First of all, Happy Halloween. I hope that anyone who is loyal/committed enough to follow this blog is also going to get loads of candy, compliments on their outfits, and things that would not fall in the "trick" of trick or treat. As for all of the others...no comment.
I was just joking. I hope that everyone has a happy halloween.
Anyway...I must say that I was having a total fight with myself about what to make this post about. The nostalgic side of me wanted to go over all of the amusing Halloween moments I had as a kid, and the I-want-to-get-views-for-this-site side of me wanted to wrtie a ghost story about One Direction or something that would make people flock to this place like bees to honey.
Finally, with both of my sides tired out, my third side, which is the hey-look-I-actually-have-common-sense side that I don't use too often came to light. It told me, "Why not talk about Halloween this year? I mean, it can't be half bad. Not to mention that it's both current and true, unlike any stories about the past or the Ghosts of One Direction."
I should honestly use that third side a lot more. So that is exactly what I'm going to do for you all. This post is going to be all about the happenings of today, which would usually be pretty boring had today not fallen on All Hallows Eve.
*Cue Spooky Music*
Moving on. A few weeks before, I decided that even if some might think I might be getting a bit old for this costume/candy thing, I was still going to follow through on it. Heck, I'll do anything for free candy, even if it means lying to the people at the door that I'm a six year old with a growth disorder. After coming to this conclusion, I started surfing the internet for costumes.
A while earlier, one of my friends had joked to me about being a piano for Halloween. "I mean...no offense, but you're obsessed with it." It's true. I think if I gush about Bach or Toccata in D Minor one more time, I may be at risk of getting my head lopped off. Though she was totally kidding, I began to wonder. What if there is such thing as a piano costume out there?
After many tedious hours of searching on bogus sites and running into virus filled pop ups, I finally struck gold. The minute I saw the words "piano dress", "in stock", and "one size fits all", I hit the buy button before there was a second thought. I switched the computer off, exhausted but proud of my accomplishment, and decided to call it a day.
Boy, did I get a surprise when it came in the mail.
The first thing I noticed when I pulled the dress out was that it was a heck of a lot smaller than I thought it would be. Now, I'm not fat or anything, but that thing was skimpy. To complete the look, a cheap headband with a foam music note was attatched to it. Taking a deep breath, I crossed my fingers and tried on the ensemble.
Oh lord. The dress was form fitting, low cut, and had an open back corset. I closed my eyes as I imagined Beethoven shaking his head at me. The worst part, though, was the headband. It looked like I had a music note literally growing out of my head. Great. Not only did I look like a stripper, I was about to committ social suicide. I fingered the keyboard trim nervously as I tried to figure out what to do.
But I was not going to give up without a fight. I threw on a black shirt and leggings under it and re-tried the dress on. There. Now I looked somewhat modest. In my excitement that this might actually work, I shook the headband around. Of course, the music note fell off. Oops. I stared at it for a minute, but then realized that without that weird music note, my costume just looked...better. Something that I would actually wear.
I completed it with hot pink lipstick and was off.
My piano outfit was pretty well recieved. Though I may be getting old for this stuff, the compliments still came flying in.
"Wow, how original!"
"That's great! Totally you!"
Of course, there were always critics.
"Yeah, like I would ever wear something that skimpy out."
"Haha, you look like you just got belched out of a music factory!"
And just plain idiots.
"Oh! I know what you're supposed to be! Frank Sinatra! No...no...who was that composer who wrote the Moonlight song? Was it...Be...Be...Beatrice! That Beatrice lady!" I walked away from that conversation, to say the least.
And to think that I was worried about losing Halloween to age. Nope, I'm still going as strong as ever. And I'm not planning on stopping anytime soon.
Ignorance is bliss.
That little phrase right there is one of the cornerstones in the foundation of society. To be able to say, "Well, I didn't know..." Is something so American that it could be put right next to my happy meal and I wouldn't be surprised.
A lot of people insist that to be ingnorant is to be the same as without knowledge, and to be without knowledge is a sin in itself. And then there are those who are perfectly happy to kick back and let other people learn things for them while they keep themselves as naive to the world around them as possible. Of course, admist all of this, there's a slight problem.
Where do I come in?
I love knowledge, yet there are times that being without it is the best thing in the world for me. For example, once upon a time, when I was a lowly 6th grader, I put my backpack in what I considered the spare locker. After a brief talking to from the teacher, it was clear that I had no idea that I was forcing some poor kid to create his own locker type space in the hall, and I was let off the hook.
What can I say?
Then there are times when all of my friends are fawning over Harry Styles or Justin Bieber or Twilight or whatever and I can't help but say, "Sorry...what? I have no idea what you're talking about?" Automatically, the group will either go completely silent or burst out laughing. Either reaction leaves me red and sputtering and getting to the computer as soon as possible to figure out whether Bedward is a new mattress company or a cute nickname for a really unnatractive couple.
Believe me, it's happened before.
So that leaves me with a very, very, very important question. What do you do when you want to remain ignorant but at the same time know as much as possible? What if you want to be able to grow up but still have a childlike innocence? What do you do?
According to sources, I have to get over myself.
I need to act like a man (Which makes no sense, because I'm a female) and face the world head on. Gone with the ignorance! I should be able to take the blame for everything I do and be proud of it! So let's start today!
There's just a slight problem with that.
All of those people who have opened their eyes, and I eman really opened their eyes to the world have seemed to become of the opinion that it's a pretty crappy place. I don't want to do that. I don't want to lose all of the beauty of the world. I don't want there to be the bluest sky above me and all I see is grey. So now that leaves me with one question.
How do I get the best of both worlds?
Remember when you were a kid and you always had that parent that wanted you to do well in sports? No matter how lousy you were at soccer or what a klutz you were playing basketball, they kept cheering you on and pushing you to you rvery limits. For some, that's a blessing. For others, it's a curse. Luckily, in my situation, the sports relationship for my brother and father happened to be a blessing.
Except, of course, when they would practice in the backyard.
Every year, when my brother would join the baseball team, Dad would always try to coach him. He decided that the best way to go about doing this was to pitch balls to the excited little brother and continue this exercise until his son was hitting them all. Though it would generally go pretty OK, there were times that it was simply laughable.
This hitting practice was the start to a horrific chain of events.
First of all, there was mud everywhere, due to the freak thunderstorm we had at 7:00 in the morning. Before they even got to their practice spot, their legs were covered in brown glop. They plowed on through the exercise though, until my brother whacked the ball into a set of gnarly bushes.
After about half an hour, both father and son returned from their journey not only empty handed, but bearing evidence of their visit as well. They sort of reminded me of those people you see on America's Funniest Home Videos that fall into those huge mud puddles. No joke.
Dad, clearly exhausted from his muddy trek, decided to call it a day and ordered my brother to pick up all of the baseballs. Being the innovator he was, Lil Bro decided that the best way to go about doing this was to put the muddy balls into his helmet. After dumping the balls out and seeing the mess he'd created in the helmet, he dumped it in the pool in order to clean it out.
I know. What a smart idea.
Now, along with the situation of two muddy guys at the ends of their ropes, there was a sopping helmet added into the mix. "Okay, son, let's go dry the helmet off." Dad said wearily. They made a beeline into the house, tracking mud everywhere. Finally, they reached the master bathroom, where Dad dutifully attempted to dry the thing with a hair dryer.
To keep things simple, let's just say it didn't work.
At this point, Dad was so aggravated that he gave up on the whole idea and decided to dry it over the fireplace in the evening, and leave it in the sink to soak, giving Mom a nasty suprise when she went to put her makeup on. After Lil Bro trekked enough mud in the house to create an ecosystem, he finally realized what he was doing and left his shoes in the middle of the hallway in hopes that someone would claim it.
As Dad stared at the mess that he and his son had created, he decided to pull the vacuum out and clean it all up so that Mom wouldn't be too mad. The minute he plugged in into the circuit right outside of the master bedroom, though, the circuit blew, cutting off electricity to half of the house.
This was getting more interesting by the minute.
Dad was in a really bad mood at this point, and who could blame him? He was covered in mud, the baseball helmet he had gotten for his son was now ruined, he brought half of the outdoors in while stomping around the house trying to fix everything, and in an attempt to please his wife he blew the circuit and sent part of the house in darkness.
He decided that working out seemed like a good idea.
After cleaning up, he trudged up the stairs into the gym to clock some time on the stairstepper. after climbing up and down all of those stairs all over the house trying to get everything back to normal, he was pretty worn out. And who can blame him? He grabbed the remote and hit the power button, ready to spend some time watching sports while trying to recover from the afternoon.
It didn't work.
He tried again.
And again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again.
Still no luck.
In the middle of all of this, Dad realized that when he blew the circuit, he blew the circuit that was connecting the TV as well, rendering it unwatchable. This solved the mystery of why whenever the housekeepers vaccumed, the electronics would mysteriously take a nap. In another time, Dad probably would have been pretty happy to figure this one out. But right now? He was in no mood for this kind of stuff.
Finally, he gave up. Defeated, he headed back down the stairs and lay on the couch. After a few minutes of just laying there, he looked up to see Mom standing in the middle of the mud bath the house had become. "I can explain..." he began, rubbing his eyes.
Let's make things clear when I say that I don't dance. Seriously. I don't care whether it's hip-hop, ballet, or disco. I don't do that kind of stuff. It's a fact of life. Sort of like how if you don't breathe air, you die. It's not something I argue with. I just accept is just like we all accept breathing air. There are never exceptions to the rule that I had put in place about dancing.
Before I even arrived at the party, I knew that it was going to be another long night of staring off into space while everyone else had a great time. Perhaps I would be able to scrounge up some Hershey's Kisses to munch on, but it wasn't very likely. With a sad sigh, I entered the room in anticipation of becoming the world's next wallflower.
About 15 minutes into the party, I pulled out my phone in hysterical desperation. I was alone and slightly freaked out. I needed to talk to someone. Anyone. I decided to choose my good friend Stephanie. She was an expert at this kind of stuff. I slunk into the corner and rapidly began to text.
Me: Big party. Bright lights. Must begin operation wallflower.
Stephanie: Haha I can't even. You are so funny.
Just as I was about to text a reply, the DJ screamed, "Everybody, I wanna see all of you go to da dance floor! You gotta get on here, yo! This gon' be a rockin' party!" Before I knew what was happening, I was caught in a sea of people, dragging me over to the dance floor. Suddenly, I was squashed in the middle of around 100 bodies, all of them rocking to Whistle by Flo Rida.
"Agh! Get me out of--what the--wait...wait, this is a pretty cool song...what the--am I--how the--I'm...I'm...Dancing! Oh my god! I'm dancing!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. And so I was. I was rocking out and getting down to songs that I usually can't stand. By the time I was able to stagger off the dance floor, I had been dancing and headbanging for an hour straight.
I proceeded to text Stephanie.
Me: Operation wallflower failed. Overrided by operation party-like-a-crazy-person. Must be something in the popcorn.
Stephanie: I'm glad you're having a fun time!
After about 5 hours of getting down, eating mini cupcakes, and doing everything that a girl like me wouldn't do, I decided to call it a night. The minute I got home, I flopped down. "Well," I said. "I guess we learn something new about ourselves everyday, don't we?"
Sometimes my wisdom knocks me off my feet.