To Be Desired

Last night I was in bed, unable to get to sleep, and I started thinking about desire. No. Not my phone. The act of desire. Feeling desired. Or making someone feel desired.

You see, people like to feel desired. Not just women either. Men too. They want to know that others think they are attractive. We all do. And not just from our partners. Even when we are in loving, caring, amazing relationships it can still feel good to have someone else desire you. Compliment you. Think you're the bee's knees.

See, most of the time, the task of making us feel desired comes down to the people we take to bed with us. Mostly meaning our partners, girlfriends, boyfriends, wives, husbands, sidekicks. It's kind of their job to make you feel desired. Attractive. Admired. Coveted. Longed for. I mean, it shouldn't be hard to do, right? Because you shouldn't be going to bed with someone you don't find attractive, right?

Well, not exactly. Trust me, my bubble was busted too.

A couple months ago a male friend told me men will sleep with any girl (we are saying girl simply because it jives with the fact that I am a heterosexual woman and am really only interested in forming sexy relationships with men who like the ladies. For all I know, this might actually apply to gay men as well, but at the point in time we were actually discussing men who like chicks.) Anyway, this friend also went on to clarify that it didn't matter whether the dude was even attracted to the person or not, he could still knock boots with her regardless of whether she was hot or not.  

Yeah, it seemed pretty harsh to me. Mostly because the thought of someone sleeping with me only because Monday night bowling was cancelled made me feel sad. My friend said, even though men preferred their booty buddies to not be dogs, if push came to shove...you get my point. And then I found myself kind of disenchanted because sex isn't just sex to me. Maybe I'm a hippy but I think there should be some sort of attraction going on there. But even if there is that initial mind blowing chemistry it doesn't mean it's going to last forever. Or even a year.    

We've all been there, knee-deep in a relationship only to see the sex fizzling out. We go from feeling desired to feeling like yesterday's dirty laundry pile on the floor of your bedroom. The truth is, a lot of us have been in relationships where the sexual, affectionate, complimentary, ego boosting side of the relationship dies and has to be buried in the backyard next to the remains of Crumpy the hamster. Some people think the death of the hanky-panky is inevitable, that it will dwindle regardless of how you try to avoid it.

I don't want to believe that's true. I want to believe there are people who can live their whole lives together and find one another more attractive each year that passes. I want to believe there are couples who enjoy each other physically no matter how many days, weeks, months or years pass.

One might call this wishful thinking.

Because we all know things change. The compliments stop. Affection gets put on the back burner. Sex lessens, and sometimes stops altogether. Kissing is reserved for hellos and goodbyes and goodnights. Holding hands becomes virtually non-existent. And cuddling? Well, that's just for the honeymoon stage. It's almost as though the better you know someone, the less you actually want to touch them. Or touching them becomes less important for some reason.

Don't get me wrong. I'm sure you love them, but do you lust them? Do you desire them?

It's like that terrible scene in the first episode of Breaking Bad. It's Walter's fiftieth birthday and his dutiful wife is intent to giving the birthday boy a little action. She's going to take care of him because it's his special day. Except, her laptop's open and they're talking about chores that need to be done around the house as she gives him some manual pleasure. In the short scene so much is conveyed. Maybe it depresses me because I understand it. I've done something simply for the sake of doing it before, like it's expected, a quota I needed to fill.

We grow up. We get old. We move in together. Have kids. Buy homes. Work overtime. Stress about money. Get annoyed with each other. Become resentful and bitter. I get it. Life happens. But part of me wonders if it can't be avoided, not life, but the breakdown of desire. What if we simply put our phones and computers away. Turn the television off. Mute the world around us so we can reconnect, and not just mentally or emotionally, but physically as well.

So often, it simply turns to routine. Trying to schedule intimacy into our busy lives. If we're lucky. Sometimes we just let it fall to the wayside and gradually forget what it's like to be wanted. And, essentially, that's what desire comes down to. Feeling wanted. Being wanted. Having someone touch you because they want to, not because they're supposed to.

I guess it's easy to desire someone you don't really know. A picture. A model. An actress. The cute girl who serves you coffee. It's harder to desire someone you see everyday. The girl who always wears sweatpants around the house, who cleans the kitchen floor, or nags you for leaving your crap on the dining room table.  The guy who comes home dirty, picks his toenails, and can't seem to put the toilet seat down.

Or maybe we just forget how attractive they are. The qualities we lusted after in the beginning disappear. We just don't see them anymore. We forget what initially drew us to them. Or maybe we simply grow accustomed to seeing them, to the point where we don't really see them at all. They turn into a piece of furniture. The old worn leather chair you've had for so long. It's comfortable, and even if unsightly, you're just used to it.

Either way, I've never really felt extremely desired. You know, to have someone unable to keep their hands off me. Probably because I've never been 'sexy' (please see this blog to understand). Those who have had lusted over me usually don't really know me. And maybe that's the kicker. Maybe the 'can't keep my hands, lips, eyes off you' thing is specifically for the beginning, or internet affairs. On hold for those who don't really know us and can let their imaginations turn us into something we aren't. A fantasy. The perfect recliner, not the cute ottoman that you really are.

The thing is, if you feel like a piece of furniture - functional, practical, scotch-guarded and safe - then that's probably how others will start to look at you. Perhaps you need to desire yourself before other people will desire you.

And maybe I'm just rambling to fill space.

I Am Not Here To Hurt You

People don't want to hurt you.

Well, let me rephrase that. Most people don't want to hurt you.

Sure, there are some sadistic bastards out there who take pleasure in causing harm, but they are actually far and few between. That may come as a shock. Probably because we live in this crazy world where we are constantly being told how hurtful and distrustful everyone is. Everyone is out to get us. They want to steal our homes, cars, and boyfriends and girlfriends. Our friends and family are moments away from using and abusing us. Co-workers are going to take credit for our work. Bosses are going to overwork and underpay us. Cooks will spit in our food. Grocery clerks will overcharge us. Random people we don't know want to clone our identities and become us.

Well, that's just crazy. Isn't it? Sure, you're all nodding your heads, but the paranoia is there, it's set in, and it's spreading. Because we all know what happened to so-and-so. She went to wherever and ran into what's-his-name and the humdinger and the what-cha-ma-call-it and nothing will ever be the same again. Her life is ruined! And there are a hundred stories to back up the don't trust your neighbour vibe we are cultivating. Whether we like it or not, no one can be trusted. I heard it on the news; so it must be true. 

To counteract it, we have to be diligent. We can't become victims. No one wants to be made a mockery of! Square your shoulders, narrow your eyes into suspicious slits and watch with the dedication of a hawk all the people you come in contact with. They are all out to get you. You can't trust anyone. No one wants to see you happy. Humans are self-serving creatures that want to creep into your house at night and take all your good memories and laughter and love. 

It's so ridiculous, but I was there once. I thought people were out to get me. After you catch your friends talking bad about you and have enough run-ins with creeps on the street you start to believe what the media is selling. This is where the fear comes in. Controlling-lock your doors when you enter your house-check your backseat-don't stop to give the lost man directions-fear. A fear so thick and suffocating that we don't walk anywhere alone late at night and certainly won't open our doors if someone is banging on it crying for help. Why? Because we are going to get mugged or tricked or taken advantage of.  

I'm sorry to tell you, it's a lie. And it's been a lie since we were kids when we were told not to talk to strangers. These feelings of antipathy carry on until we are adults. Strangers are painted as these evil monsters who want to rip out your fingernails and feed you poisoned candies. Except, and I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we are all strangers - and sometimes we get lost and make mistakes. Sometimes we do horrible things. There are even times when we are mean. But then we are also nice and giving, caring and sweet. And every-so-often, we need help, just like everyone else.

If given the chance, maybe all of us strangers can change things. There are a handful of individuals trying to divide us, of that I'm certain, and modern society is indeed a step backwards. We want bigger fences and less connections, or so we are told. We are no longer a tribe. We do not know our neighbours. The days of borrowing sugar are long gone, and I highly doubt anyone introduces themselves to the new people who move in on their block. Our welcome mats have long been disposed of. And the lonely pit we are all now dwelling is getting a little deeper every day. Eventually, we won't be able to get out. 

Right now, most of us are merely existing in this world. To simply exist means to eat, sleep and breathe, and that is just a waste of life. We want to live here. And to live is to thrive and grow. I spent many years dwelling in my hurt and I allowed it to make me jaded. It brought me so far away from the girl I wanted to be, the girl I knew I was, that I lost sight of what I was doing. It took me a long time to get back to where I belonged, to find my home again.

Life is precious  It is fleeting. We have no time to waste. Which is why we need to cherish the moments we are here. The moments we are together. We need to appreciate ourselves and each other.   

If the world doesn't end next week, I propose a radical movement of love based on trust and forgiveness. Perhaps if we let go of our past wrongs, then we can move into future rights. Stop the negative thinking and let some positive light shine in. And, most importantly, understand that there are more good people in this world than bad. Hopefully, with a little hard word, some laughter and plenty of cookies and cake, we can undo some of the damage that has occurred. I want to try to change this perception that mankind is uncaring and unforgiving. Maybe then we can start to unravel this horrendous knot of apathy and animosity our society is entangled in.

From this day forward, know this - I am not here to hurt you.

And I choose to believe you are not here to hurt me. 

Holy Crap

I haven't blogged in ages.

I promise to do one next week. And it's going to be good.

A Good Cry

The term 'having a good cry' is confounding to me.

I mean, to put it in the simplest way possible, crying simply isn't good for me.

Okay, I understand some people cry when they are overcome with happiness, but I'm not one of those people. Even when I cry at weddings, it usually isn't because I am so thrilled for the people involved. Most likely it's because I think the person is making a huge mistake. Of course, I probably shouldn't have admitted that. I mean, now if you see me crying at your wedding you're going to think I'm not supportive, like you're making the most unwise decision of your life. Please, if you invite me to your wedding, and you see me bawling my eyes out, just assume you are the exception, not the rule.

Now that I've covered myself, let me delve a little deeper into this whole 'good cry' thing.

Crying, like from-the-gut-sobbing-can't-control-the-tears-bawling, is a very bad thing. I get that people think it is cleansing and a wonderful way to release pent up emotions. But I'd rather sweat out the toxic sadness with exercise or vent it in the form of a good string of curse words. It totally sucks to be reduced to a bag of tears and isn't in any way refreshing.

You know what's refreshing? A bubble bath or eucalyptus steam.

Not only does crying make me look like hell, but I feel like hell - but hell on a bad day, not a lukewarm afternoon when Lucifer isn't in such a damning mood.

While I am sitting here thinking about the act of being reduced to weeping mess, all that keeps playing in my head are the horrible, terrible, awful things. And yes, I did need three words to describe the same thing there. Let's look at the outcome of these so called 'good' cries. Sore Eyes. Runny Nose. Puffy Face. Snotty sleeves. Pounding temples. Feeling like an utter moron if people are around to bear witness to the spectacle, and feeling turdish if I'm alone. (Turdish is totally a new word for us all to enjoy) Let's face it, blubbering is ugly. Not even babies or supermodels can make it attractive.

Have you ever cried and there isn't a tissue around? Snot trails down your nose, mixes with the saltiness of your tears, gets in your mouth because crying close mouthed is next to impossible. So, you wipe it on your sleeve, trying desperately to pretend you have everything in control while silently thinking how disgusting it is that your nose is dripping and you are powerless to stop the hideous scene. All you can do is roll with it and try to act like it isn't happening. Yeah. We've all been there.

And apparently women are known for crying. We are identified as criers. Some people even say we can't even control it. Our hormones are to blame. Damn those hormones!

The thing is, I don't cry all that much. Not at cute commercials, or sad movies. I don't spend a lot of time snivelling over burnt toast, my job (or ex-job), or weight gain. My period rarely has me in tears. That said, I know a lot of ladies who do participate in sob-fests fairly often and, to tell you the truth, I admire them. I admire anyone who can own their feelings like that and shove them out there for all to witness.

The whole thing makes me feel far too vulnerable. I mean, it does happen. But since I dislike it so much, when I finally cave into the melancholy monster it is business. And it is messy.

With all this said, I almost cried on the way home from my friends' house last night. It's been hanging out for awhile. I felt it coming, the shudder in my chest, the tension pull behind my eyes, the pain down my throat. But I managed to suppress it. Detour around it for a couple more...hours? Days? Weeks? Who knows?

I mean, it's there, lurking about, waiting patiently for me to let it out. And it's going to happen. I mean, it's all part of human nature and not being an emotionless psychopath. But rest assured, it isn't going to be a 'good cry'. I won't walk away from it feeling rejuvenated and sighing like I've just had a demon exorcised out of me. No, I'll be annoyed and exhausted. I'll want to sleep.

There is, of course, an exception. And that's laughing until you cry. That's just awesome.

Love Is

Because last week's post was all downtrodden and uninspiring, I've decided to write about love. But not the standard witty and funny sort of the thing you've all grown to love. No, more like a list. To lighten the heart and free us (me, really) from the shackles of last week's birthday blues.

So, this is what love is to me.

Love is...

- having a sidekick
- catching a glance and knowing it is only filled with affection
- laughing until you cry
- baking sweet treats and refusing to eat them until the other person has had first taste
- listening first and talking second
- music nerdiness
- having a month long horror movie fest
- sending care packages in the mail
- watching the same film at night even when you aren't together
- smiling when you first wake up
- a Sons of Anarchy marathon while doing a puzzle on a rainy Sunday
- kisses for no reason
- doing things without obligation
- never feeling lonely even when you're alone (though still missing the other)
- snuggling for warmth
- running baths and putting the bubbles in (and lighting the candles)
- turning the television off when the other person falls asleep
- and not smothering them with a pillow when they are snoring
- handmade cards
- actually, handmade anything
- spending a hundred hours on the internet trying to find something amazing to hand make
- washing the other's back (while sneaking a peek at the good)
- pirate ship models
- surprise gifts for no reason
- making the bed without being asked
- thank yous (manners matter)
- not making demands or ultimatums
- not minding the stinky stuff
- good mornings and goodnights, respectively
- leaving a note
- planning for the future
- honest moments
- friendship, and being friends
- a mutual zombie respect
- asking 'how are you?'
- the sound of wooden wind chimes
- home cooked meals
- cleaning house
- having a good story to tell people how it all began
- unwavering support, like that of a jock strap or really good bra
- knowing you always have someone on your side
- celebrating the good stuff
- working through the bad stuff
- not holding back
- reminiscing on dirty moments
- sharing the cake (even when you really, really, really don't want to)
- communicating, even when it's hard
- doing, not necessarily saying
- proving it's true

And such stuff.

Unstoked

It seems like it's been forever since I wrote a post here, when in reality it's only been eight days. I guess I needed a break. To order my thoughts, perhaps. Or maybe life seems a bit unimpressive and I've tried to keep that to myself. For a number of reasons, really. I don't want to drag other people down. And there's no sense moaning about life when it could be so much worse.

I got my health. A roof over my head. Food in my belly. Clothes on my back. Friends and family, though slightly behind me and to the left, they are still there. And cute boys. I have all of these things.

So, why am I feeling so disenchanted?

Well, the daily job is a bummer. It doesn't matter that I'm a firm believer my 9-5 does not define me. I mean, I know it isn't who I am, but it still irks me that it's where I am. Sure, it helps pay some of my bills. But not all of them. Money is constantly hanging over my head. I hate the feeling of doing things simply for the green. They say money doesn't buy happiness, but it sure could make the giant axe wielded by bill collectors seem less sharp. The home I live in. Yeah, it's nice enough, but buying a place seems to have put some restrictions on my future. And maybe that was a silly thing for me to do. I miss my cat.

But above everything else?

My birthday is at the end of the month.

It's a big one. A nice round numbered one. And one that has me feeling unaccomplished. Displaced. Stuck.

Most people reflect on their lives around New Year's day, when they are trying to better themselves, but birthdays are when I really get thinking. Is this it for me? Am I where I'll be for the next five or ten years? Is the dissatisfaction warranted? Or am I just acting foolish? Maybe everyone feels this way every now and again.

It still doesn't change the fact that I want to overhaul everything. Shake things up. And stop watching my life pass me by. Honestly, I don't know where I'll be in a year, and I am fully aware fretting and toiling over these things are useless. There's no guarantee on tomorrow, but today just seems unsatisfying, and it's barely started.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not always like this, but for some reason, I am supremely unstoked lately. Not even the promise of birthday cake on the horizon can rectify that.

And that's another thing. Why are birthdays so disappointing for me? I don't know if I've ever had an amazing one. On one hand, I don't want to be alone, but on the other I don't want to plan something for myself. Guess I'm just lazy. And I suspect that's the culprit of most of my issues these days. Laziness.

Maybe this is what they mean when they talk about the birthday blues.

Help?!

Why do I have such a problem asking for help?

My knee-jerk reaction would be to say it is because I've been let down in the past. That I have asked for help and not received any. Or not received the right kind of help. Half-hearted help. Forced, I-don't-really-want-to-be-doing-this help. Help that comes with begging or the expectation that you have to do something in return.

This might be the case...you know, if I ever asked for help. If the words actually left my lips. But they haven't. I simply don't ask. Sometimes it is offered without me asking, which is ideal, but even then...it's just as hard for me to accept it. Asking and accepting. Two things I apparently don't do very well.

Except, this all runs deeper than the fear of being disappointed and knowing it's easier to just struggle through alone.

Some might blame this on a strange little thing called my independent womanhood. You see, I was raised to do things for myself. And it pays to take care of yourself. My fierce need to be independent is ingrained in me. It's hard to shake. Asking for help threatens that, doesn't it? No, of course it doesn't! Still, I'm determined to be self-sufficient. I don't need anyone to take care of me. Well, not right now...

But what happens when I need help for reals? When I do need to be taken care of? When I'm sick? In pain? Lost? Broken? Will I just suffer in silence? Or wait until someone offers, only to tell them to piss off, while secretly hoping they will insist further?

Last night, stretched out in bed, I realized it's more than my desire to be independent. I'm not all that worried about losing it. I've been playing this game alone for so long that it will always be my natural settling point. And, just between us, I want to be taken care of. I want to have someone else tend to my needs, to have a person to rely on. I don't necessarily want to be alone, a team of one, flying solo. It's easy for me offer up support and help, but to take it? That's where I balk. Screech to a halt. Grind to a stop. Get the cold sweats.

Weird, right?

I mean, if it isn't fear of disappointment or losing my independent womanhood, what could it possibly be?

Simply put, I don't want to be an inconvenience. The idea of someone having to stop what they are doing or take time out of their day to help me actually causes me physical discomfort. As strange as it may sound, I don't want to be a burden. I don't want them to be annoyed about it, like I'm ruining their plans. I don't want someone helping me when they really don't want to, when they have better things to do. Just the act of someone picking me up closes my throat and makes me want to burrow into a hole and hide myself with leaves and twigs.  Especially if it is dark, and rainy, and only one headlight works. All I can think about is how not worth the trouble I am.

I loathe causing other people angst, annoyance, strife, worry, sadness or a disruption.

Okay, at the end of the day, all three of these things contribute to my anxieties over asking for help. My independent womanhood, the fear of being disappointed and not wanting to be an inconvenienced all exacerbate my already ridiculous inability to vocalize my wants and needs. So, what can I do?
How the heck should I know? I write the posts, I don't solve my problems. Sometimes it's unawesome to be so self aware. I guess all I can do is work through it.

Here and now, I vow to ask for help today. Well, maybe not today, but tomorrow for sure. And if not tomorrow...Friday. For sure. And the next time someone offers help, I'm going to take it. Even if it is for something silly.

Lately, it's become very clear that I'm difficult...and human.  

Z Is For Zygotes

Just kidding. It's for zombies.

The brain-eating, flesh dropping, rotting walking dead that we all know and love.

Wait, you do love zombies, right? I hate to speak for you, but I naturally assumed everyone and their mother loves the living dead. Granted, my mother doesn't love the living dead. In fact, she doesn't like horror movies at all. It has something to do with them being unhealthy for our brains and creating bad vibes. Like you shouldn't see those horrible things, even if they are fake.

And I don't necessarily disagree with her. But it just so happens that horror is my favourite genre, right above romantic comedies, and zombies are my best mates. Old chums, really.

Except, there was a time when zombies weren't so popular. In the last decade, the undead have risen in the monster ranks. They have now been crowned king of the prom. No longer are they B-horror players. Movies, graphic novels, video games, television programs and books, zombies are saturating our entertainment field. And I'm not complaining. Honestly, I think it's gore-ific. People even gather together in different cities to do zombie-walks. Even more awesome, are the zombie themed scavenger hunts and obstacle courses out there.

But what is it about them that people love so much?

Well, I can only speak for myself, but it basically comes down to the fact that zombies are us. They are scary because we are only a bite or blood spatter away from fine-dining on our own siblings. Not only that, but zombies often bring with them the apocalypse. This is another fascinating prospect for mankind. The end of the world? Sign us up. We all fancy ourselves survivors. We envision ourselves with amazing weapons, badass clothing and an attitude that will get us out of anything. No one wants to confront the fact that they're most likely going to become zombie fodder.

And why are we so invested in the end of the world?

Firstly, it's because of all the free stuff. Imagine not having to pay for anything ever again? Secondly, I suspect it has something to do with guilt. Look at what we are doing to the world. There has to be some sort of fallout? It might as well be an economic crash, followed by a rare and lethal virus, and ending with a select few socially detached individuals kicking ass and taking names. That's why we are always to blame. Whether it is big business, government, military, or most likely, a nut bar scientists trying to create a virus that makes people angry as hell, we are all to blame because we stand by and let these things happen. So, what is our punishment? Other than the crippling guilt we experience on a day to day basis. Zombies. A lot of them. And they are hungry. For our brains.

In many ways, people subconsciously think we deserve the zombie apocalypse. Especially, Christians. Okay, okay, I was just teasing. Kind of. Zombies are in fact sort of biblical. Wait, you might say, zombies are in the bible? Well, kind of. At least the prediction that they're going to be making an appearance one day. I mean, Zechariah 14:12 clearly has some zomb-tastic undertones going on:

"And the LORD will send a plague on all the nations that fought against Jerusalem. Their people will become like walking corpses, their flesh rotting away. Their eyes will rot in their sockets, and their tongues will rot in their mouths." 

What do we draw from this?

God is pissed people messed with Jerusalem. And, technically, still are. And zombies, or at least the idea of them, have been around for a long time. But where did the word, or term, 'zombie' come from? Dr. Google tells me this word is found in Haitian folklore and Voodoo. This folklore also tells us that zombies are walking corpses. Except, isn't that what vampires and mummies are too? Not to mention ghouls, which we all learned about when I did the riveting 'G' posting earlier this month. Monster genealogy is more complex than I anticipated. All of these creatures are different, but they are all dead corpses walking around.

To tell you the truth, I can only surmise they are different because of their location, the mythology that surrounds them, and probably they way they die and are brought back to life. It's all about location, location, location. And wound dressing. And who bit who.

A bit more folklore from Haiti...

Apparently, way over there in the Caribbean  it was thought that a sorcerer could steal the soul of someone who has died recently and bring them back to life to do their bidding. This would really cut down on the housework. I'd just give them a list of chores to do. All jokes aside, the Haitians don't believe the zombies are what pose the real danger here, but the master of the zombie. Interesting, no?

At the end of the day, zombies are entertaining. And I think we identify with them. The soulless drone, constantly on the go, no sleep, just work work work. It's how I feel Monday to Friday. And the zombie apocalypse has a certain appeal because we envision it to be this awesome world of looting and survival of the fittest. That's all fantasy. In reality, the majority of people would be curled in the foetal position, crying out for their mommies. Unfortunately, their mommies will most likely be trying to eat them.

Y Is For Youth

It's not true that Halloween is for youngsters.

At the end of the day, while kids do adore the costumes and candy, I think the holiday is embraced by adults more than our munchkin counterparts. Yes, I did just refer to myself as an adult. And, if you were wondering, it did feel weird.

Why is this?

Because Halloween allows for adults to act like children. We get to dress up, hangout with our friends, eat candy and freak ourselves out. It's okay to be afraid. To scream. Hide our faces in the pillow. Sit in the middle of the floor surrounded by a mountain of candy wrappers and play with a Oujia board.

It's the only Holiday, that isn't really a holiday, and it makes us feel young again. It isn't financially draining like Christmas. Or reflective like New years. Or depressing like Remembrance Day. Or riddled with expectations like Valentine's Day. And, unlike our birthdays, it promotes feeling young.

It's the one day of the year where it is all about fun. Oh, and it's the only day of the year where you're encouraged to scare children. Your own. Others. It doesn't matter. Your job is to freak out kids. Especially teenagers.

Not to mention, there are things the kids can't do, so it actually pays to be older on Halloween. No, I'm not talking about drinking games or trampy costumes. (Don't even get me started on my sexy kitten, cop, or nurse rant) I'm thinking about scary movies that are 18A. Haunted houses with age restrictions. Rides where you have to be a certain height. Themed bars and night clubs. Buying fireworks. The uncensored versions of ghost stories. Eating a whole pumpkin pie and not answering to anyone but yourself.

See, there are advantages to being old. Even though it might not feel like it most of the year.

This year, I don't have massive plans for Halloween. I plan on handing out candy and watching John Carpenter's Halloween. Yes, this is low key, but I can't think of anything I want to do more. Seeing the kids all dressed up. Giving handfuls of candy to five-year-olds. Listening to firecrackers being set off. Curled up with a scary movie. The smell of burnt pumpkin and rain-soaked pavement. The wind howling.

Sounds perfect to me.

What are your plans?

(And can you believe tomorrow is 'Z'?)

X Is For Xenoglossia

Uh, xenoglossia? What now?

Xenoglossia, or Xenoglossy, is the ability claimed by mediums and clairvoyants that allows them to speak, and write, languages they are unfamiliar with. It can happen when they channel spirits and otherworldly beings.

This, of course, isn't the most scientific or popular explanation of the word, just the one that ties in nicely with my October themed blog challenge. What? Don't give me that look. I fully intend to share with you what most people consider Xenoglossia to be.

Basically, from what I understand, most who experience this marvel aren't doing it while in a trance or religion-related act, but while in a 'normal' state of mind, performing every day activities. The people who have done studies on these happenings have found that there is often a manifestation of secondary personalities and the 'normal' personality is often unaware of their secondary one. In these cases, the other language is most often fragmented and limited, with only very few being native-like and highly developed. While the first instance can be reasoned away by learning bits and bobs of language through television programs or books or a neighbour who speaks in another tongue, the latter is a bit harder to explain.

And then there is the paranormal explanation. Some people believe xenoglossia is an indicator of reincarnation, as well. But how can one even prove this? You either believe in it, or you don't. Kind of like demons and the devil.

Yup, that's right. Possession.

So, it's Friday night and you're standing around your sister who just happens to be possessed and you decided it's time to get a priest in and expel the evil spirit. Nothing like a possession to kick start your weekend. There you are, priest on you left, praying mother on your right, and sister with a spinning head in the middle of the bed. All of a sudden, she starts talking. At first you're like, "Hey, Sis, speak up, I have no idea what your saying." But then you realize, it isn't English.

It's Latin. And it's creeping you out.

Well, that's xenoglossia too. It's the sudden acquisition of a language not previously spoken. In a lot of reported cases, the person who is experiencing this unique phenomenon is speaking a dead language.  And by a lot of reported cases, I mean, in a lot of movies. While people do become possessed and exorcisms have been done in the real world, I'm drawing most of my information from films, mostly the Exorcist.

That said, my mom insists my dad speaks another language in his sleep.

Something similar to this strange occurrence is called glossolalia, which is known as speaking in tongues. This is often seen at religious services. When people are being saved and having fits and babbling incoherently. If you don't know what I'm talking about, look up a documentary called Jesus Camp. It's one of the most terrifying films I've ever seen in my entire life. And it's real.

Okay, now that we know what Xenoglossia is, let's explore whether it is real.

Well, as a matter of fact, a lot of people say 'no'. In almost all cases of xenoglossia, the dead or unknown language turns out to be no language. Meaning, it's all made up. Sure, it sounds all spooky and crazy, with convincing cadence and intonations, but it's just gibberish. That doesn't mean the possessed or medium or clairvoyant is faking it. A lot fo people think of this phenomenon as psychological and not linguistic. People who have undergone brain studies while experiencing this strange happening have shown to be using the emotion parts of their brains, rather than the speech sections.

So, there you have it. Xenoglossia. Fun for the whole family.

Now, a snippet from Stigmata.

W Is For Winter

Wait, how could an October themed challenge have a post about winter? Pretty easily. I made it so. Even though October, November and a fair portion of December are all technically Autumn, the latter two feel like winter. We associate seasons more with how the weather is than what month it happens to be. So, when November takes the nose-dive in temperature, we start feeling like it's winter. And thus, we have a tie in with October, because it's the month before November and, in the back of heads, there is a nagging voice telling us that "Winter is coming". And not only because the new season of Game of Thrones will be starting and 'Winter is coming' is the motto of House Stark. But because winter is in fact coming.

A lot of us have mixed feelings about it.

Shorter days. The urge to hibernate. Coldness. Numb noses and fingers and toes. Increased heating bills. Nervous driving. Near accidents. Greyness. Depressed people. Spending money you don't have on people who are ungrateful.

Okay, okay. Maybe I don't have mixed feelings on the subject. And Winter isn't so much coming as it is looming in the distance, taunting. October is my favourite month. Well, the colder it gets, the crankier I get. So, I am writing this post in an effort to cheer you all up, and myself. And I am doing a bang up job, aren't I? I bet you all feel warm and cosy now.

Except, there are wonderful things about winter. Give me a moment to think them up.

All right, here we are. The top ten things for you (or me) to look forward to this Winter:

1. Christmas Movies - I may not be a huge Christmas fan, but I do love these holiday movies. The Muppets Christmas Carol being at the top of the list.

2. The first snow fall. No matter how annoying and slushy snow becomes that first snow fall is absolutely beautiful.

3. More cuddling. Cold weather = more cuddling. Whether that is with your friends, a dog or a cute boy, it doesn't matter. All that matters is stealing someone else's body heat to make yourself more comfortable.

4. Food. Ever noticed how people feed you more in the Winter? Well, that's a bright side. The extra pounds you put on aren't, but we will deal with those come Spring.

5. Winter clothing. I love toques, mittens, and scarves. Not to mention hoodies. Winter gives us a chance to bundle up and look all cute and adorable in our snow gear.

6. Hot beverages. While most of us tend to drink tea and coffee throughout the year, the winter really promotes the consumption of other beverages. Ones we don't think about in the dead heat of Summer like hot cocoa, apple cider, hot toddies and eggnog lattes. (I actually don't know if eggnog lattes exist. I might have just made that up)

7. Ugly sweaters. We are allowed to dress in hideous sweaters throughout this season without being judged. Actually, ugly sweaters are almost mandatory.

8. Fire. I love fireplaces. It's such a shame they are phasing them out and putting gas ones in homes these days. This is why I want to buy an older house so I can have a real fireplace. The smell of word burning and the warmth that comes off a fire is one of the only reasons I visit people in the winter months. I myself have a fireplace, but it is gas. And not too thrilling.

9. Lights. The colder it gets the more lights go up. And I do love lights. Driving around. Looking at all the crazy houses. It's one of the nicer parts of Christmas.

10. The promise of Spring. Okay, maybe this is a cop out, but we do have something to look forward to. Spring thaw. When the snow and evil ice goes away and in its place only lovely greenery is left. Oh, how I am longing for the greenery. And the snow hasn't even fell yet. Probably not a good sign.

With all this said, it is a urban myth that more people kill themselves in the winter time. Grey's Anatomy taught me that people don't actually commit suicide more, because they don't want their families to witness it. But it is truth that people become more depressed. And I don't blame them. Let's just try to keep our chins up and our naughty bits warm. We certainly don't want them falling off.

And if Jack Skellington can get behind Winter and Christmas, so can we!

V Is For Vampire

Good old Dracula used to be the most famous of all the vampires but seems to have handed his cobwebbed crown off to the emo vamp Edward. This fills me with sadness. When I was a girl, vampires were something to be feared. A creature? In the night? Living in a coffin? That can turn into a bat? Who wants to suck your blood? It used to be frightening to think about. Now it's all perfect hair and trendy clothes and not ageing and getting all gross looking when they miss a feed. 

And it used to be the sun was our friend. Even that's been taken away from us. The myths have been rewritten. These creatures of the night no longer burst into flames and burn from the inside out during daylight hours. No. They have creams to protect them. And special rings. Some of them don't even burn at all. They sparkle. Which is a bit ridiculous. Since when is being covered in gold stripper sparkles terrifying?

Some of the new breed of vampires don't even sleep in coffins! I know. Isn't that tragic? 

Almost as tragic as the whole bat thing. What bat thing, you might ask. The non-existent one, obviously. Bats haven't been likened to vampires since the cult classics. Where did it go? I'm not too sure. I think it made them less appealing for paranormal romancers and thus went the way of sunlight being a threat. I mean, you can't have a swoon-worthy vampire hanging out at the local hotspot, picking up chicks, and have them changing into bats or bursting into flames and burning to death. All that ash and bat poop simply isn't attractive.  

Yes, I mock. Because vampires are no longer a threat. Everyone seems to want to date them, not stake them. The things is, I don't think we can place all the blame on Twilight and the Sookie Stackhouse series. It's actually a combined effort from a lot of different sources. Interview with a Vampire and Buffy the Vampire Slayer all played a part in vampires morphing from predators to gentleman callers. I mean, what fourteen-year-old in 2002 didn't want to date Angel? And let's face it, Louis de Pointe du Lac and Lestate de Lioncourt were prettier than any girl on their wedding day. Those locks. The flawless complexions. Not to mention their lusty appetite for women. 

But they still sucked blood. Human blood. Their sharp teeth and ruthless mealtime manners made them terrifying. As vampires should be. 

That's the thing, though, I don't think it's wrong to have pretty vampires. No, no, no. It's part of the myth. And vamps have always had the ability to make the human-folk swoon. Mind control, mind compulsion, hypnosis, glamour. Whatever you call it, our feeble minds have always been weak to the ways of these blood suckers. Which was another reason they were so dangerous. 

These days, vampires don't feel dangerous. They are too busy going to school, driving Volvos, eating in diners, looking for synthetic blood, dining on animals, hanging out in sunlight and falling in love and acting like petulant children to feel dangerous. 

People can go ahead and disagree with me too, but there is no way any woman would ever have considered dating Nosferatu. I mean...can you imagine if tweenie-boppers had this guy's picture on their walls? 

I'd actually pay good money to see that happen. 

In the end, I fear there is no fear. Perhaps we should start a movement to bring back the original blood suckers. To reinstate the terror and remove vampires from the romance genre and return them to horror where they rightfully belong. Come on, say it with me, "Stake Don't Date". 

It's my new motto. Pretty awesome, right? 

I'm also making t-shirts up that say "Bring Back Drac". Has a certain ring to it, doesn't it? Make your orders here. 

U Is For Unnerving (Or Uncomfortable)

Why do people love Halloween so much? 

Is it the costumes and candy? The special editions of their favourite television shows? The Horror movies? Or decorations? 

Much like Christmas, Halloween has a huge following - some might even say it is cultish - but it isn't the warm, let's all hold hands and show each other we love one another feelings. It's being unnerved. Uncomfortable. Creeped out. Terrified. Frightened. 

In this month, North Americans will spend millions of dollars on spooky costumes, haunted attractions, scary movies and anything that will give them a thrill and chill. It is ingrained in us to believe we should avoid our fears. Close our eyes at the frightening parts. Run away from the bad. Except these days people disregard the most common learned behaviour and chose to embrace their fears instead of run away from them. And that is because we love being scared. And that's exactly what October is selling. 

Human beings are funny creatures. We need to explore what we do not know, and we go out of our way to try and master situations that are threatening or dangerous. This comes down to control. As we approach losing control, we get a bigger thrill, more satisfaction. Of course, we would be insane to try to do this in real life. If someone is chasing us with a knife, we are going to run...unless we have a death wish. So, while we love the thought of facing danger and staring down evilness, we also want to have safety. 

Here enters artificially created horror that won't actually harm us. It certainly isn't the same. No, not at all. But it still produces the adrenaline spike we crave. The prickling of skin. Uncontrollable giggles. Shiver up our spine. Manic laughter. Cringing in our seats. We love these feelings because ultimately they make us feel alive. Whenever there is a race in our heart and a rush in our blood, we are reminded that we are here, participating. 

And we love that reminder. 

More so than being alive, horror and Halloween allow us to explore the unknown (another 'U' word). We revel in the darker side of life. That which we do not understand, and which might not even exist, excites us. There's a reason vampires are so popular and ghost stories are shared around camp fires. The supernatural enthrals us. What is even more interesting is that this curiosity for the mystical, mysterious and macabre only grows as we get older. Though some children are fascinated by witches and ghosts, their fixation with it pales in comparison to adults. 

Often, children are less afraid than the grown-ups surrounding them. This can be attributed to the fact that kids don't  understand the reality of life and live in a fantasy land where everything is going to be okay. Adults, on the other hand, know all too well how harmful the world can be. It's this fear of being hurt that makes us react the way we do to horror films, roller-coasters and anything else that has elements of danger. 

On the surface, Halloween appears to be a holiday for children, but this isn't true. If you dig a little deeper, you will see that this month long event is geared towards adults.

T Is For Trick Or Treating

It's been a long time since I've gone door-to-door asking strangers for candy. Well, at least with me dressed in a costume. I'd probably say over a decade if it didn't date me. The whole idea of sending our most precious things (children) out into the world, sometimes unattended, to knock on strangers doors and ask them for candy, therefore breaking the number one rule of "don't take candy from strangers" amazes and amuses me.

Don't get me wrong, I find it a delight that this tradition of Halloween has lasted. Not only because it was the one thing I looked forward to as a child, but also because it has such a nostalgic feeling around. And it's cool. Super cool.

Now the act of doing this, of trick-or-treating, actually goes by anther name, which I didn't know. This name is Guising. And apparently, us up in North America were late to the game. Halloween became a customary tradition in and around the 1950s, but was actually around since the 1920's, though the saying Trick or Treat wasn't used until 1934. But you see, the act of going door to door for food already existed in Great Britain and Ireland and was called 'souling'. Children and poor folk would sing and say prayers for the departed, meaning the dead, in hopes of receiving cake. And 'guising' has been earliest recorded in Scotland in 1895 and is when masqueraders carried lanterns made out of turnips and went to homes in order to be rewarded by cakes, fruits and money.

Money and cake? Now we're talking. I think that's something all of us can get behind.

That said, even though Guising and Souling predate Trick-Or-Treating, it is the North American version that is prevalent today. Even Mexico has embraced Halloween and this ideology. They call it Calaverita (Spanish for 'little skull') and instead of saying 'trick or treat' the kids say "Can yu give me my little skull?" (in Spanish, though). People then hand out tiny skulls made out of sugar or chocolate. That's the spirit.

 Alright, so I am going to share a little slice of my childhood here, because we've learned enough about the act or tick-or-treating and everyone loves it when I get personal. Right? Okay, let's move on. My father doesn't call it trick-or-treating. We never really did. In our household, or at least by my dad, we referred to it as Halloweening. I think it is from my father that I have adopted tacking 'ing' onto things in order to make them verbs.

So, can I have some cake now?

S Is For Skulls

A lot of these posts often reflect on when I was a little girl and have a tedious amount of yammering in them. I fear it's boring. Well, I don't fear it. Honestly, I don't give a crap. Lately, I've come to realize the posts and videos I do are more for me than anyone else. And that isn't because the lack of interaction. Or maybe it is. Mostly it's because I use these spaces as a way to clear my head, kind of like how teenagers use diaries. In this day and age, blogging and vlogging is like having a diary. Except you show the world.

And really, when it comes to mine, the jokes on the world.

Wait, what am I talking about? Oh, right, skulls.

Bones excite me. Whenever I find them at the beach or in the forest, I want to know what kind of animal they are from, or person. Unfortunately, I'm not scientificy enough to be able to tell if it is avian, reptilian, human or from another mammal. Unless there's still skin involved, then it isn't about the bones and more about the flesh and guts. Or if there is a wing. If a bony wing is involved I can put my deerstalker on and figure out it's from a bird.

That said, I have a lot of skulls, fake ones, around my house. Instead of writing about why I like skulls, (becuase they are cool and everything should appreciate what holds and protects the brain, I have decided to give you pictures. Here are some of the skulls and skully things you can find around my house:

Cat Skull:

Sidekick Skull. This is not my Sidekick's skull, (a little small for that) but he gave it to me: 

Snowglobe Skull: 

Glass skull:

Candle Holder Skull: 

Mr. and Mrs Skull:

Pirate Ship Mast Skull:

Necklace Skull:

Bracelet Skull:

Keychain Skull:

Fruit Bowl Skull:

Coffee Cup Skull:

As you can see, I have a healthy amount of skull stuff around the old homestead. This isn't really even the half of it, but I didn't want to do too much digging. Skulls are a key component to any good Halloween. And, apparently, home decor.

If all goes as planned, I'll see you tomorrow for 'T'!

R Is For Rotting

Of course, a lot of you are probably thinking I'm going to start yammering on about hacked off body parts and gooey gashes, and I might. But when I selected 'rotting' for the subject, I was actually thinking off the change in season, not gory slasher flicks or reanimated corpses. 

Everything on the forest floor is turning to rot and the scent of decaying undergrowth is present. The earth is squishy beneath your feet. Every step you take there is a squish and, when you take another, a squash. Mud takes over. The grass is drowned in the autumnal showers. Plants, flowers, leaves and trees wither, their branches droop, the buds and petals fall to the ground, and start to disappear, desperate to avoid the long winter months. 

They say spring and summer are the most colourful, and that might be true, but Autumn is gorgeous, even with the vast amount of decomposition. The oranges and yellows, browns and greens, reds and purples. And, yes, it rains more than a widow cries, but when the sun shines through, it illuminates nature, setting fire to it and capturing the spark of the season. 

And the skeletal leaves are amazing. Have you ever seen one? A rotting, ageing leaf? The flesh dropping away exposing only the veins. They litter the ground, shadows of their former selves, and are macabre and beautiful. It truly is breathtakingly gorgeous. 

The sights of summer rotting and falling away are one thing, but the smells are another. In a vlog I posted about a month ago, I commented on how I could smell fall. It was only a hint, but I picked up on it, and in less than a week the leaves and air had shifted. Summer was moving to the side and Autumn was storming in, unpacking its bags and making itself cosy for the next couple months. It's the shift in season that I smelled, but as it grows stronger, it's rotting. Not of flesh. As we all know, that is a stench one can't get rid of. Or maybe we all don't know that. 

No, the scent is of rotting leaves, fungi, branches, bark, and everything else that falls away. 

This is a depressing time for people. To see everything shift and change. The warmth drifts away. Cold storms in. Colours shift from vibrant colours to browns and blacks. Our tans fade. And we start worrying about Christmas. But it doesn't depress me. Not the rain. Or the death of the foliage around me. It's actually invigorating. 

And just think about how lovely the spring will be when it arrives and the buds of life start peaking out from beneath the layer of cobweb leaves. 

Just for the record, it was really hard not to talk about flesh bits dropping off bone, but I decided to save that for the letter 'Z'. I know you're all waiting for that with your breath held in anticipation. 

Q Is For Quilts

Oh, what a boring topic, one might think, but I think I need a break from horror. Not an extended one. A mini one. Besides, the topic to this challenge was not Halloween, it was October. Therefore, I feel I must touch on something other than the macabre and terrifying, in order to keep the people who aren't interested in slasher movies reading. I'm sure thick blankets will do it.

I just rolled my eyes at myself.

Here's the thing, I love quilts. Especially patchwork ones.

I do have a favourite quilt. I've had it forever and it is all patched up. The unfortunate thing, I washed it and my washer ate it. Now there is a big hole in it. I honestly didn't think that could happen! Even though in July my sidekick told me his washing machine ate his sleeping bag so he didn't have one to bring camping. I thought he was lying. You know, in order to share my sleeping bag. Apparently, he might have been telling the truth.

Perhaps I need to give more people the benefit of the doubt.

Anyway, back to the subject at hand.

With October comes a dip in weather, one most people get a bit angsty about, but not I. The chill in the air is one of my most cherished parts of this month. Finally, it cools off and out come the blankets and quilts. They smell a bit musty but work the same way. You wrap and bundle and cozy up. It's far more comforting.

You see, there are certain things that are made better simply by a quilts presence. Tea drinking is one of them. Book reading. Listening to the rain tap on the window. Watching scary movies. The list goes on and on, but at the top of it is cuddling. Yes, I said cuddling. Though I haven't been the biggest cuddler in the past, I'd like to stress how important a quilt and cool weather is to this activity.

For limbs to be intertwined, for comfort to be had, you cannot be sweaty and hot. It just doesn't work. No one likes the feeling of damp skin on damp skin, or sticking to the couch, or the smell of stink from being too warm. In order to cuddle properly, you need a blanket and the temperature to dip. That's what October and Autumn and blustery weather is all about. The promotion of cuddling.

And for everyone who was wonder, the summer is the promotion of getting off your lazy duff and getting outside.

Thankfully, patchwork quilts do have a place all year round. At least over here on the West Coast of Canada. You can take them camping and use them to curl up around a fire. The only down side to this is when you accidentally light them on fire.

I think I want to learn how to quilt.

And thus ends my haphazard 'Q' post for my October A-Z Blog Writing Challenge.

P Is For Pinhead

Because I motored on past H for Hellraiser and C and B for Clive Barker.

I know. I suck.

Horror author, Clive Barker, has been one of my favourites since I read the story The Hellbound Heart when I was a little girl. For those of you who do not know, the Hellbound Heart was turned into a little film called Hellraiser and, like the story, it revolved around a mysterious puzzle box and the terrible things it does to those who encounter it. When you open the box, the Cenobites come, and they have such sights to show you.

Are you sitting there wondering what a Cenobite is?

Well, they are extra-dimensional beings that take the form of ritually mutilated creatures that have just enough human characteristics so we can identify with them. Sort of. I mean, I can relate to them. They only come here, to Earth, through time and space, which is where the puzzle box comes into play because it acts as a portal. The Cenobites are basically harbingers of pain (and pleasure). It's kind of like their job to torture people. And you thought your work was painful!

The design for these otherworldly creatures came from a few different sources. Mr. Barker drew from punk, Catholicism and the SM clubs he visited in New York and Amsterdam to perfect the Cenobites look and feel. The four main Cenobite in the Hellbound Heart  were all featured in the film Hellraiser. Interestingly enough, Clive was so dissatisfied with how his past works had turned out in film, that he took on the role as director for Hellraiser. In the end, he crafted some seriously awesome looking creatures, but I've always wonder if their clothing was made out of leather or pleather. It's so hard to tell with today's synthetic materials.

While Butterball, Chatterer and the Female all have a certain je ne sais quoi about them, it is Pinhead that truly tickles my fancy. But when I say this, I am talking about Hellraiser, the movie, because though Pinhead was in The Hellbound Heart, he was portrayed as a sexually ambiguous follower and was describe to have a breathy voice, almost that of a little girl. Not quite the commanding denizen of hell that we know and love. Even more, he actually only appeared in the first part of the novella whereas in the films he was the main focus and viewed as the leader of the Cenobites. Overtime, Pinhead has become one of the most memorable, and witty, villains of the beloved horror genre.

Oh, the word on the street is that Clive Barker didn't like the name Pinhead and, in the first film, Doug Bradley (the dude under the pins) was actually credited simply as 'lead cenobite'. No, it's true. Just watch the credits.

Anyway, what makes Pinhead so great?

Not too sure, to be honest. There's something about Mr. Bradley, (who happens to be a school chum of Clive Barker) his voice and movements, that commandeers the viewers attention. I can't think of a better person to have played this role. His emotionless eyes. The glint off the pins driven into his skull. Or the matter-of-fact way in which he speaks. To Pinhead, everything is so simple. And, unlike a lot of the other 1980s horror antagonists, Pinhead was depicted as intelligent and articulate. Not to mention reasonable. Well, at least I thought so.

The thing is, Pinhead doesn't seek out people to kill or hurt. He has to be summoned! Of course, once the silly puzzle solver, or hedonist, opens the Lament Configuration, Pinhead does enjoy the torture that follows. But it's all in the territory. It's the sadomasochist in him. He tortures with the intention of inflicting both pain and pleasure. That sort of puts him in a whole other twisted category.

And man, did that dude have some awesome lines.



Your suffering will be legendary. Even in Hell.

On that note, see you tomorrow!

O Is For Owl

Because I am an upfront, honest kind of girl, I'll admit that I wanted to write about octopuses for 'O' and spend a good solid day and a half trying to figure out how to tie it in to October. I couldn't. Except that octopus and October both start with Oct. And really, that's not enough to draft up a five hundred word post that will keep people entertained.

Then, I remembered the owl. I am ashamed to admit this creature fell to the back of my mind. It wasn't until I typed in 'Halloween words' into Google that I was reminded of them. Fantastically, they do line up with October and my theme here. So, owls it is.

What an interesting load of babble.

My love for owls comes from my mother. She had this amazing owl collection, courtesy of my dad, and I used to go through the pendants and figurines, marvelling over them. Truth be told, the mystery surrounding this creature is really what I find most enjoyable. Is it good? Or bad?

Well, that depends on who you ask.

Like the Greeks. The owl was the favourite creature of Athene, Goddess of Wisdom. Perhaps this is how the saying 'wise old owl' came to be. But the Greeks revered the owl, encouraging them to live in their temples, and the Acropolis housed a vast number of this avian bigwig. Not only was it considered to be wise, it was also thought to be a protector. If an owl was seen flying over an army before battle, victory was just around the corner.

Of course, the Romans thought a bit differently about owls. And by a bit, I mean a heck of a lot. Unlike the Greeks, they believed the owl to be from the underworld and harbingers of evil and doom. The hoot of an owl was a precursor to death and the Romans actually believed witches transformed into owls for the soul purpose of sucking the blood of babies. Clearly, there were some hallucinogenic drugs being ingested. So, what did they do to ward off the evil owls? They nailed a dead one to their front doors as a warning to evil forces.

English folklore aligned more with the Romans than the Greeks, surprise-surprise, and owls were once more considered sinister creatures. After all, they hunted in the night, and the night is when all bad things happen, so obviously owls were evil. And the Irish, well, they didn't help matters along. They thought owls to be unlucky and if one made the unfortunate mistake of flying into your house, you were supposed to kill it. If it was allowed to escape with its life it would take all your luck with it. That said, I'd like to take a moment to note in the Northern parts of England and Scotland, where the Romans did not conquer, it was good luck to see an owl.

So, how did the owl come to be a part of Halloween?

Well, kind of like how the bat did. Like bats, owls would often be seen at Halloween and pagan rituals in search of food. Due to their nocturnal habits and how they lived in the hallows of trees, people were often scared of them. Besides, anyone who is anyone knows the cat and owl are a witch's companion. Well, that's mostly because people think the owl's screech sounds like a witch's cackle. 

And Grimms' fairy tales only helped to perpetuate this myth. Here is an excerpt from their story Jordina and Joringel:

There was once an old castle in the midst of a large and dense forest, and in it an old woman who was a witch dwelt all alone. In the day-time she changed herself into a cat or a screech-owl, but in the evening she took her proper shape again as a human being. She could lure wild beasts and birds to her, and then she killed and boiled and roasted them.

Doesn't she sound lovely and welcoming. Let's invite her in for tea and scones.

In the end, I don't give a hoot (see what I did there?) about all the folklore. I love owls. And the word owlet just tickles me.

"A wise old owl sat in an oak,

The more he heard, the less he spoke;

The less he spoke, the more he heard;

Why aren't we all like that wise old bird?"

- A Wise Old Owl nursery rhyme

Mother Goose

N Is For Nightmare

There are three things I intend to touch on here. Not too sure how I am going to tie them together, but let's begin.

When I was a little girl (or more accurately, a teenager), I was terrified of a game called Nightmare. It was a video board game that came out in 1991 and it was set in a place simply known as 'the Other Side'. In it, there were six harbingers, each who governed a Province. Playing the game, meant that you had to take on the persona of one of the harbingers, which were a werewolf, poltergeist  mummy, zombie, witch and vampire. There was one other character in the game, the Gatekeeper. His job was to ensure you don't escape from the Other Side.

Well, maybe it doesn't sound scary, but the Gatekeeper terrified me. I don't even remember playing the game, just watching the video that game with it. In the movie, the Gatekeeper often interups the game to punish or reward players willy-nilly. There was no rhyme or reason to it. And you couldn't even win the game, the Gatekeeper just arrives and declares himself the winner. How unfair is that?

Honestly, I don't even know what terrified me so much about the silly game. But I did find the commercial on YouTube and decided you all need to watch it. You can thank me with kisses and cake.



I suppose it is kind of embarrassing admitting I was scared of this game. Oh well.

When I hear the word 'nightmare' there are two movies that come to mind. Nightmare Before Christmas and Nightmare On Elm Street. On one hand, you have Tim Burton's wonderful stop motion musical about Jack Skellington, a resident of Halloween Town, who finds a portal to Christmas Town and decides to celebrate the holiday. Things don't exactly go as planned. The other is a slasher film directed by Wes Craven that revolves around teenagers who are being stalked and killed by a man with knives for fingers, Freddy Krueger, not Edward Scissorhands.

Other than the word Nightmare in their titles, these movies have nothing in common. Unless you play the six degrees of separation game and discover that Johnny Depp is in the 1984 version of Nightmare On Elm Street and he later developed an unusually close relationship to Nightmare Before Christmas' writer Tim Burton. Maybe that's reaching though. Still, both are classic films that can be watched at either Halloween or Christmas. Okay, okay, that's a bit of a joke. Freddy Krueger isn't exactly a festive fellow.

Now I am going to leave you with a song by Fresh Prince and Jazzy Jeff. Just because it fits the whole theme.

M Is For Midnight

Not too long ago, I was conversing with a friend, and we got on the subject of 'the witching hour'. No, not the book, the term. While I thought the witching hour meant midnight, she thought it was three in the morning. After a bit of research (meaning googling), I discovered that I was right. So, I did a little dance and one or two fist pumps, then reported back to her. Even though I was correct, three AM is also an important time. This is often called the Devil's hour, as opposed to three in the afternoon, which is said to be when Jesus was crucified.

That said, I don't know if 3 PM is considered Jesus' hour or not. 

But why is midnight referred to as the witching hour? 

Well, it's though to be the time of day when supernatural creatures, like werewolves, ghosts, demons, are thought to appear. Not only that, but the rumour tells us this is the hour in which they are most powerful. It is also said to be a time when black magic is most effective. 

And while I was right about the specific hour, people often use the term 'witching hour' whenever they refer to a time when there is a higher chance of bad luck. 

So, where did this term come from? 

Well, we can thank Washington Irving's short story, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow for that. This story was published in 1820 and uses the terms 'witching hour' and 'witching time' interchangeably. Both are used to reference midnight. Of course, we all know about the story of Sleepy Hollow and the headless horseman, if not for this story, then because Johnny Depp portrayed a bumbling and queasy Ichabod Crane in Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow. 

And who can forget Christopher Walken as the headless horseman? I mean, the dude only had his head for all of a minute and a half, but the image is imprinted on my memory. Talk about pretty smiles.

To me, there has never been anything scary about midnight. While some people view it as the end of the day, I tend to think of it as the beginning of a new one. In a way, it almost calms me. Usually it's quiet, almost peaceful. Not many people are out. There's no traffic. It's just a nicer time of night. 

No wonder all the monsters choose this time to come out and play. Less humans to be annoyed by. 

L Is For Lunar

I love the moon!

Like head over heels in love with it.

To the point where, if I'm outside at night, I have to look for it. If I find it, I stop and stare up at it in awe. And if someone is with me, I have to tell them to look at the moon too.

I don't know what it is about it.

It's hanging there, big and white, either full or half or a crescent, and it is breathtaking and beautiful.

As ridiculous as it sounds, whenever I see it, my heart feels lighter. Just its existence gives me peace.
Actually, the entirety of the night sky does. It's so vast and never-ending. Without fail, every time I look up at it, I feel small and unimportant. But that's not a bad feeling. It comforts me to know that my existence is just a blip in the grand scheme of everything.

October is a fantastic month for the moon. A harvest moon is the full moon that occurs closest to the autumnal equinox. This moon often appears to be bigger or brighter, more colourful, than the other full moons. The warm orangey colour when the moon first rises is from it passing through more atmospheric particles that scatter the blue components and allows the reddish light to pass through more easily. The moon also appears bigger because it is low-hanging and out brains perceive it to be harder than when it is up in the sky. We call this the Moon illusion.

That's sciencey stuff.

Of course, we all know the moon, especially a full one, is closely tied with spooky things. Whenever people are acting strange or weird things happen, we always question weather it is a full moon. With the full moon, comes creepy situations and werewolves.

Yep, that's right. The Wolfman, one of the most notorious horror movie characters, relies on the full moon in order to take his wolfy shape. But this isn't the only role the moon plays in all things creepy. One of my most favourite Halloween images is the witch's shadow in the middle of a full moon. Usually, the witch is flying on a broom. Sometimes there is a cat on her broom. Or bats in the background.

It's kind of funny that the moon is considered this omen or source of bad luck. This is probably because people once thought that if you slept out under direct moonlight a person would go mad or blind. From this lore, the word lunatic was born, luna being moon. That said, people also believed the moon was made of silver and would jingle the change in their pockets and ask the moon to bring them wealth.

Well, I don't know if either of these are true, and in this electronic age jingling change is a bit difficult to do. But I'm going to head on outside tonight with a couple pennies in my pockets. Just in case.