my hero-filled halloween 2011

There are all sorts of memories for me that come with Halloween, or all Hallow's Eve, or Samhain if you wanna link it back to the Gaelic harvest festival.  A lot of them were overshadowed by the success of recent years in the form of over-the-top costumes and even bigger parties.  But the original memories remain, and seeing as I've been so nostalgic this year, I spent a good portion of today thinking about them while I was alone at home.

The farthest back I can remember in terms of costumes would be when I was Peter Pan... for the first time (I did it twice.  I liked the tights.)  My siblings and I grew up in a family that paid a lot of special attention to Halloween, and with a mother that was always willing to sew our costumes together for us.  Come to think of it, I don't believe I have ever had a store-bought costume (in terms of "here is the costume, all in this bag.")  There may have been some hunting at Goodwill involved, but it was always a mash up of products to achieve the final look.  I even remember dressing up as Ron Goldman when I was 11, and if you don't see the problem with that, then you don't know who he was.

The first time I wore drag was in 8th grade, with my lovely best friend Katie Reynolds.  I was a dead prom queen from the 80's, with lot's of blood and bullet holes.  Got a lot of references to Carrie that night, which was fine by me.  I figured if I wanted to get away with drag at age 13, I needed it to be gory.  The next few years were nothing incredible though, and not until Halloween of 2005 did I do drag again and that was the first "big" year.  Chicago with my bestie Kyle Conn, and I did Paris Hilton.  Covered myself in bronzer, shaved my body, had a BAD wig, and tried to rock it.  Didn't work; ended up passing out in Kyle's bedroom after topping off a sixer of... wine coolers.  Shut up.

So let's just flash forward with a quick blurb about this years costume, and then I'll get to the weekend.  Back in April I decided I was going to be Babydoll from Suckerpunch.  I knew it was a risk to be the main character from a movie that was such a failure and that no one saw, but I figured I'd be the only one (and I was) and that I would get points for another homemade costume.  Bought the fabric (over $100,) bought the wig ($35,) bought the shoes ($30,) bought the sword ($15,) and then got to work with my mom.  And giving credit where credit is due, she did a hell of a job on the jacket and constructing the skirt (though I did all of the pleating myself.)  So there, costume done.  Cost too much, but oh well; sue me.

I was able to enjoy a 3-day weekend this year, which was pretty fantastic.  What's funny is that right now, I honestly cannot remember what I did on Friday.  Like, at all.  That doesn't matter because it wasn't a big day, but I did go to sleep feeling like the next day was Christmas.  I woke up on Saturday and doddled around the house for a bit, harassing my parents and then getting to work on carving pumpkins.  Mom and I carved 9 all together, 5 for her and 4 for me, though one of mine was not grown at home and took FOREVER to cut through the rind.  After that, I had to retire to my bathroom to begin the arduous process of shaving my chest, stomach and legs.  Oy.

So an hour and lots of lotion later, I took it easy for a bit before the 3-hour ordeal of getting my makeup on commenced.  It started with covering my thighs with concealer and toning them, and then my stomach with concealer and toning it, and then by chest and toning it.  Finally I could start my face.  I enjoy looking back on  pictures from past Halloween's and seeing how far I have come in terms of my makeup application.  As Paris Hilton I looked like Courtney Love.  This year... I feel I finally struck the right note, confirmed by my mother saying as I came downstairs "Oh God, you really look like a girl."  Had a little trouble with the eyelashes that didn't want to stay glued to my fucking eyelids, but then I got my hair up, wig on, and was out the door to head to my bestie (yes another) Mark Plowman's house for dressing up and a prebar.

After a quick stop at Matt's house to setup for the party I was co-hosting with him, I shot over to Mark's and threw my costume on.  To be honest, everything came together in a way that I never imagined.  It was better than I anticipated and as soon as I got the wig on, I knew I would look exactly how I wanted.  Which was pretty great, due to the more-than-normal amount of skin I was showing and the very nature of the character. So we had a couple drinks and headed over to Matt's house.

The party was fun, though admittedly we only stayed for a little while.  My prebar drinks hit me pretty hard and my eyelash was falling off so I needed to fix it before too many people saw me looking like I had down syndrome.  My friend Cale, henceforth referred to as Superman (his costume, duh,) wanted to introduce me to his friend the Green Lantern, but we left before he arrived.  Here's where my night started getting better, which you may find odd; read on.

After crawling around on the floor of Matt's porch to turn off my fog machines, ass in the air and sword catching the spider webs, we left the party.  Mark, his boyfriend Markus, our friend Leslie and I trotted down the front steps and across the street.  Me, in my drunken stupor, decided to drop my voice a few octaves and belt out the main chorus to "Lady in Red."  As I sang "REEEEEDDDDD!" I did a high kick, felt my shoe slide out from beneath me, and then sort of careened backwards and sideways down into the gutter.  Mark turns to me, laughing and screaming "BUNS!  ARE YOU OKAY!?!?"  I am laughing so hard at this point that I can't breath, so I start nodding while peeling myself off the ground.  I think I was muttering "shit, I have leaves in my hair," but that part is kind of blurry.  I almost wiped out again next to the car but thankfully avoided that.  I will say I am glad I fell on my ass at that point, rather than in front of the bar where more than just my friends would see me, ankles to Jesus.

So back to Mark's house we went, I fixed myself up, we took a few pictures, and then headed out to the bar.  This was when I realized my camera's flash was not working, so I was fairly devastated to know that there would not be a full photo album of the evening.  Maybe it is better that way, because part of the adventure this Halloween entailed still feels like a dream to me... in a good way.  We get to the bar, order up, and after about half an hour I run into Superman.  He says his friend the Green Lantern is there and that I need to go and meet him right then.  I rolled my eyes to Mark and whoever else was around, knowing full-well how this was going to go.  "Fuck my life, I am dressed up as a (with heels) 6'6" school girl with a sword strapped across my back.  Great time to meet a guy, shaved as bare as the day I was born."

So Superman waves him down, Green Lantern turns toward us, and my stomach drops.  This is the guy he wanted me to meet for so long?  This... well he embodied a superhero, to say the least.  He comes over, says hi, and I think I just started talking a mile a minute because that's what I do when I'm nervous and slightly intoxicated.  I'm feeling around with my hand behind my back, realizing as I grab my scabbard that the sword is missing.  With a quick glance over my shoulder, I confirm it; someone stole my sword that I had customized.  Again, my stomach drops, and Green Lantern seems to notice the sadness.  I mention the sword, we talk a few minutes longer, and then one or both of us gets dragged away.

No more than twenty minutes later, the Green Lantern manifests before me... and in his hands is my sword.  I won't go into the details of every thought that ran through my mind, but I will say that they were nothing less than fantastic.  They were... I'm sure you can fill them in, actually.  He was officially my hero for the night.

The night wears on; I don't get to take or be in any pictures, I run into Kyle Conn and adore his Peg Bundy costume, and then it is time for the costume contest.  Sadly I didn't get nominated, but that's okay because you can't win all of the time.  Green Lantern, however, wins second place.  Which I feel is a better prize because it is a bar tab and not the keg party; coincidentally, it is the same position I won two years ago as the gals from Hocus Pocus with Kyle and the dreaded ex.  But I digress.

The night is almost spent, it's about 1:50, when Superman shows up again and says "Hey, Green Lantern is on the dance floor.  Come with me."  With a nervous glance to my friends who are quite literally screaming "GO!" I turned and followed, skirt swaying with my ass.  I approach, find myself at a loss for words only to have Superman exclaim "I found Babydoll!  I love awkward situations!" and then turn away from us.  So we danced a bit, we talked a bit, and my curiosity finally got the best of me and I vowed I would add him on Facebook.  I had to add that because the time had come to leave... much as I didn't want to.

So we left, the night eventually ended, and Sunday was a blur of pizza, movies, and work meetings.  But I did get to talk to the Green Lantern more... by a fair amount.  Today was a very low key Halloween, but it was a great one.  It got me to see that everything that had a beginning certainly has an end, that time does heal all wounds, and that the dark part inside of me, void of life for so long, finally had a spark set off.  What is it that he says?  I never saw the movie.  Oh, that's right.  "In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight; Green Lantern's light."

Light it up.

El fin.

silent appreciation

Tonight is a tricky subject, and thus, a tricky blog.  I think I can only accomplish the task of not being found out by my secret admirer, er... guy I am secretly admiring, by relaying my story with some clever rhetoric and fancy footwork.  By footwork I obviously mean a certain level of genius with my words.  Regardless, I may put on a grand show of throwing my thoughts and feelings out for the world to see, but there are certain things that stay close to my heart.  Some of you may know this, some of you may have assumed this... and I am very aware that we are often defined by what we do as actions speak louder than words.  Maybe someday I'll get the nerve to turn these words into action for that one person.

That one person.

Ever have that?  Ever set your eyes upon that guy... that one guy that kind of made time slow down but caused your heart to double the pace?  You weren't sure if it was his looks alone or something more profound, you just knew it was "there."  You couldn't quite set your finger on it.  Over time you found that this person really was someone different from the rest, a cut above if you will.  You started to wonder why you two weren't together, why you never were, and also why you never seemed to be the one that was lucky enough to catch one like him.  If not him.

I had that... have that, whatever.  Have that.  It isn't very fun, but only because I've started seeing it at a losing battle.  And while I know that love should not be viewed as a battle and that it should be a joyous thing, I have to disagree because I was in love once.  I think it's safe to say that everyone and their mother knows about that and how it ended, but I'll just say one thing in regards to it; there are casualties when it comes to love.  People get hurt very badly, and I did as well.  I didn't die as I thought I would, obviously, but for a while it felt like I was dying.  Then I started coming out of it, and started realizing that that "one person," ever elusive to my wants, was still around.

Here's a little about that one person, though (hopefully) nothing so specific as for him to realize "holy shit, Parker wrote a blog about me."  We've know each other for a long time.  Not a lifetime, but more than a couple years.  Always been cordial, but in the last few years grew just a small amount closer.  Nothing HUGE, but certainly more than something small.  We would see each other out and about randomly, though usually with someone in tow that stopped us from talking too in depth.  To me it always felt like a casual flirtation that never bordered on anything that would break the rules but was always juuuust enough to get me thinking.  Wondering, actually, as to what it would be like to be his.  I think the goal of admiring someone from afar is to be claimed by them, right?  Not in a weird or gross possessive way, but to know you are theirs (and they are yours) and you have attained your mission.

My feelings, however unfounded (and they were most often unfounded,) seemed to gestate and grow stronger despite how futile they were.  Then, suddenly... I was single; it was actually okay to feel that way (eventually when I started feeling again.)  I suppose we as people keep things on the back burner to sit and simmer throughout life, never knowing when the right time is to set them to cool or to turn up the heat.  I think someday I will make my move, and turn up the heat, but that does seem slightly unlikely.  I tend to discount my self-worth quite often and I'm not sure why that is, though I assume it has to do with being cheated on more than once.  I do think, however, that anytime you are interested in someone who you are mostly certain does not share the same enthusiasm toward you, you put yourself down in a sense.

I tend to find that through inaction I succeed in my endeavors.  Not usually in the way I wanted, but in a way that satisfies me.  Because I am a firm believer in good things coming to those who wait, I see no point in not being patient.  Either he will realize something about me that he was missing, or maybe I will move on and he will always be that "one person" who I just couldn't reach.  Either way, I wanted to end this with one of my very favorite quotes.  It came from (sigh) Smallville... and a girl said it... but I felt with a little editing it rang true to my circumstances:

"I want to let you in on a secret; I'm not who you think I am.  In fact, my disguise is so thin I'm surprised you haven't seen right through me.  I'm the man of your dreams, masquerading as your friend.  Sometimes I want to rip off this facade, but I know that I can't because there is the chance you will run away.  So I've decided it's better to live with a lie than expose my true feelings.  I've been told that there are two types of people; the ones you grow out of and the ones you grow into.  I really hope I'm the latter.  I may not be the man you love today, so I'll let you go for now, hoping that one day you'll fly back to me.  Because I think you're worth the wait."

Am I in love?  No, of course not.  There are details about this guy that I don't know, and I am sure there are details I wouldn't be thrilled with.  But the things that I am already thrilled with are the things that I know about... that I have seen.  And they are worth a lot more than throwing caution to the wind and keeping it all, or at least this much, bottled inside.  Hope you're all having a good night; I'll try posting something absolutely HIGH-larious next time.  Toodles gang (c:

what once was

I want to write and I want to say something but I don't really know what it is that I want to say.  A small part of me wants to scream at the tops of my lungs right now and another part of me wants to turn the light off and just go to bed.  Why is that?  Two feelings/emotions that are completely at odds with themselves yet seem to make perfect sense given my current situation and present circumstances.

I think it stems from being uncomfortable with my living situation.  I love living with my parents... I love being able to see them everyday and visit with them and get to know them, but at the same time I took a huge step backwards when I moved home.  I spent two years away from the nest, having moved out when I was 23.  My goal had always been to move out and never have to move back in again, but I guess the mistake was that I moved in with my ex Ken, full knowing I would never be able to afford the rent/utilities on my own.  After those two years he just couldn't keep his junk in his pants any longer and the harsh reality of the situation was that because of him, I wouldn't be able to live on my own anymore.  I hate him for that.

What makes this predicament increasingly difficult is that I look at these apartments on Craigslist and just grimace at the pieces of shit they are.  I lived in two nice duplex's.  The first one, on Greenlawn, kinda sucked because it was made shitty and only looked nice if you squinted.  It was our first place, so of course it wasn't perfect.  But the duplex in Wrightstown?  I loved it.  I loved everything about it (except for how far from Appleton it was.)  That place was gorgeous, looked gorgeous with my stuff in it, and held a lot of happy memories.  I remember moving into that duplex and feeling like I was finally an adult.  Oh well; it's hard to resign to the fact that you can't afford something fancy on your own, and that the thing you CAN afford on your own doesn't scream your name or show your personality by any means.  If I had the savings I would just buy a house, but even that isn't true.  Buying a house means I am tied here, and that is the last thing I want.

Right now what I want to do is pay off my bills, take a trip out of the country, and then come back and let shit get real.  Buy a new car, figure out my life, get a move on.  If anyone has any tips or tricks on how to do this, I am all ears.  Really, I am.  I think a lot of it is just getting of my ass and figuring my life out.  Stop feeling guilty for not making everyone happy and just work on making myself happy.  Sounds selfish, but can you think of a better reason to be selfish?  Making yourself value things once more even if it means pushing other, less pressing matter (i.e. people) to the side?  I don't think so... but if so, good for me.  It'd be about time.

Funny that I didn't think I would be turning to this blog so quickly to get my thoughts out of the ether I call my mind.  Clever me.

that thing called inspiration

I know that 99.9% of the questions I can ask on here are entirely rhetorical, seeing as you the reader don't have much of a way of replying to me the writer, but I want to ask questions anyway just to get that big 'ol ball of thought rolling.  What inspires you?

I think it would be ignorant to say that only creative people are inspired by the world around them to do creative things.  Saying that would imply that any of you "non-creativors" (I will now trademark that phrase, natch,) see beauty or magnificence in the world around you and feel nothing, when in fact that cannot be true.  I don't know in what ways a non-creativor would be inspired to do something, but maybe it is as simple for them as "I am going to organize my desk," or "I am going to call so-and-so because it's been a long time."  I'll let you know what inspires me and what it makes me do.  RE: my magical abilities and how they unfold.

Everything inspires me.  Surprise!  Actually everything would be... everything, so I'll narrow it down.  I think my biggest inspiration comes from watching movies.  And it won't be every movie that comes along, but a select few that really get me to think.  For example, last December after I saw Tron: Legacy with my bestie Mark Plowman, that got me to run my ass home and start pounding out some chapters on my second book.  A year prior, Avatar did the same thing, only that sucker made me bust a move on the finalizing of book I and I powered through that sucker for three months straight.  I don't know what it is about a good, solid movie that can get me to start feeling and thinking about things with such clarity that I feel I can do anything.  Shows the mark of a good director, I suppose.  I remember seeing Inception and walking out of that theater just being wowed with everything around me, much like I was when I saw The Matrix with my brother Josh back in 1999.  Creativity is such an amazing thing, especially when it is explored by someone else in a good way.  That being said, your own creativity should always be pretty fucking amazing as well.  I sat down to edit some of book III today and was honestly impressed by some of the work I had pumped out.  Not to toot my own horn.

It isn't just movies that inspire me, though that is a large part of it; a lot of times it will be music as well.  I could go on and on about music, but I'll save that for another day.  For right now, I am just curious how many other people can hear a verse or a line in a song and have it resonate within them on a deeper level?  For example, we recently started playing a song at work called "Yellow" by Cocknbull Kid.  I have NEVER heard of this chick before, but one of the lines in the song is "I don't want to regret a life that hasn't happened yet."  Those words are like poison to someone who has been contemplating their life lately and where the hell it is going, if anywhere at all.  I hear those words and think so hard about what I want to do and how I can do it, because that is my greatest fear.  I don't want to waste my life... I don't want to regret a single moment of it.  So far there have been a few regrets, but they are far between and I am beginning to see how they have shaped me.  Better or worse, that's up in the air still.

Outside of music and movies, there are the everyday things.  The people that inspire me with their own creativity, like Caitlin and Shannon.  The people that inspire me by their bravery and optimistic outlooks like Katie and Kyle.  The people that make me laugh like Mark.  There are a million quotes about friends and what they mean and all of that, but there is only one that I have always remembered vividly.  Marcel Proust said "Let us be grateful to people who make us happy.  They are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."  Well put, Monsieur Proust.  And very true.  I wouldn't trade in any of my friends for anything in the world, because they are the net I have constructed that catches me when I fall.  And sometimes I fall a lot.

Finally there are the day to day things that go unnoticed for the most part but can make a big impact if you know where to look for them.  I found myself incredible bored about a week ago when I had the day off.  No one was home, so I went out to the back of the property with a blanket and laid down next to the corn field in the sunlight.  The wind was rustling the corn stalks which were ready to be cut down and the air was warm.  It was one of those content moments where no, it did not inspire me to paint a picture of write a new chapter, but it inspired me to take the time to appreciate the things around me.

To slow down, stop rushing, and just let life happen in that easy, effortless way it tends to achieve.

We should all be so lucky.

that restless feeling

I don't know if this ever happens to anyone else, though I assume it does because to think I am one of a kind in some areas (as opposed to all, because if everyone is special then no-one is,) would be just silly.  Lately I have had a problem with turning my mind off, namely at night.  Obviously not in the sense of "hey mind, turn off," but in the way where you lay back for bed, close your eyes, and memories/thoughts/ideas/feelings just start zoom-zooming around your consciousness like those hicks at the Daytona 500.

A large part of it stems from the relics of my past, namely those regarding my ex Ken and all of the drama, nay carnage, I endured.  A few nights ago I thought that I could help myself fall asleep by playing some music.  I mean, that's the precise reason one of my iTunes playlists is "Of the Most Soothing," right?  So I plugged my iPod in, hit play, and let the music do my thinking.  Fairly quickly I realized my mistake because a song came on that essentially catapulted me back to the beginning of my relationship with Ken, when it was still good.  So that kinda blew.  Most days I am just fine if I have to think back on the "things that were," but every now and then something will creep in under the radar and really throw me into a funk.

It's easy for me to be sad about what happened, but in that same regard, it is easy for me to be happy that it is over.  One of those double edged swords, y'know?  So that's one reason my mind races; memories of how I could have done something different, and would I, given the chance?  Probably not.  You can't write a book series (as I am attempting,) with the simple and finite message of "what's done is done and there is no going back."

Another problem during sleepy time is the feeling that I am turning into someone I never wanted to be.  Not to say that is a bad thing, because it isn't; for the most part I enjoy the man I have grown into.  But there are a lot of feelings lately that I'm not doing what I was supposed to be doing.  I'm a few months shy of turning 26 and feel as if I haven't really accomplished much with my life. I never had a HUGE ambition to accomplish things, so I don't know what I expected by this age, but it was certainly more than I have right now.  I posted a status a few days ago on Facebook that said "if you don't like something, change it," and it is an idea that I am only just beginning to really apply to my life.  I read an article recently about how to stop becoming a people pleaser, and in the article it said that you are only able to handle as much as you are willing to tolerate.  Not really brilliant words, but strong words that beg to be followed.  They certainly ring true for me.  The article blatantly pointed out that there is only trouble ahead when you live for the approval for others, and that is true as well.

I think at the end of everything, my mind races because I just can't make it up in regards to what I want to do with my life.  That ominous clock is ticking, and not to say that time is running out, but that I am getting older.  To quote Woody Harrelson, it's time to nut up or shut up.

On this I will meditate.  Goodnight ya'll.

PS, thanks for the 113 page hits in two days.  I guess my words DO mean something!

first iteration

It's been a long time.  Since I've blogged, that is, not since anything else.  Though... I suppose that doesn't really make sense either, mostly due to the fact that it HAS been a long time since I rode a bike, but not since I drove a car.  So there are things that have fallen by the wayside and others that have taken their place, but that is true of anyone in life and anything they do.  We love and we lose, we laugh and then cry, we watch friends wander away only to come back with their heads hung low... I guess we also eat too much and get fat but that's a different kind of issue.  I'm rambling.

I used to blog my thoughts out to the world on MySpace when I thought people might read what I had to say.  Looking back on it, they did read my words; that nifty little counter told me so.  Usually I was just complaining about things but I think any teenager/early-twenties-gay does the same.  So what do I want to attain with this blog?  I'm not sure entirely, but mostly I just need an outlet for venting.  I'm writing my third book, and my venting tends to go into it which makes the story WAY too dramatic and my main character a real twat.  A twat being a lady's dick of course.  Thank you Paul Rudd, natch.

I can't promise this will always be funny.  I also can't promise it will always be deep and meaningful.  I think the only thing that it will be is a mixture of both, and thus, a replica of me... equal parts sugar and spice, a good sense of humor, an oft fairly sarcastic undertone, and, of course, a good dose of that bitchy venom some of you love so much about me.  Tonight is mostly for fun as there isn't anything HUGELY pressing on my mind, but stay tuned.  Because if you know me at all, you know I like to tell my stories with a certain flourish.  Like that time I cleaned up someone's diarrhea in the fitting room at Express.

So what am I doing right now you may ask?  Well I am plowing through a rather large bag of candy my District Manager gave me for winning a contest.  The card says "Sean, congrats on winning the District Challenge Event.  Driving the overall store win with your personal CSL results (=  Thanks for all you do, Angel." It was a nice gesture, but candy?  Really?  Handing me such a large offering of temptation in a handsomely decorated bag won't do my hips any favors, nor will it assist in the mystique of this year's Halloween costume.  Alas, I am eating the gross candy first (Laffy Taffy, Jaw Busters, and the oddly colored suckers that look like fancy versions of those you'd find at the doctor's office,) before moving on to the chocolate.  Namely the KitKat bars.

I've got to print out the progress I have made on Book III right now, that way I can begin editing it.  I was supposed to do that about an hour ago but then I got sidetracked with this and then, by way of that, started flipping through a magazine.  Don't ask.  Just stay tuned, the story gets better (c: