i have my eye on a bust of medusa at michael's. one side is a beautiful medusa, and the other is her wicked side. very apt for protecting the home, i must say.
in the years to come, i want to start my tradition of a halloween costume party, which i hope (should i be fortunate enough to have a big house) would turn into a sort of masquerade. i think halloween is elegant in its pagan pageantry. it has rustic and mystic roots, true, but i also love the beauty of it. for one night you are someone else. for one night you can confuse your demons and enjoy a night of freedom.
halloween creates epic freedom from your fears by embracing your fears. that is my philosophy for today. good night.
michael's has begun to put out its halloween collection, and although i wasn't impressed last year and am so far not impressed this year, the martha stewart collection never fails to please and inspire. i wish we had enough time and resources to have a party this year, but alas, we don't. so i think we should pull a halloween town and plan for halloween all year in order to have the awesome party we want next year. i want to make it a tradition, to have people ask us if we are going to throw one because last year's was so fun.
david has moved on from his desire to be voldemort to a new desire to dress up like the joker. which coincides with my long-standing desire to be poison ivy, or even harley quinn if need be. the baby could be a poisonous potted plant or a scary little clown.
i still remember past halloweens as a kid. there was the pumpkin costume, which was about the size of a real pumpkin. i think both me and my brother had to suffer that costume. once i was the queen of hearts, but we found no candy in my grandmother's neighborhood of old retirees. another autumn my cousin and i found the riding cloak my mother made when she was in college. it was black and swirled in the most perfect way. my cousin and i would take turns wearing it, dancing down the darkened road despite the lack of candy-filled houses. when she moved, my grandmother got rid of that cloak, believing no one wanted it.
my own neighborhood was also devoid of trick-or-treat acceptance. so most years my mother took us to my after school care church for a fun and safe (and sometimes lame) time. i'd always be a witch or a gypsy. funny how the outfit often consisted of the same skirts and jewelry. there'd be bobbing for apples and toss the beanbag in the clown's mouth, but there was always a darker side. since most of the rooms were connected by inner doors, a haunted house was set up. it never failed to scare me, especially when the zombie rose from the real--not plywood or cardboard--coffin. then outside next to the far field, a path led into the woods. from there a guide would lead us through the darkened trees, his flashlight the only source of illumination. he would weave a tale of how a car had lost its way and crashed into the woods. soon, we'd see a real car crumpled around a tree. then he'd explain how the survivors were attacked by a crazed maniac wielding a chainsaw. all of a sudden, we'd hear the loud BRAWWWW of a chainsaw, and somehow the same maniac would jump from behind a tree. (of course, my child's imagination remembers him jumping *down* from the tree.) even the toughest and bravest would squeal and turn heel, fighting each other to be the first out into the clearing.
in high school, we were too old for trick-or-treating--and too young to enjoy adult costume parties. we fought it anyway, dressing up and heading out into the neighborhoods to gather what we could. usually it was half a pillowcase full, which was so much compared to my handfuls during childhood. i was lestat in the ninth grade. looking back, the costume was rediculous and laughable, but i felt so powerful while i was wearing it. i felt like a part of the night, like i could steal away at a moment's notice and make my desires a reality.
after college, the whole costume thing faded and turned into more of a home decor fetish. my house is eternally decorated for halloween. when a new season comes, i look for what will only become another spooky trinket to grace my shelves or walls. right now i have my eye on a bust of medusa at michael's. one side is a beautiful medusa, and the other is her wicked side. very apt for protecting the home, i must say.
in the years to come, i want to start my tradition of a halloween costume party, which i hope (should i be fortunate enough to have a big house) would turn into a sort of masquerade. i think halloween is elegant in its pagan pageantry. it has rustic and mystic roots, true, but i also love the beauty of it. for one night you are someone else. for one night you can confuse your demons and enjoy a night of freedom.
halloween creates epic freedom from your fears by embracing your fears. that is my philosophy for today. good night.