I’ve always been attracted to the macabre and the “different.” Ever since I was a child, I have loved Edgar Allan Poe stories (even more so when Vincent Price or Christopher Lee reads them).
My favorite movies growing up were Ghostbusters and Beetlejuice. I developed a love for all things Tim Burton. The subtle darkness and gray overtone punctuated by pops of color now and then (that it seems like they don’t even belong there) have always made all of his movies call out to me.
As I became a teenager, I started expressing myself through fashion. I would cut up a pair of jeans or dye my hair a different color, and I decorated my tiny room any way I wanted. It was my domain, my sanctuary, my form of self-expression. My music influenced me. Marilyn Manson and Tool and System of a Down were my sherpas, guiding me through my hard teen years. Everyone thought I was a goth, but I never saw myself as such. I was never very vocal, and as a natural introvert, I kept to myself and loved to express myself creatively.
As I got older, I toned down my look but still expressed myself anyway I wanted. I never fully followed the current trends. Even when I thought I looked like “everyone” else, someone would come up to me and say they loved my style and that I had that “rocker chick” look going on. I guess it never goes away.
I was having a conversation with a friend the other day, and she said she’s one of those people who would buy Halloween decorations and leave them up year-round. I thought, “what’s wrong with that?”
Now that I have my own house and I’m not confined to one tiny bedroom, I can decorate as I see fit. And yes, I am one of those oddballs with skulls placed randomly around the house.
Shortly after I had my daughter, I was on a quest to get one of those cool old fashioned trunks to store her toys in. After I failed to find one, my husband came up with the idea to make a coffin. I quickly shut him down. After all, I know people would automatically assume it’s me because I’m not weird enough. He ignored me like he always does and had a friend of ours make it for us.
So here we go, a not quite full-size coffin right in our living room, and to add even more effect, I got the perfect lace runner with skulls right on top of it.
I even came up with creepy flowers as well. I can be super girly, and I love all flowers, but who doesn’t love ones that have eyes staring at you all the time?
Since the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, my daughter loves the Nightmare Before Christmas. She already has a crush on Jack. She walks around with a small Jack doll and randomly kisses him, and even asks to dress like him for Halloween. I’m even trying (and failing) to convince her to have a different theme for her next birthday party. She, of course, wants Jack and ghosts.
And last but not least is my PeeWee Herman doll. He’s just creepy on his own, and it took me years to get used to him and get him out of hiding. Now he sits proudly in my living room, watching over all of us.
I do decorate for Halloween. It’s my favorite holiday. I don’t leave skeletons and gravestones up year-round, though. I’m not THAT weird, but I have learned to accept who I am, and I’m glad my husband is equally strange.
