Feel that tingling chill drifting through the air? Hear wind tugging at the bare tree branches? The person puking their guts out after having eaten too much candy?? Yepp, it's that time of the year again. I hope you brought the sixteen layers of wool coats your Mom forced on you to go trick-or-treating; because my argument against Halloween is about to strike a cold blow real fast.
As a little kid, I didn't exactly "like" Halloween all that much. Something miraculously changed during the past year, once I finally realized and took advantage of the fabulous candy sales-- I now have at least three full bags of chocolate stuffed in my room. My opinion of this holiday used to be not just a grim disdain but a presence of utter loathing, directly correlating to the existence of these teen "parties"- or whatever you extroverts are calling them nowadays-- and my family's "traditional" dependence on those $2 home costumes over the years including but not limited to-- ballerina, fairy, fairy ballerina, doctor, 80s chick, nerdling, and hobo (as seen in the Dennis the Menace movie). Really, the only reason I tolerated Halloween was because of the candy. And then my mother stepped into the picture, rather forcibly, consuming everything in her wake and blaming it all on the elusive "Tax Fairy". We're on to you, Mom.
After that, Halloweens went very far downhill. And for 8 distinct reasons:
1. There was a great and glorious abundance of candy. It prevails even to this day. This, for me, is no great mark against Halloween whatsoever. Bring on the cavities, I've got three times my weight in candy corn! However, the issue arises the following day, post-sugar crash. You wake up sick and fatigued, and half of your friends aren't at school. Because they're sick too, of course. It's comparable to dengue fever, except, worth it.
Now, of course, I believe that I'm responsible enough to moderate my candy consumption. Am I, really? Absolutely not!! But isn't that the fun of it?
2. My mother fervently opposed the notion of referring to Halloween as a holiday (holy-day), and firmly impressed this into all of our minds. I'm blessed to come from a very loving, downright amazing family. A drawback, however, to having my mom around on holidays is this: She only accepts an occasion as a holiday if it allows forced family bondage- I mean bonding!-- time, and if all the sweet treats can be detracted and supplemented with kale chips.
We had an interesting childhood.
3. I was always a little too versed in my history studies for the average forth grader. Did you know that Halloween originated as the Druidic holiday of Samhain, upon which it was believed that all the dead were granted passage to the world and the living wore elaborate costumes to ward off the roaming ghosts? As a nine year old, I did, and was none too pleased with the thought of spirits dragging me off into the shadows because my costume wasn't cool enough.
And then, disaster struck. My mom, inevitably, deemed the weather too cold and forced me to wear a coat that COVERED UP MY COSTUME.
Even before this, I had issues with the whole "coat or no candy" thing. This one year, I remember being excruciatingly upset at my parental units because I had to wear a jacket over my otherwise GLORIOUS costume.
4. There exist magnificently spooky things which I lack the coping mechanisms for. The unbeatable problem with me is that I hate being scared, but I'm also totally addicted to it. So, when Halloween rolls around, I get all excited about the haunted mazes and creepy decorations and stuff. Artistry, the eldritch avant-garde, everywhere!!
And then I remember, I'm me.
A similar thing happens in haunted mazes, since my adrenal response isn't "flight or fight" but "punch and then faint". Oh, and the night after scary movies.
One time when I was watching Oculus with my friends I screamed so loudly that their parents thought someone was being murdered in the basement :/
5. It's a war zone out there. Stampedes of children are trampling each other into the ground to get to the houses with the best candy. Going out with my sisters becomes the actual scariest thing I've ever done. "Ack! I almost tripped there. Oops, watch your step. Woah now, be careful. There's a two year old right in front of-" [BAM! WAH!!!]
I think we all know where the idea for the Hunger Games came from.
6. Walking door to door with other people is like trekking through the Alaskan Tundra with a person who's had their leg gnawed off by a rabid antelope-- It takes FOREVER. I'm not the slow one, I never am. It's a get in get out operation, the sole mission being the acquisition of candy in as great of amounts as humanly possible even if such a number is not remotely consumable. This is probably why I've given up on door-to-door trick-or-treating-- There's always the one who moves at the pace of an amputated snail, and they still won't stop complaining. And you're not allowed to go ahead of the group. It's just a barren stretch of nothingness invariably resulting in a total metal and physical breakdown by the fourth house. Especially in our neighborhood, where houses are set 1,000 feet back from the sidewalk, I swear...
7. Some people give out pencils and stickers. Honestly, it's more productive to go to one of those awful parties, stuff all the candy in an inconspicuous sack, and make a run for it. Chances are that people will be too focused on the actual party to notice you getting away with everything that makes a social occasion worth it: Food.
Introverts: 1 Extroverts: 0
But anyways, back to the main point. One could argue that with the merge of the Roman celebration of Pomona and the Druidic holiday Samhain to create Halloween as we now know it, and with the history of the pencil originating with the sharp metal styles of Latinic Rome, a pencil would be an appropriate gift to commemorate the holiday.
Such people, however, are the reasons I've grown cynic to the world.
No more pencils. Please. No kid goes trick or treating with the intention of rounding out their collection of writing instruments. Although, I could walk 1,000 miles for one of those mechanical ones. Maybe some Carmilla stickers, do they make those? I'm also the kind of person who would keep coming back around to the kindly old lady giving out apples. Especially if they're caramel.
8. Over the years, the various shenanigans associated with my costumes have landed me in some rare and unfortunate situations. Let me take you on a tour.
2009- Ah, yes. The first year of mischief.
And the second time I went as a fairy princess.
2010- The family consensus this year- Well, fine; parental consensus-- was to begin making our own costumes completely from materials gathered at home. This posed some challenges for me. So of course, I raided my mom's closet for some supplemental gear.
So I wore a ripped fishnet "Sex Pistols" shirt, a flamboyant tutu, glow sticks, crimped hair with scrunchies, sparkly high heels, and I think also just one glove. However true the sentence, it was apparently "entirely inappropriate." Couldn't wear it to school.
When I was ten, I thought the 80s were the coolest years of fashion ever, and that my mom had definitely been glammin' it up. After that, I didn't stop raiding her closet, seeking to emulate the totally hip style of my mom. I sincerely believed that crimped hair was still the coolest thing ever. She was proud, and looking back on the photos of that following year, I was definitely not.
2011- This is the year I started getting really into the character development of my costumes. Unfortunately, I went as a hobo.
2012- I went as the alternate reality version of myself in which I was left unattended watching Baby Einstein for much longer durations of time in my toddler years.
Explanation required? Alright, fine.
I raided my mom's closet for her "engineer wear"(white polo, khakis, loafers, and argyle socks), clumped my hair into scrunchies (which I'm apparently quite fond of, costume-wise), put tape on the bridge of circular wire glasses, and hung upside down from the bed for ten minutes so my voice would get more nasal. I really went all out.
So, every time someone would open the door, I would recite an entire script in a squeaky, nasal voice: "Hi, my name's Brianna. I'm intellectually capable." I'd sniffle and wipe the imaginary snot all over my hair. "but my mom says I'm not very social. Would you like to sign this petition against introvert abuse?"
The entirety of this monologue went on for approximately five minutes. People would close the door on me, and then I'd just knock and start all over again. Remember the movie Up? You know what scene I'm thinking of.
2013- This year I went as a peacock. Well, at least my "character development" would be dignified and graceful.... right?
Wrong. You are so, so wrong.
I won a costume contest. Ha.
2014- By this point, I'd decided that I was absolutely DONE with Halloween forever. Why? Well.... I wanted to just buy a bag of on-sale candy at the store and sit in my footie pajamas watching Nightmare Before Christmas. To my despair, I was pushed and pushed and finally convinced into a pair costume with Cody. I went as an angelic assassin with an actual saber sword. Thank goodness I didn't get too into character. We kinda modeled it after one of his favorite books, This Present Darkness; he was the embodiment of alpha and I was that of omega. Day and night. Somehow, I actually really enjoyed the party we went to. I met some amazing people and didn't figure out the rules to "Never Have I Ever" until I accidentally made myself lose. Plus, I got to smash pumpkin pie in his face on a dare. Success.
2015- I'll keep you posted, lovelies ^.^ I'm petitioning Cody to stay in and watch a scary movie (psych. it'll be another animated feature.) with me while we eat straight out of several bags of candy and end up bloated and/or barfing with what I'm sure will be pure bliss. Wearing either pajamas or full costumes, of course. He, however, probably wants to go to yet another party where we'll definitely end up in whipped cream war again or getting an abandoned TV a hitch-hike with a stranger, "for the lols".
Word of advice: For the sake of your own sanity, don't date an extrovert.
And there you have it, The INFP-certified list of reasons to loathe Halloween. But despite this, I implore you to go on absolutely adoring it! Remember all the lovely things, like pumpkin carving, haunted mazes, amazing costumes, cherished time with friends and family, stealing candy from bab--
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
As a little kid, I didn't exactly "like" Halloween all that much. Something miraculously changed during the past year, once I finally realized and took advantage of the fabulous candy sales-- I now have at least three full bags of chocolate stuffed in my room. My opinion of this holiday used to be not just a grim disdain but a presence of utter loathing, directly correlating to the existence of these teen "parties"- or whatever you extroverts are calling them nowadays-- and my family's "traditional" dependence on those $2 home costumes over the years including but not limited to-- ballerina, fairy, fairy ballerina, doctor, 80s chick, nerdling, and hobo (as seen in the Dennis the Menace movie). Really, the only reason I tolerated Halloween was because of the candy. And then my mother stepped into the picture, rather forcibly, consuming everything in her wake and blaming it all on the elusive "Tax Fairy". We're on to you, Mom.
After that, Halloweens went very far downhill. And for 8 distinct reasons:
1. There was a great and glorious abundance of candy. It prevails even to this day. This, for me, is no great mark against Halloween whatsoever. Bring on the cavities, I've got three times my weight in candy corn! However, the issue arises the following day, post-sugar crash. You wake up sick and fatigued, and half of your friends aren't at school. Because they're sick too, of course. It's comparable to dengue fever, except, worth it.
2. My mother fervently opposed the notion of referring to Halloween as a holiday (holy-day), and firmly impressed this into all of our minds. I'm blessed to come from a very loving, downright amazing family. A drawback, however, to having my mom around on holidays is this: She only accepts an occasion as a holiday if it allows forced family bondage- I mean bonding!-- time, and if all the sweet treats can be detracted and supplemented with kale chips.
We had an interesting childhood.
3. I was always a little too versed in my history studies for the average forth grader. Did you know that Halloween originated as the Druidic holiday of Samhain, upon which it was believed that all the dead were granted passage to the world and the living wore elaborate costumes to ward off the roaming ghosts? As a nine year old, I did, and was none too pleased with the thought of spirits dragging me off into the shadows because my costume wasn't cool enough.
And then, disaster struck. My mom, inevitably, deemed the weather too cold and forced me to wear a coat that COVERED UP MY COSTUME.
And then I remember, I'm me.
One time when I was watching Oculus with my friends I screamed so loudly that their parents thought someone was being murdered in the basement :/
5. It's a war zone out there. Stampedes of children are trampling each other into the ground to get to the houses with the best candy. Going out with my sisters becomes the actual scariest thing I've ever done. "Ack! I almost tripped there. Oops, watch your step. Woah now, be careful. There's a two year old right in front of-" [BAM! WAH!!!]
I think we all know where the idea for the Hunger Games came from.
6. Walking door to door with other people is like trekking through the Alaskan Tundra with a person who's had their leg gnawed off by a rabid antelope-- It takes FOREVER. I'm not the slow one, I never am. It's a get in get out operation, the sole mission being the acquisition of candy in as great of amounts as humanly possible even if such a number is not remotely consumable. This is probably why I've given up on door-to-door trick-or-treating-- There's always the one who moves at the pace of an amputated snail, and they still won't stop complaining. And you're not allowed to go ahead of the group. It's just a barren stretch of nothingness invariably resulting in a total metal and physical breakdown by the fourth house. Especially in our neighborhood, where houses are set 1,000 feet back from the sidewalk, I swear...
7. Some people give out pencils and stickers. Honestly, it's more productive to go to one of those awful parties, stuff all the candy in an inconspicuous sack, and make a run for it. Chances are that people will be too focused on the actual party to notice you getting away with everything that makes a social occasion worth it: Food.
Introverts: 1 Extroverts: 0
But anyways, back to the main point. One could argue that with the merge of the Roman celebration of Pomona and the Druidic holiday Samhain to create Halloween as we now know it, and with the history of the pencil originating with the sharp metal styles of Latinic Rome, a pencil would be an appropriate gift to commemorate the holiday.
Such people, however, are the reasons I've grown cynic to the world.
No more pencils. Please. No kid goes trick or treating with the intention of rounding out their collection of writing instruments. Although, I could walk 1,000 miles for one of those mechanical ones. Maybe some Carmilla stickers, do they make those? I'm also the kind of person who would keep coming back around to the kindly old lady giving out apples. Especially if they're caramel.
8. Over the years, the various shenanigans associated with my costumes have landed me in some rare and unfortunate situations. Let me take you on a tour.
2009- Ah, yes. The first year of mischief.
2010- The family consensus this year- Well, fine; parental consensus-- was to begin making our own costumes completely from materials gathered at home. This posed some challenges for me. So of course, I raided my mom's closet for some supplemental gear.
So I wore a ripped fishnet "Sex Pistols" shirt, a flamboyant tutu, glow sticks, crimped hair with scrunchies, sparkly high heels, and I think also just one glove. However true the sentence, it was apparently "entirely inappropriate." Couldn't wear it to school.
When I was ten, I thought the 80s were the coolest years of fashion ever, and that my mom had definitely been glammin' it up. After that, I didn't stop raiding her closet, seeking to emulate the totally hip style of my mom. I sincerely believed that crimped hair was still the coolest thing ever. She was proud, and looking back on the photos of that following year, I was definitely not.
2011- This is the year I started getting really into the character development of my costumes. Unfortunately, I went as a hobo.
2012- I went as the alternate reality version of myself in which I was left unattended watching Baby Einstein for much longer durations of time in my toddler years.
Explanation required? Alright, fine.
I raided my mom's closet for her "engineer wear"(white polo, khakis, loafers, and argyle socks), clumped my hair into scrunchies (which I'm apparently quite fond of, costume-wise), put tape on the bridge of circular wire glasses, and hung upside down from the bed for ten minutes so my voice would get more nasal. I really went all out.
So, every time someone would open the door, I would recite an entire script in a squeaky, nasal voice: "Hi, my name's Brianna. I'm intellectually capable." I'd sniffle and wipe the imaginary snot all over my hair. "but my mom says I'm not very social. Would you like to sign this petition against introvert abuse?"
The entirety of this monologue went on for approximately five minutes. People would close the door on me, and then I'd just knock and start all over again. Remember the movie Up? You know what scene I'm thinking of.
2013- This year I went as a peacock. Well, at least my "character development" would be dignified and graceful.... right?
Wrong. You are so, so wrong.
I won a costume contest. Ha.
2014- By this point, I'd decided that I was absolutely DONE with Halloween forever. Why? Well.... I wanted to just buy a bag of on-sale candy at the store and sit in my footie pajamas watching Nightmare Before Christmas. To my despair, I was pushed and pushed and finally convinced into a pair costume with Cody. I went as an angelic assassin with an actual saber sword. Thank goodness I didn't get too into character. We kinda modeled it after one of his favorite books, This Present Darkness; he was the embodiment of alpha and I was that of omega. Day and night. Somehow, I actually really enjoyed the party we went to. I met some amazing people and didn't figure out the rules to "Never Have I Ever" until I accidentally made myself lose. Plus, I got to smash pumpkin pie in his face on a dare. Success.
2015- I'll keep you posted, lovelies ^.^ I'm petitioning Cody to stay in and watch a scary movie (psych. it'll be another animated feature.) with me while we eat straight out of several bags of candy and end up bloated and/or barfing with what I'm sure will be pure bliss. Wearing either pajamas or full costumes, of course. He, however, probably wants to go to yet another party where we'll definitely end up in whipped cream war again or getting an abandoned TV a hitch-hike with a stranger, "for the lols".
Word of advice: For the sake of your own sanity, don't date an extrovert.
And there you have it, The INFP-certified list of reasons to loathe Halloween. But despite this, I implore you to go on absolutely adoring it! Remember all the lovely things, like pumpkin carving, haunted mazes, amazing costumes, cherished time with friends and family, stealing candy from bab--
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
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