Embracing the Dark Side

A youth of too many horror films and a bizarre imagination has, oddly, meant that I don't understand Halloween. It's so...cute. Once I reached an age where I had truly independent thoughts, I only wanted to be Dark Characters. Vampires. Jason. Crazy Person in a Straight Jacket. I thought Halloween was a time to explore and exaggerate our own darkness and sinister natures. Now it's about Hallmark and sexy nurses and... nice, cute things.

I have this strange but clear memory of looking for a costume at an early age and asking my mom if I could just have the money. "No" was clearly the answer. And then I tried to rationalize with her: I could use the money to buy more (and better) candy then I'd get out of trick-or-treating and save my evening. I believe this was the moment my mom knew I was Different.

My freshman year in college there was a Halloween door decorating contest. I'd just arrived at NYU and thought I was with the Smart and Literary and Different. I got my roommates to agree to giving me full authority over our door - I'd taken it anyway when I moved in and starting posting quotes and clippings and pictures on the door. It was already the most visited site in the dorm and they were interested in what I could do with it next. Armed with Imagination, old magazines, masking tape, police "Do Not Enter" tape and fake blood I set to work. I had a roommate lie in the doorway of our room, so her top half was in the hall. A body outline was drawn with masking tape. Using my King James Bible (a must for any serious Western Civ student) I found a quote on death and did it ransom note style using letters from magazines. That was hung above the door. The police lines were taped to the door, making it look like the door was blocked off, but keeping it open for use. Before I put the police tape on, however, I had to add my best part. Liberally putting fake blood on my hands, I dragged and slammed them into the door. Within minutes the door was covered with the paw prints of a struggle with death. I admired my creation. I laughed gleefully.

My roommates were stunned when they first saw it. Flabbergasted really. But after the initial shock they too appreciated the art and humor in it. They were quite amused. Rumor took hold and within hours every time we opened the door there was a group awestruck by "the scene." They'd just stand there. Openly gawking. The authorities were not so entertained, however. I was questioned about my mental stability and any suicidal tendencies I might have. I think laughing was the wrong answer. To make matters worse, we lost the contest to a door of smiling construction paper pumpkins and "Happy Halloween" spelled in orange and black and being followed by too many exclamation points, as if they were guarding the purity and cuteness of the words themselves.

Halloween reminds me of a high school classmate who liked to say she was "different" and "creative" but never was. I still can't hear "creative" without hearing it in her voice. Creativity is stifled by the social fascism of people who claim to be creative. (They're FuN!!!!) I knew that early on. No thanks.

Halloween isn't about embracing the Dark You. It's about pretending to be someone else. I think Pretenders need some serious mental help. They think I do. This is the story of my life.