It's the end half of October and I haven't got much to show for it at this point. I've been to Busch Garden's twice, once for the horror and once for the thrill rides. I haven't made it to Hunt Club Farms this year, yet. It just hasn't felt very Halloweeny, really, until about this week. We had a stifling mid-80s day earlier in the week and its been delightfully in the 60s since, setting the mood for a lovely fall. And, in the spirit of one of my favorite national traditions, I chose to scare nightmares into myself for the hell of it.
I watched Paranormal Activity, the first one, for the first time by myself last night. Holy Jesus in an apron, that was an intense little movie. I ended up texting David at some point during the beginning half to express my disbelief of my own stupidity at watching the damn thing, alone, at night. He called to comfort me and subtly tell me to stop being a pussy. Then I squeaked into the phone and he realized I was STILL watching the damn movie, and laughed at me a little before trying to convince me he had my back.
Let me explain. Through all of my ramblings and tirades I fail to mention to people there are a few things that immediately freak me the fuck out. I don't like senseless, realistic gore. Its horrifying. Things were people could actually be dying, or where its based on a true story and the psychopath responsible is out there running free in the cornfields of Texas, they don't do well by me. I search my house for three months with a loaded gun and try to pretend I'm not a total chicken. Then there are movies about hauntings. Some of these are decent, well meaning and obviously fictional fliks that are out for a cheap scare and decent ratings. Then you have the Paranormal Activity bloody franchise.
All I can say is, if the third one is like the first one (I'm skipping the second. I don't have that big of a masochistic streak) then I'm just going to stop sleeping. Just for a few days. Mom doesn't watch scary movies if she can help it. This is the woman who screamed like a banshee in Signs when the alien's hand comes from under the door. She's a very faint hearted person when it comes to horror and the like, and puts up with it if we make her but normally weasels out of it if she can find a suitable excuse or replacement. Or, as is the case with Dad and I going to see the third installment of this franchise on Sunday, she just tells us to go fuck ourselves kindly because we're going alone and if the baddies get us, we have it coming.
I'm excited and terrified about this at the same time. I like to be scared sometimes, but honestly when its said and done, I'm still scared. It doesn't matter if I asked for it, or if I wanted it to happen. At the end of the day I'm still sleeping with my lights and TV on, a bundle of sage in one hand and a circle of salt to protect me. I'm exaggerating.
Today has been sort of off feeling. It might be because the world was supposed to end again. It might be because the War in Iraq is 'over'. It might be because I'm still on a medication regiment from the doctor and am just rolling back into a decent sleep schedule. Who knows.
Point of the matter is, as well as writing, I've decided to make tonight as relaxing as possible. I'm playing violin music, my candles are lit, there are scented salts making my bath feel awesome, I have lavender soap to chillax me, white rose tea to calm my spirit, a cleansing face mask and strawberry filled chocolate. Its quite lovely. If I had rose petals in the tub with me it would be straight up romantic in here tonight. I'm really just trying to outrun this odd feeling in gut that I can't shake. I can't tell if its my usual paranoia of failure or if its personal doubt or what, but its there. Meh. I hate having emotions at times.
Anyhow. National Novel Writing Month is coming up in just over nine days and I will be participating this year. The goal is 50,000 words in 30 days. I can do that. I'm also applying for work again, hopefully going to land a job so I can get my reserves back up so I can still be in Maine by New Years Day.
Enough rambling. American Dad is on, so its almost time to get out of the bath.