Ghosts of Halloweens past ...

Before I begin, let me just say: I LOVE that Halloween is on a Sunday this year. LOVE. IT. Christine O'Donnell might deny her witchiness, but if you ask me, she planned it.

HALLOWEEN! The celebration of All Hallow's Eve, Samhain, All Souls Day, El Dia de los Muertos (which, while technically Nov.1st, still celebrates the dead, so it counts). Do you remember waiting months, weeks, and days for Halloween? Do you remember planning out your costume in intricate detail? That familiar scent of fall mixed high fructose corn syrup? The anticipation of going to school looking like something other than a nerdy kid, and maybe (depending on the year), getting to wear *gasp!* MAKEUP?! Do you remember the thrill of watching "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!" on public access TV??????? (Okay, maybe that last one was just me...)

I DO. I loved the anticipation of Halloween, though not necessarily Halloween itself. I loved planning my costumes every year, racking my brain for better, more creative ideas than anyone else. I loved trick or treating, I loved the candy. What I didn't love was all the scariness attached to it. I *HATED* being scared, and this is coming from a child who was scared all the time, whether it was Halloween or no. I still get scared easily. I don't do scary movies, I don't do fright fests, and I CERTAINLY do not do Haunted Houses. It was a bit of a battle for me, year after year - in order to celebrate my awesome creativity, I had to brave all the haunted-house-nightmare-on-elm-street-friday-the-13th-Jason-in-a-hockey-mask-Freddy-Kreuger's-blood-drenched-metal-fingers-ghosts-in-the-graveyard-things-that-go-bump-in-the-night-and-kill-me-with-a-chainsaw bullshit. Sometimes I failed, sometimes I succeeded. But no matter the fear factor, I was always there - ironic and esoteric costume in tow.

You have to understand - when you're raised by theatre professionals, the costume possibilities are endless. It was never enough for me to be a typical Halloween anything. I was never once a witch, or a ghost, or a mummy (I did go as Dracula one year, but I was the best Dracula you've ever seen!). I never went as the cartoon-character-of-the-year, never dressed up as any kind of doll or princess. And with my costume shop kingdom, I won costume contest after costume contest - it was every child's DREAM! Except most other children weren't envious of me, so much as they were relieved that there was someone (much) weirder than them. But I *liked* being weird. In fact, I kind of excelled at it.

Case-in-point: The 1st Grade Dragonfly Faery (age 6)

I wasn't just a Dragonfly, and I wasn't just a Faery. I was a dragonflyfaery. Costume source: Gem Theatre costume shop, thanks to my dad. I believe the wings and head were from a recent production of A Midsummer Night's Dream.

That was pretty much as girly as I got. I don't think I was ever caught in pink tights again. But look at the production values on that mask! What kid wouldn't want something that geeky cool??

Costumes became more complicated as I grew older, however. At some point, I lost my costume shop privileges; not because of anything I'd done, but I didn't have access to it anymore. That's when my right brain kicked in, and came up with some truly out-there ideas. Like what? Davy Crockett. In 1992. I don't know if you remember how popular Davy Crockett was in 1992, but I think he was somewhere between Howdy Doody and a French Revolutionary. I was *SO* insanely proud of this idea. I had gone on a roadtrip that summer with my mom, step-dad, and step-sisters. It was a wholly awful trip - lots of arguing, usually about something that I did (I hated being the youngest), though I can't remember. The arguing was so bad, my mom took me and we went off on our own. For my money, that was the best part of the trip - we saw Old Faithful, and the sulfer springs - and with the money I had been saving, I bought myself a coon-skin cap and a musk-ox horn - the noise-making variety, not for gunpowder.

In late August, long after we had returned home, I told my mom I wanted to be Davy Crockett for Halloween. She found the costume print, we picked out the fabric, and she even bought me a pair of moccasins to wear. It had the fringe on the arms, the front of the jacket - I had my cap guns and air-chamber rifle I had been given the Christmas before - it. was. AWESOME. I won 2nd place at the Whittier Halloween Festival, and received a whole bucket load of candy, and a ribbon. The candy was offered up to the rest of the family (and was promptly consumed). But the ribbon stayed on my bookshelf for YEARS - a testament to my originality and affirmation in my creativity. So while I was constantly doing something wrong in the eyes of my step-family, I had a token reminder that I was actually much better than what they were telling me.

Unfortunately, I don't have any photos of me as Davy Crockett, though my mom might. But that's still my favorite Halloween costume to date.

By the time I reached high school, my need for originality got worse. A LOT worse. My sophomore year, I stapled trash to an old shirt and pair of jeans, smeared my face with dirt, and went as Pollution.

My senior year, I went as an Academic:

[By the by, this photo was taken at my friend Anna's house at 6:30 a.m., before 0 period Marching Band. So if I look half-awake, it's because I am.]

As an adult, Halloween doesn't have the same significance to me. I enjoy it, it's fun. I don't dress up anymore - I think being an actor has taken all of the air out of that particular balloon. I do love passing out candy, though, and seeing the kids in their costumes now. Unfortunately, adulthood also comes with a price - I'm starting a temp job on Halloween that begins at 6:00 p.m. and lasts until 3:00 a.m. So no candy deposits for me this year. The things we do for a buck, eh? Ah well.

I could go on and on about the weirdness/genius of my past Halloween costumes, but rather than waxing poetical in long detail, I'll list them instead.

Top 9 Halloween Costumes I've worn/created:

1. Davy Crockett (age 10)*
2. The Artful Dodger (age 5)* - Yes, from Oliver!
3. Errol Flynn/Captain Blood (age 8)
4. Pollywog/Frog (age 2)
5. Pollution (age 15)

6. Lesbian Army of one (age 20)*
7. Calamity Jane (age 9)
8. Werewolf of London (age 7)*
9. Robbin Hood (age 11)

* Denotes costume contest winners

(Wow. I'm totally braggy about my costumes! I apologize for the blatant douchiness)

Single WORST Costume I've ever been forced to wear:

CLOWN (age 4)

The story: I hate clowns. I've ALWAYS hated clowns. One Halloween, my dad has to go out of town for business, so he asks my best friend's mom if I can go trick-or-treating with them? Of course! My dad wonders what costume he should appropriate for me, and Pam, my best friend's mom says, don't worry about it, I have an extra costume, then the girls will match! Perfect, says my dad. So I show up to my best friend's house, very excited about wearing a matchy-matchy costume with her. She takes me into her room to show me, and whambamthankyouma'am, I see the clown wig and the crazy costume, and I BURST into tears. Somewhere, there's a photo of Crystal and I standing in Pam's kitchen - Crystal is smiling shyly, not sure what to do, because I can't stop crying.

If you could see the photo below close up, you'd see tear-tracks in my clown makeup. This is after the fiasco, where I'm emotionally binge-eating chocolate, in an attempt to patch the giant hole of terror that was brutally ripped in my psyche.

Trick-or-treating with pillow cases! OLD. SCHOOL.

Some more Halloween Favorites:

Candy: Rolos or Milky Way Midnights (worst: anything that's not chocolate, and whoppers)

Movie: "It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown"

Song: "I Put a Spell on You" Bette Midler, a la Hocus Pocus

Event: The Rocky Horror Halloween party I threw in my hall when I was an RA in College, complete with toilet paper, toast, rice, and every Rocky Horror accoutrement known to human kind.

So what about you? Favorites? Worsts? Fears? I hope your Halloween is whatever you want it to be - whether it's celebrating your own brilliance, or cuddling up on the couch with your favorite bag of candy, and watching something scary like the 700 Club on the boob tube. 

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"Let's all go to the movies!" or, FINALLY! A post that's not about dogs!!

When I was little ... like 3 or 4 ... Annie was my favorite movie. I loved it *so* much, my dad produced the live stage version, just for me! I would sing it, I would quote it, I would while away hours in my room by myself, reenacting it. One of the highlights was that the dog who played Sandie came to live with us, and as we didn't have a dog of our own, it was awesome!

Ahhh ... the halcyon days of my childhood. I identified with that spunky, little orphan. In fact, when I was really young, I thought I was an orphan. I didn't see how I possibly belonged to my mother. Oh, my father I knew - beyond the shadow of a doubt - I was related to. But I figured he just searched for me until he found me. Coincidentally my love for Little Orphan Annie was only replaced (around the age of 6 or 7) by another orphan named Anne ... but this one was Canadian, and didn't sing or dance.

Both orphans ... with red hair ... names begin with A ... smart, spunky, optimistic girls who pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, took it on the chin, and never looked back. That must have been the reason why I hated being blonde - by all rights, my hair should have been red. UGH! Stoopid genetics.

I digress.

One of my favorite scenes in Annie (the movie) is when Albert Finney, as Daddy Warbucks, takes Annie and Grace (Ann Reinking) to the movies, simply because Annie had never been to one before ... because she's an orphan. What I loved about that bit, was the bizarre fact that Daddy Warbucks buys every seat in the theater, just for that one show. I guess it isn't really bizarre - if I were a billionaire at the beginning of the depression, and seats were only a nickel a pop, buying all the seats would be chump change in the deep money couch of my life. But when I was little, it seemed so ... extravagant!

I went to the movies tonight. I also went to the movies on Thursday night. And while I understand that it isn't 1933 anymore, I think that $11.50 for one seat in a movie theater is a little much. $11.50!! Last year, it was $10.00. The inflation rate seems a bit steep, doesn't it? But then, I suppose with the competition of television, live performances, and more visual stimulus than anyone in 1933 could possibly imagine, I suppose I understand the need for it ... to a degree. I'm sure that in the '30s, everyone would go to the movies. That was it - that was the entertainment. Besides my two friends and I, there were maybe 20 other people, sitting in a theatre that could probably seat 100-125 people.

On the other hand, we have 30 times the amount of movies playing in one theatre now. Literally - the movie houses had one screen, and one movie. Now, we have AMC 30 - 30 screens, and up to 30 movies (though probably closer to 24, since the newest releases show on multiple screens). But all of this means that I spent $23.00 in two days to see two separate movies.

So my $23.00 is going to what, exactly? The actors on screen? Only partially. The Studios? Most definitely. The movie theatre itself? I'm sure. I don't generally go to the movies a lot. I'm usually either too poor, or too busy. It takes a lot - and I mean, A LOT - to get me to slap down $11.50 to go watch people (who get paid amounts that I can't even quantify), perform on a two-dimensional screen, surrounded by other people who can't turn off their electrical gadgets, for reasons I can only assume are related to life-threatening situations (or ... you know, not), listening to babies cry (seriously? Why are you taking your NEWBORN to the MOVIES?), and/or children running up and down the aisles (When did the concept of parenting vanish??).

And for all of this - I actually like going to see movies. I'm not trying to knock films, or film actors. I don't think it's a stupid medium. I value both the art and entertainment a movie can provide. But more and more, I would rather take my $11.50 and go see some possibly hideous NoHo live theatre. Which I would totally do ... if I lived in NoHo.*

Now ... all of this being said, the movie I saw on Thursday night is called Easy A. This one was WELL worth my money. Why?

1. Emma Stone.
2. Any teen movie that seeks to question and chastise the obsession we have with female sexuality is AWESOME.
3. Any teen movie that does the above by incorporating smart dialogue and the major themes and parallels of the Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne - yes, Yes, YES!

I'm going to buy it when it comes out on DVD, it was that good.

Tonight we saw You Again. I probably could have waited to see this one on Netflix.

1. Kristen Bell is very good - the best thing about the movie, really.
2. Sigourney Weaver - well, who doesn't like Sigourney Weaver? In anything??
3. Script - nice concept, poor delivery.
4. If you go see it, tell me what you think about the dude who plays Kristen Bell's brother. (I wanted to hit him in the face with a baseball bat, just to shut him up)

But the bone that I'll throw to both these movies, is that I found myself in an inner-dialogue questioning my own experience. With Easy A, I was thinking about the creative delivery and brilliant tie-in with the Scarlet Letter, and then how the writers turned it on its head. It made me want to become an English teacher, again. Or ... you know, for the first time. I really want every teenager to see this film - a "what not to do" for both men and women.


You Again had me thinking back to my high school career - being grateful that I was never horrible to anyone, and that no one tormented me. I survived, and got out (relatively) unscathed. No, don't think I'm lucky ... I got mine in Middle School. Although hideously, the movie had Kristen Bell graduating high school in 2002, and supposedly growing up and empowering herself in the long, long years since her teenage version of hell; she plays a public relations executive - a VP at the age of 26?? REALLY?? I have to admit ... that was just a bit much. Especially since I graduated in ... never mind. But it made me feel OLD - and I'm not really in any life position just yet to feel that way. Although, the fact that I'm currently unemployed at the moment didn't make it any easier.

Ah well.

Also, I spend $8.95 a month to watch movies, courtesy of Netflix, on my Wii. Saturday night, I was up till 3:30 a.m., watching Lena Headey (mmmmm) speak with a Scottish accent (*Drool*) in a British film called Aberdeen. Relatively depressing, yet redeeming - Stellan Skarsgard is also in it. In a nutshell: A cocaine addict is sent by her mother, who's dying of cancer, to retrieve her alcoholic father in Norway, and get him back to Aberdeen, before mom dies.

I decided to chase that little gem of happiness with Rachel Getting Married. Everyone I know has been telling me how great this movie is, and how great Anne Hathaway is in it. I don't know what I was expecting; possibly some honest-to-goodness self-deprecating humor, or at least the "funny-'cause-it's-true" variety -the kind I love in movies about family dysfunction. Yeah, it doesn't have any of that. Imagine my shock! It was so painful ... I almost turned it off. I didn't - and I'm glad I didn't. But hot damn. There should be category requirements for dysfunctional family films:

"It puts the FUN in dysFUNctional!" or "It's just going to make you cry." Or, possibly: "Wes Anderson Dysfunctional" or "Mommy Dearest Dysfunctional." I know I'd appreciate the warning. Anyway, Anna Deavere Smith and Bill Irwin are in it, as is Debra Winger. It was all sort of heart-wrenchingly fabulous from an acting point-of-view.

And lastly, having nothing to do with anything I've just talked about, I've decided that I like Glee. Many people thought I already did, just because I happen to be a lesbian, and the show deals with gay themes and musical theatre. But folks, let me tell you - the gay boys are the ones who are stereotyped to like musicals. The lesbians are stereotyped to like sports. See the difference? You can witness this stereotyping right here, on my blog. Just look to see how many musical theatre-related items I've tagged. Now look to see how many sports-related items I've tagged. PLEASE - let's stop confusing this. I feel slightly annoyed whenever someone tries to stereotype me outside of my stereotype.

Also - I'm tired of the "liberal" media linking pedophilia to gay rights and/or sex. [see: anti-gay rights pastors/priests/politicians who are accused and/or actually solicit sex from young boys] This story pissed me off ... though I do find a *great* amount of irony in Ted Haggard coming to his defense ...

And - I bought my first purse/bag/thing on Saturday. I was with my friend Stephanie who said, "It's stylish, but it's also very you!!" I wasn't sure how to take that comment, exactly, but it's true! It's cargo-fabulous, has a long adjustable strap, and lots of pockets. I was getting really tired of carrying my wallet, keys, cell phone and multiple pairs of glasses in my pockets, on my head, or hanging by my shirt. Lara told me today that it was a "bag." Liz told me it was "a satchel." Whatever it is, it's mine, and it boosts my estrogen and femininity in one fell swoop. Just one more element in my ultimate quest for androgyny! BWUAHAHAHAHA! My evil plan is working! Soon, no stereotype will work at all!! Look upon me and tremble!!

......and I'm done.

* While I do support OC theatre, NoHo is the only place I know of where tickets for $11.50 (or less!) actually exist.

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