I'm a Hallowee'en person. Comes with the territory. I'm a fan of things that lick and slither. And every year I manage to convince myself that THIS YEAR! I'll come up with a fantastic costume, wow the Great Unwashed, and end up winning multiple prizes at my local bars. And of course, every year I end up having drinks with friends in jeans and a hat. Or, one memorable year, getting dolled up, heading out to the local gauth barre, and realizing the Hallowe'en event was the next day. It's time for me to admit it: I procrastinate the fuck out of Hallowe'en.
It's no lack of love, I assure you. It's more of a lack of faith in myself. I'm lucky to have a lot of friends who share my tastes; some who go as far as to live out their passions weekly with friends, some who are professional photographers and makeup artists who could spank any of us with the power of their costumes, and some for whom every day really is Hallowe'en. And I love all of them. I can't abide boring people. If you have a fire inside of you and you spend your life trying to put it out with a big hose full of "I'll do it later", I ache for you. And I'm sure not going to lie and say I'm not the same damn way. I am. I procrastinate on a daily basis, and it's not about the dishes and the laundry.
I procrastinate mostly about things I enjoy. I love blogging here. I am here most of the day. And every time I have an idea for a blog post, I file it away and get to it later. There's a six month gap on this site full of "I'll do it laters" and now I've forgotten most of them.
And waffling on participating in a holiday I enjoy has its own corollary - the more we put it off, the more of a problem it feels like - in the sense that the weight, and heft, if you will, seems heavier and more burdensome than exciting and fun.
We do this to ourselves too, about things like sex. I mean this in the sense of when we don't have enough faith in our own ability to enjoy ourselves. My Old Man has a great saying - "just let go". Like a costume, I can spend hours denigrating myself over how I look (in this case, naked) and what signal it'll send ("no effort in THAT costume!")or whether I'm even "good enough" to go - who likes that person at the costume contest with a t-shirt that says "This Is My Costume"? No one! Effort! I like to do things up right, you know? I like to be great at everything I do, and I can't relax until I AM. Which is a vicious little circle of self-downing...I stress myself out and worry too much, it becomes bad sex unwittingly, and bad sex can be summed up in three words: "did my duty". Whereas good sex is summed up with "unnghghff" because verbalization becomes a bit of an aside to our glowing new sense of self-satisfaction (and other satisfaction, if you've done your job right.)
I don't want to "do my duty" for Hallowe'en. It's the time of year for horror fans and freakadoos like myself to run rampant and enjoy the brief celebration of our peculiar interests. When enjoying something starts to feel like a burden, it's time to re-assess the...duty...at hand.
So I'm going all out. I'm going to start on the costume today, have some pictures up hopefully for tomorrow. My costume is 100% vegan (you'd be surprised what's not!) and I think somewhat clever. If I end up spending my Hallowe'en in Azeroth putting out Town Hall fires, then that'll be because it was the most fun thing I found to do, and I'm not going to ride myself for it.
And if I end up buying one of those Playboy-issued "Slutty Bank Teller", "Slutty Veterinarian", "Slutty IT Project Manager" costumes instead, it'll be because of that heft - the one that makes duty a pure and constant pleasure, between me and My Old Man.
To kick off, I've dolled up my logo in a cute retro cookbook costume. Isn't she cute? Hopefully it won't be cold so she won't have to wear a parka overtop. Stupid Canadian Hallowe'en.