This is the big ticket item I bought at ECCC: a gold bodice jacket thing for $150. It is a little hard to tell but it’s got tonal roses textured on it and it’s pretty and gold and i LOVE EET! I have this crazy red peplum corset thing but my boobs are waaaay too big and I got waaaay too fat for it like YEARS ago. But the fabulous skirt my friend Regan made from my designs - I sewed on the ribbon and bobble trims, though. And the purple floofy shirt was a proper renfaire purchase. Now all I need to complete my outfit are some ribbony cuff things for my sleeves (with hidden pockets maybe?) and some pouchy pocket things for each of my hips and a belt. And shoes, but, well. Anyway, FABULOUS OUTFIT ACQUIRED. As you can see, I am a model.

I FINALLY HAVE BLUE JELLO

I don’t think you understand.

When I was in the deepest throes of Merlin fic reading & writing, I’d get cravings for chicken. Which is pretty normal so I didn’t really notice it except that I’d ALSO really want stew, like, every day I’d go “you know? stew sounds great right now.” and sometimes I’d make it and sometimes I wouldn’t but still. Stew. I’d also taken to eating GRAPES, which is VERY atypical of me. I am not a grape fan. I also at one point had read up on so many recipes from the middle ages that I started putting some cloves and shit in sauces for my chicken. It was all very subliminal.

Then I had my month of Sherlock madness, during which I consumed actual entire loaves of toast with butter and jam, and went through more tea than I normally do. This is remarkable because I go through a hell of a lot of tea. I understood at that point that I was fulfilling the cravings I was getting by glutting myself with fic in which the characters are always going on and on about particular foodstuffs. But, I mean, toast is delicious, so no big deal.

Then we watched Stargate: Atlantis and I relented and eventually started reading the fic. And I remember way back when I dived into SG-1 fandom I did, in fact, get a small yen for blue jello, because hello, METAPHORS. But I’ve ALWAYS liked red jello the most. Strawberry, bitches! Blue jello is okay but if ever given the choice I’d normally always go for the red. MAYBE even green before blue.

There aren’t THAT many mentions of blue jello in SGA fic. Normally if Sam is involved, there’s one here or there, and sometimes there are cute tangents in Rodney’s PoV about liking blue jello and liking Sam in similar ways, extending the metaphor. But apparently the symbol, for me, is SO DAMN STRONG, that I remembered the blue jello thing and have been CRAVING it like a motherfucker for a month.

We have a box of red jello in the pantry I bought like a year ago and haven’t touched. I live on top of an organic hippy dippy amazing grocery store, so to buy jello is actually an expedition out into the wilds of the places in Seattle where real people live, and you never know, maybe one day I might NEED RED JELLO TO LIVE or something so I grabbed a box and it sat there, untouched.

I knew I wanted blue jello. I knew I had red jello. Yet I did not make the red jello. It seemed WRONG. WRONG! It had to be blue. But I don’t go out to places with normal grocery stores. Hell, I don’t go out to places. I harassed my BFF, who drives out and around the city multiple times a week to go to sundry activities, to get blue jello for me. I’d send him an email like “Subject: BLUE JELLO” with the content blank, or “every moment I don’t have blue jello is a moment I could be eating blue jello” and finally, FINALLY!!!!! I remembered to bug him about it early enough on his jaunts that he actually remembered and came home and pretty much THREW THE BOX OF BLUE JELLO AT MY FACE. Okay actually he plunked the box down on the counter really heavily but my BFF is the antithesis of demonstrative in his emotions so trust me, it was equivalent to face-throwing.

Anyway. I have blue jello now. It is jiggly. All is right with the world.

That’s the thing about fandom foods. The Stargate verse is actually very LACKING in foodporn, as compared to other fandoms I frequent. It’s the military bent, I suppose. I don’t get cravings for MREs or powerbars. And when I was all up ins iCarly, I never once considered ACTUALLY eating a spaghetti taco. So I guess that despite my roaming appetites, I have reasonable limits. I’m not gonna go half-cocked and start only eating plomeek soup and earl grey when Star Trek gets back to being a proper fandom. I can rest easy.

As long as sometimes I have blue jello.

Oh it’s Groundhog Day!

:( I am always torn about Groundhog Day and have been since I was about 8 years old - I think my reasons are excellently indicative of my general lifelong mindset:

On the one hand, I’ve always wished that one of these years we could magically have Spring be right around the corner because by god I HATE winter! and groundhogs are cute and the idea of a whole town and a good portion of the US indulging in the collective fantasy of a weather-predicting groundhog for the sake of harmless ritual is super amusing.

On the other hand if the groundhog were to declare one year that yep, winter was over, time to come out early, the only logical reason for that would be that our weather systems had changed so much that global warming had truly taken hold and mucked everything up so much that we’re allll gooooing to diiiiiieeeeeee~ but instead of drastically changing stuff to fix things we’d just be instituting a new calendar.

On the third hand (that’s the one that reaches around and pinches your butt when you aren’t expecting it) Groundhog Day is always a really good excuse to watch the Bill Murray movie which is, IMO, still one of the best damn movies ever made (don’t get into this argument with me, I have talking points) and/or to read the numerous fanfics out there using the Groundhog Day trope, which are always infinitely satisfying and sometimes achingly wonderful. The thing about being stuck on the same day over and over is that what it truly becomes about is loneliness, which is a concept I identify with FAR too strongly, so it always makes it so much better when the protagonists’ plight ends. And it is reflective of winter itself - the seemingly endless series of crap crap CRAP days where nothing ever seems to REALLY change until one day you’ve managed to push through, and lo, it’s spring, and you’ve only just managed to resign yourself to the idea of winter.

suddenly a childhood memory is triggered

When I was quite small I was very uncreative with the names I gave to my things. I had a good selection of stuffed toys but my favorite animal was a simple little brown teddy bear whom I loved very very VERY much. I have a first cousin named Debbie, I pretty much worshiped her, and thus I named my bear Debbie Bear. All other stuffed animals were named after sundry relatives. I’m assured that it was adorable of me but in retrospect I’m very disappointed in myself.

Anyway, my mom and I would make clothes out of scraps of cloth for Debbie Bear and I would play dressup with her and I took her everywhere, including on trips. I don’t know if it was the first time I was ever on a plane but I was very confused and distracted and shame of shames, horror of horrors, I lost Debbie Bear on the plane. I was heartbroken.

Debbie Bear was just a normal bear, I think she might have been a gund? Anyway my parents went out and got me another one, but of course it WASN’T THE SAME. I even named her Debbie Bear Two, as though to just rub it in.

Obviously I got over it, as all children do when they lose their first favorite toy, but that’s not the childhood memory that was triggered - memories of Debbie Bear are pretty much with me always. No, what I’ve suddenly remembered is this:

Shortly after I lost Debbie Bear I got some picture books, and one of those books was Paddington Bear. I’m currently watching the 2nd episode of series 2 of BBC Sherlock, and Sherlock just said the word “Paddington” and BOOM.

I never cared about nor liked the Paddington Bear books, and I never figured out why they kept pushing them on me, but I realize now, they must have thought I would have liked the idea of Debbie Bear having been found and going on adventures after I lost her on the airplane. But that point was completely lost on me, I didn’t want to read about any bears at all because it made me sad!

am back home btw

I slept soundly through New Years’ after what FELT like three solid days of plane travel and partying hard.

Am now the owner of the most beautiful Kindle cover in all of existence - I am totally gonna read ALL OF THE THINGS just because I want to have a reason to hold and caress my kindle cover in public and be all “look at this beautiful functional thing I have”

http://www.oberondesign.com/shop/cart.php?m=product_detail&p=1311

um also I am going to try to backscroll through my dash but YOU GUYS, STOP POSTING SO MUCH, JEEEESUS. If there is something that perhaps my attention should be drawn to but that I clearly have missed, you should message me about it. Or heck you should just message me anyway cuz hiiiiii

1. Why does my hair ONLY look cool RIGHT BEFORE I’m going to fall asleep on it???

2. What the hell, Photobooth, why are you so incredibly overexposed??? That being said, I feel deeply that it ~distills my essence~

3. I am apparently a muppet.

just felt like sharing this picture of me from earlier in the month. I am flying obvy.

oh mah gawd i need a hairstyle of some sort

inspector-snuggles:

My Gender Adventure: GUYS. STOP IT.

mygenderadventure:

Being pansexual does not mean you’re “attracted to personality, not gender.” It doesn’t mean you “love the person for who they are”. And it doesn’t mean that you have no preference, same as being bi doesn’t mean you do.

If you aren’t romantically attracted to people? That’s fine! It doesn’t mean you’re not pansexual.

If you’re not shallow? Fantastic! That doesn’t make you pansexual!

So many of these things are full of so much elitist bullshit it drives me insane. I identify as pansexual: it means I can be attracted to people of any gender and sexual identity. It DOES NOT MEAN that I don’t have preferences, it doesn’t mean that I “love for personality, not appearance.”

As well, so many people seem to think that ONLY pansexual people will date transgender people, as in those who have or are planning to transition. This actually others them as something “other”. It almost says that, since pansexuals date/fuck “men, women, ftms, mtfs, genderqueers…”, that trans guys and trans girls are something other than men and woman, that they are some other thing that ONLY PANSEXUALS WILL DATE.

Theres also the whole bi vs pan debate. You know what? Neither is better than the other. Some prefer pan because it deletes the binary, but not everyone who identifies as bi sees gender as something binary. My boyfriend identifies as bi because he is attracted to penises and vaginas, in whatever form they appear.

Point is, identifying as pan does not make you a better person. It really bothers me when people seem to think that it’s just to say you’re not shallow.
Being not shallow is called being not shallow; you can still be pansexual, and be shallow, and that’s okay!

And, although it tends to be lumped together, we do have to separate sexual attraction and romantic attraction. Some are pansexual, but homoromantic, for example. Some people are pansexual and aromantic!

I also see an alarming amount of people who say they are pan redefining other sexual orientations. Not cool! Mostly when it comes to pan vs. bi. I’ve seen many people who identify as pan telling bisexuals that their orientation is oppressive and cissexist. This couldn’t be further from the truth, and in many cases some people just prefer the word “bisexual”. Some would just rather not explain what “pansexual” means, and that’s okay too! It’s not our job to educate people.

… This was longer than I meant to be. Oh well, I’ve been meaning to rant about this for awhile. I apologise if it’s a bit incoherent, it’s 2:30am ha. Definitely feel free to hit up my ask box to discuss!

This is why I identify as bisexual. Pansexual people, there are not enough of you around to be able to “reclaim” it from the mires of “what the fuck are you talking about??”. Yes, I’m HELLA into people who do not fall onto a binary gender/sexual spectrum. Also I’m super into people who DO. But FFS, do you know what happened when I even began to bring up the idea of liking someone like that to my parents this autumn, when I was visiting shortly after accidentally coming out to them on the phone? (I THOUGHT THEY ALREADY KNEW I WAS BI!!!! IT WAS AWKWARD but okay in the end~) What happened was, after a weekend of my parents being ABSOLUTE CHAMPS about the bisexual thing, my mom got this twisted look of “but how would you… with the parts… and…” and my dad launched into a rant about this trans person he’s dealt with at work (he’s in HR so he was part of the team that had to redefine certain guidelines and stuff for them, it was a big mess from his perspective) and they UTTERLY DID NOT COMPREHEND.

If I’m ever in the position to bring a trans person home to the Rents, I feel like it would be a disservice to their (hard fought-for) gender identity to have to further specify MY *sexual* identity as something other than bisexual to explain my attraction to them. And it would SO CONFUSE THE PARENTS. HOLY CRAPS. And they are the only people who matter to me as far as my need to label myself in these ways goes.

I know people who are pansexual and they have so many ISSUES and associated DEALYBOPS and I’m just like… I’m way too picky to be dealing with people thinking I have all this additional bullshit wrapped up in my sexual identity. I’m just gonna call myself bisexual, because everybody sort of knows what that means, and the people who take UMBRAGE to it are going to self-identify as the people I don’t want to associate with, up to and including pansexual people.

I’ve known pansexual people who are totally 100% cool with the bisexual label too, and they are swell folks. But I can NEVER TELL, you know? Labels are powerful, powerful things. Bisexual is just a less-loaded term, one that can be better-defined when asked for.

Perhaps this is related to my own things about how I’m VERY OBVIOUS about who I am and what sort of things I care about… others perhaps rely more on SPECIFIC kinds of labels to help answer those sorts of questions without really opening themselves up to closer scrutiny?

"Get out your speculums! We’re gonna have a party."

Me, in an email I just sent my mother about health insurance.

lately i’ve been thinking about ritual and aging.

my brother needed to get a wedding gift for a friend and his girlfriend suggested that he buy a record player and some lps but, being my brother he asked me for my thoughts on this slightly out there gift idea. I actually thought it was really great! If you take care of vinyl it lasts forever, and as long as you have a turntable you can play it, unlike mp3s or CDs with wacky copyright issues and such where even if you still have cobbled together something that will play the digital information out in the right audible format there’s no promise that something else won’t get in the way - with a record, you’ve got physical grooves representing soundwaves and that’s that. so too there’s this quality of music as ritual present in the playing of a record that is antithetical to the digital music age; artists are releasing new stuff on vinyl specifically because it causes people to treat the thing they spent so long and such energy producing like something to be valued, to be paid attention to, to not be background.

This is all coming up for me because of this question on ask metafilter, btw: http://ask.metafilter.com/202316/Should-I-start-buying-my-music-on-vinyl and some concurrent issues in my own life.

I thought it was a good wedding gift symbolically as well as just a “cool thing for that dude who has everything including a wedding in hawaii”. Nowadays I’m at the age where all my friends and family are getting married and it’s driving me nuts, but when I can detach myself from my EXTREEM LONELINESS I find myself most fascinated by the utter shift in what marriage means to different people I’ve known. I’m a really nosy person and I just ask people lots of direct questions so I think it sorta gets me into some headspaces that most people give no shits about; while someone would consider it normal to be interested in a window display I’m the person who very much wants to go in and see all the pins and clips on the backs of the mannequins. So anyway weddings are traditionally kind of a way to establish a household. You have two people and suddenly they’re gonna need all this STUFF, right? This is why you buy them toasters. But now people already live together (FAR more logical IMO) or they both individually have established themselves as capable adults; getting them salad spinners and champagne flutes is just something that makes more clutter, not an activity i ever wish to partake in because damn yo, we need to cut down on material goods as a culture and weddings are as good a place as any to start. Asian traditions are all about giving straight up cold cash and I’m down with that for reals, but also as someone who has gotten checks for birthday presents pretty much my entire life before I was established as being “weird” and “fickle” and “difficult to buy for” (that last one is very not true but the first two are) at a super young age, I can say that when someone gives me an actual present and they get it *right* it is way far above and beyond the awesomeness of delicious cashdollars.

For someone who lives in their head as much as I do I have some pretty obsessive thoughts about objects, about power imbued in physical things - it is a holdover I suppose of magical thinking but also I kind of think that magical thinking is not bad as long as it can be placed to the side in light of logic when logic is relevant, which is isn’t, not always.

Right so. A record player is kind of an interesting symbol to give to someone for their wedding. You have to have a place to store your records and you have to have the time to listen to them; you have to have the set-up to take care of them and the taste to buy interesting ones. In a way it is a test; do you have a home?? I’ve been really into the concept of home for the past 20 years; since moving to Seattle I think I’ve finally found mine. But more specifically for a marriage do you need a home? There are people who have happy marriages over great distances, who never live in the same place year to year, who are nomadic but still love each other and have families and are good people to have on the planet as couples instead of as individuals. I don’t begrudge them their marriage whatsoever. But for someone who isn’t in that type of relationship, they have all the STUFF of being grounded but perhaps don’t have a SYMBOL of it. A record player is one of sundry other callbacks to a tradition of solid place that is comforting, to me, anyway, something that is not backwards as it’s still quite useful and also is not a religious object.

But there’s still a ritual there. It’s the gift of a ritual, like giving someone a bible or a prayer book or a kiddush cup. Isn’t that interesting? That a turntable could be an aetheistic talisman?

And there’s something there about growing up and finding comfort in ritual, while not embracing the problems of religion, you can still have the pleasure of coded, rote behavior, without feeling bad about it. As a kid, I had a definite kneejerk negative reaction to pretty much all religious stuff. While god was sort of comforting I was kinda like “this is bullshit you guys” from the getgo. But yes, it’s true, everyone says it to you and you ignore it but it’s really really true, as you get older you get more religious. But what I’m finding for me is that it’s not that I’m getting more *religious* it’s that I’m requiring the comfort of ritual. I don’t have the energy to question everything every moment of every day. I like my tea the way I like my tea. I like my tv shows the way I like my tv shows. I like my room at a particular temperature. I like to say “so it goes” to people when a loved one dies and I need to read the mourner’s kaddish when someone of my own dies too. I’ve embraced Christmas, not as something about jesus or even about presents, but as a marker to the year, something that I’ve fought with fundamentally all my life. I know that August is the time when everything feels like it “starts” for me. It’s a jumble of things, of functioning on a predictable level, to which my younger self would react to with enormous distaste. I have to wonder how much of my thoughts on all of this are based on the extremely revelatory webcomic, Bruno: http://www.baldwinpage.com/bruno.html and how much of it is my own way of dealing with things. To make a long story short, I’m thinking about buying a record player so I can buy cheapo used records from around the corner, and have been thinking about it for a long time.

I’m sure almost none of this made sense to any of y’all. Later: more capslock!

I love formulaic teenage romantic comedies.

This is not news.

What may be news to my stalkers and fans (i gots hundreds of em!) is that I have never seen the fine film “Drive Me Crazy”. That’s the one where Melissa Joan Hart (Clarissa/Sabrina!) makes over her scruffy rebellious childhood friend in time for the psuedo-prom to scam their respective exes into hooking back up with them, only the plan fails spectacularly and they fall in ~love~ blah blah blah.

This film was made smack dab in the middle of my own highschool years. MJH is of course like, the spirit guide for girls my age. The male lead is that PERFECT blend of pouty kissable mouth and curly messy dark hair. The soundtrack is like a textbook selection of the background noise from my age 16. The internet looms large in the sideplots but not in a scary way. It is like a snapshot of time.

I remember *wanting* to see this movie in theaters, and nobody would go see it with me. I remember DESPERATELY PRAYING for the boy with whom I’d been in love going on 3 years by the point to be willing to see it with me. He was my best friend at the time, and instead I’m pretty sure we hung out in my basement and played video games. If I had the power to go back in time I’d be selfish as all hell and go back to myself at age 16 and teach myself how to clean up nice and instruct myself to fucking cut the crap and JUMP the boy. But as it was, all I wanted was for him to go to this one damn stupid movie with me. And I couldn’t even tell my OTHER best friend I wanted to see it, even though she would have been totally cool with it, probably even happy to go with me, but I was too fucking up on my high horse of hating myself when I was 16. Too much into crafting who I thought I was supposed to be. Thank god for the internet and a gaggle of 20 year old nerds who will tell you like it fucking is.

I never saw “Drive Me Crazy” except on tv one time all jumbled in bits and pieces and cut up with ads. And now I’ve seen it. And it is a perfect example of its form; the actors actually all have chemistry and character, the plot, while comfortably predictable, has flavors and twists that are perhaps less typical and more sharply representative of real life than one might expect, the music is shockingly on-point in retrospect, the clothes and slang and set dressing are all a perfect homage to its predecessors. And Britney Spears, of course, her titular song, it’s just a crystal memory of her on TRL, watching her in my basement on tv, scoffing, finding out she’s just my age and being outwardly disgusted and inwardly seethingly jealous, until that guy I wanted so very very badly to just take me to the damn movies, until he said one time that he didn’t like her hair. Then I decided I could like Britney Spears, ironically. Well, uber-ironically. I could like her because nobody else liked her because everybody liked her. It makes perfect sense.

Say what you will about romantic comedies. I see all their flaws too. But don’t make me stop loving the crap out of them.

reblog with your hipster self

gingerhaze:

brofisting:

game here

how handy they had my entire actual wardrobe to choose from

I uh

I am happy to report that absolutely NONE of this is accurate. I AM NOT A HIPSTER! (okay but i want that scarf tho.)

(Source: bucket-head)

this is a story called why i am fat and poor

I was just at the grocery store. The grocery store I live on top of is very fancy and organic, it’s a PCC Market and I love it to pieces but it’s pretty pricey. I decided, since the seafood-hating BFF is out, I’d go buy a piece of fish to cook for dinner. Well I got my cod (cheap!) and my lemon (cheap!) and my savoy cabbage (pretty and cheap!) and my bear tea (kind of expensive but better for me than what I’d end up drinking otherwise) and was about to head home when I was like, dammit, I have my period and I’m sad and I had to miss girl’s night out because of freaking work, AGAIN, so screw everything, I’m going to buy a fancy cupcake.

They have a cute baked things section of their deli area with adorable little bon-bons and petit-fours and whatever other french thing you like and I hovered by the counter for a minute, making eyes at the back of the head of the nice older lady who knows I like the kale and artichoke salad best if she tries to avoid the lemon slices and so-on, but who shows up but the new guy. The new guy, who is pretty and blond with these lovely green blue eyes… all cute and tucked into his crisp white uniform but scruffily unshaven… >_>

Everybody at the grocery store recognizes me. I come in sometimes every day of the week, sometimes twice a day! It’s not like a regular suburban grocery store situation where you have your usuals but it doesn’t matter and everyone’s faceless, oh no, these people inquire after my day and actually *mean* it. And I like them all too, they are super nice and friendly and my neighbors!

But anyway I was looking at the cute blond guy and he says “Can I get you a sweet?”

Guh.

Yes, you can. So I asked for the cupcake and then I was like, oh my god, it’s 6pm on a Tuesday and I’m buying a single cupcake, this is the SADDEST THING EVER T_T so like a MADWOMAN, when he popped the cupcake on top of the counter for me all labeled and ready to go I was eying the other stuff in the counter and desperately avoiding his gaze and he interpreted that as “Oh, something else for you miss?”

Madly, I responded “yes! I just… it’s so hard to choose for yourself. It’s easy when it’s for another person,” I said, pointing insanely to the cupcake in front of me, like I wasn’t going to go home and eat it and spoil my dinner immediately, “but when it’s for yourself suddenly you have all these choices.”

Cute blond guy twinkled and said “I hear you.”

“Um, I’d like one of the apricot tarts, please.”

“Nice,” says the pretty man.

“…I’m classy like that,” I blather, noticing that the apricot tarts cost over twice as much as the fancy cupcake, oh god what have I done, will the apricot tart even be any good tomorrow, shit shit damn…

And that is why I am fat and poor.

most unremarkable halloween of my life.

I’m a scaredy cat. When I was small, like honestly as soon as I could see more than a foot away from my face, I was scared of everything. I was a “princess” for the first like, 7 years of my life, (mom had sewn gold rickrack on the edges of two cotton tunics, one pink and one blue, and I wore all my dressup jewelry) and I’d cower in the hall by the front door and hide whenever trick or treaters came by. I was scared of EVERYTHING. I was scared of CEILING FANS.I went trick or treating one year when I was still living in Texas, so I was definitely younger than 7, I think maybe 5? I think it might have been the first time I ever went. And some dude answered the door in a gorilla suit, yelling and flailing his arms around and I was traumatized.

I didn’t go trick or treating ever again.

We moved to Virginia and there was a block party every year on halloween in our neighborhood. The first few years my family tried to make me attend, but the people in costumes scared me. I would stay home and be afraid of absolutely nothing, in the broad daylight, while my family went and drank punch with the neighbors.

Then when I was 11 my second-tier friend Patty (patti?) had a halloween party, and I went as a “hippie”, and it was fun and I got to wear her dad’s old suede fringe vest and wrap scarves around my head and stuff, and I gave flowers to people who gave me candy…

And I sort of spent the next few years trying to make up for the lost trick or treating years. I tried to get my other friends to have parties, I used my best friend’s little brother (who wasn’t much younger than us) as an excuse, but… I was super uncool and Halloween just never quite came together for me.

And I was still afraid of everything. I still am… I just sort of have a grip on it now. And things that I once found totally terrifying, well, it turns out some of those things are actually what kinda… gets my juices flowing? Not necessarily in a sexual way, but stuff like costumes and makeup and masks? Really just *grips* me, and I guess that kind of intensity scared me shitless when I was little.

Anyway every year I never have any halloween plans and I tend to spend lots of money assembling parts of a costume that never come together and then I don’t really have any reason to wear it anyway… But then when the night actually comes, I get kinda spooked out.

In fremont, we have Trolloween. Everyone marches down the road and parties under the bridge… it’s like, drums and chanting in the dark…. and it echoes around all cool and ominous and festive and I went and did it one year and that was kinda cool. But last year I didn’t do it, it just marched past my apartment and it was totally freaky cool, but also made me really all yearning and lonely and filled with want for a sort of spirituality i’m just always that tiny bit too cynical to actually embrace. does that make any sense? And of course I probably was watching some halloween movie on tv and all.

This year I’ve been enjoying the halloween tv program this past week, but today I actually just had a bunch of work to do. I didn’t have any sort of costume that I bothered with. Hell, I only left the house to go get a coffee.

Well, when I left the house, I *did* get to see all the neighborhood urban kids going around in costumes with their parents to the local businesses and getting candy, which was adorable, and there was a sunshower, so there was a big rainbow over the neighborhood at about 4pm. But really, that’s kind of par for the course for Fremont. God, I love my neighborhood. But anyway.

Nothing happened today for me. When the Trolloween parade came past, it was kinda cool sounding, but it didn’t spook me. I didn’t catch any freaky movies on tv, I didn’t suddenly become irrationally scared of *something* happening at midnight… I didn’t eat a bunch of candy (even though we have plenty, thanks Ian’s mom), and I didn’t even get all yearning for spirituality or community or… nothin.

Just… watchin’ Wonder Years and doing work and crocheting like every other day this week. Nothing.

In the hypothetical future where I have friends and family, I hope I can have a Halloween where I actually get to celebrate it like it’s supposed to be done… to let me share a part of myself I normally keep hidden. To play dressup and not get stared at. But I dont know… because I don’t really hide ANY parts of myself, and systematically reject the people in my life who make me feel like I should. And I play dressup all the time; in my neighborhood, EVERYBODY does. So maybe the reason I felt nothing, and no yearning, and didn’t feel compelled to lie to myself that I might just maybe maybe have some plans this halloween, is because I didn’t need to? Are my halloween needs just met on a year-round basis, now?