Halloween comes and goes again

So another Halloween has come and gone. I remain candy-less, but that’s because I want to get rid of the spare tire I’ve been slowly and lazily developing. I miss Halloween when I was a kid, yeah, but I’m not sure if I really want to take part in it anymore, aside from dressing up the way I’d really like to when I go out in public.

Why I say this is actually a few reasons. The more I dress myself up for Halloween, the more strange looks I’ll get from the other adults in the area. I usually don’t mind the strange looks and have, on occasion, made snide remarks at the people who blatantly and openly stare at me. I don’t like getting reproachful looks just for looking a bit different. The people who get these expressions are also usually the people who get offended when children stare at them, so I try my best to pass these people off as idiots, which usually works well enough for me. On the other hand, though, sometimes these looks can stick in my mind for a while. Sometimes a snide remark is uttered as we pass by each other and I want to turn around and say, “excuse me? I’m sorry, does my outfit of nothing but black slacks and a black t-shirt somehow offend you in your entirely black work outfit?” It gets on my nerves. I won’t stop looking different for the sake of being comfortable in my own skin because someone else finds it “odd”, but these looks and occasional comments irk me.

Another reason I grow weary of Halloween is because of the actions of people my age. I don’t like going to parties where more than half of the attendees end up wasted at the end of the night. I don’t mind a bit of alcohol, as long as it’s something I like, such as red wine, or Kahlua, but there’s never any of either of those at these gatherings. I’m not expecting anyone to get them for me, and only me, but the majority of people who bring alcoholic beverages to these gatherings brings what they know everyone will enjoy, and when I mention Kahlua, many other people light up with enthusiasm. Back to my point, I don’t mind a bit of alcohol, because having a decent buzz while playing Apples to Apples is pretty cool. Trying to play when someone is completely wasted, on the other hand, is more of a chore in trying to keep them from passing out on top of their cards, trying to have them drink some water so they don’t feel like sixteen shades of hell in the morning, trying to keep them occupied with something so that they don’t do something stupid, the list goes on. Hanging out with drunken friends is more of a chore than a good time. It’s more of an awkward situation, listening to them talk about something that makes no sense (a friend of mine ranted about “his macaroni” for twenty minutes once), trying not to squirm when they clutch onto you for support, even when they’re sitting down and the back of the chair could offer more support than a moving person, pretending to ignore the noise when they finally run off to the bathroom to vomit and them coming back shortly after thinking that because they just vomited that it’s time for more. Trying not to squirm again when they lean over you and talk two inches from your face, as if you wouldn’t be able to hear their insanely loud drunken ramblings from thirty feet away in a crowded room, and their breath absolutely reeks of whatever they’ve been drinking.

Okay, I’m getting off topic.

When I was in high school, I loved Halloween, because the people who made fun of me stopped for just that one day. There were no jeers of, “Hey! Halloween isn’t for another month!” A few times, people actually dressed up as my sister and I. Granted it was a satire of what we usually did, but it was still flattering nonetheless. On those days, I was a god in my own right. I could say and do whatever my morbid little mind could think of to scare the living hell out of someone, and it was expected of me, so people didn’t care if I scared them, or dressed up, or anything like that. Nowadays, people expect it of me to a degree that I feel like dressing down for Halloween just to confuse them and tell them that I’m dressing as a normal person, just because of how much it’s expected.

When you become your own stereotype, it feels good to change it up once in a while.

I don’t know, I’m just getting a bit tired of the whole feel of this overblown and endlessly commercialized holiday. I wish, though it will never happen, people stopped trying to make it something “cute” for their kids to enjoy. When I went out trick-or-treating as a kid, I expected to have the shit scared out of me. I don’t know if it was my own desensitization, but I started getting scared less and less every year. Eventually, I wasn’t scared at all anymore and took it upon myself to scare other people, because everyone else was too busy making things “cute” and “fun”. Now, I’m kind of bored of it.

Oh, well. Maybe next year will be a bit more fun.

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