Halloween

Why parents dress up their children as clowns is beyond me. There is nothing cute about a sickly pale human being, with an oversized red nose and smudgy red lips. Above all else, they just looks really scary. (Let’s not even talk about ghouls and vampires, since, there is definitely nothing cute about monsters, no matter how young they are and how much they drool).

I admit, I am afraid of clowns. They do not amuse me, there is nothing funny about their colorful clothes, red noses and oversized shoes. And children in clown suits should be banned from the streets. Mini-clowns are just as scary as adult clowns and not to mention, twice as annoying.

With Halloween just around the corner, I expect to see a lot more tiny Spidermans, Batmans, ghouls, witches, princesses and dare I say, clowns on every street corner and mall around the city. This really doesn’t help my fear of clowns at all, as I am sure to bump into some baby clown somewhere. My bad luck has promised me so.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Halloween. The talk of hauntings, witches, ghouls and goblins are extremely exciting and not to mention, hair-raising. The feel of goose bumps on your skin and the chill that runs down your spine when you and your friends share ghost stories in the dead of the night just add to the fun factor.

Pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns have always been a must for every Halloween celebration. As a young kid, I remember eating pumpkin pie while being dressed up as a princess.

Yes, as a kid, I did the whole dress-up thing. I mean, who doesn’t? I’m sure, at some point in your life, your parents smother you with costumes and paint your face. I was a princess, a magician, and (I’m having difficulties sharing this) a bunny rabbit.

Yes, with all the candy, pumpkin, and costumes, Halloween is indeed fun.

Though as much as I love the pumpkins, the jack-o-lanterns, the whole scary atmosphere and the ghost stories, I firmly draw the line on horror movies and, well, clowns. I have yet to see a full length horror movie. And I have no plans of doing so, in fear of cardiac arrest or falling into a permanent coma.

I do not see the point of scaring yourself on purpose. I’d rather scare somebody else than purposely subject myself to two hours of pure terror and possible heart failure.

My real reason for never watching a horror movie? I’d rather not like to know what goes ‘bump’ in the night nor would I like to know what hides beneath my bed (do not, by any means, say clowns!).

Yes, I know, I am a chicken. Pass me the chicken suit – that’s my costume this year. Happy Halloween everybody!

Break

After harrowing final examinations, piles of projects and assignments and an extremely good thesis proposal turnout, I can finally rest in peace.

Thank God for the tiny wonder of semester breaks. I wonder what we would do without this tiny blessing of no school, no teachers, no homework, and no tests.

I have promised myself that I’d go into hibernation. For the next three weeks, I shall officially become a bum and do relatively nothing – well, aside from writing this column and continuing with our thesis research (which therefore, defeats the whole ‘relatively nothing’ phrase).

Becoming a sem break bum is a scary thought however. There really is nothing wrong with bumming around, but becoming unproductive and turning into the proverbial couch potato is something that is not on my top ten list of ‘things to do’ during sem break. And as much as I love potatoes, turning into a vegetable is something that does not sound appealing one bit.

With that in mind, I have promised myself that while doing ‘relatively nothing’, I shall still be as productive as I was while being in school – minus the homework, teachers, tests and projects (however, I can not subtract our thesis, since research just never ends).

In fear of having my brain turn into mush, I’ll be sure to read the books I have borrowed from my friends. Never mind the fact that these books I have with me are school related (thesis related even). While on break, I might as well brush up on my Communication theories and continue to drool over McLuhan and his ‘medium is the message’ gig.

To avoid information overload and possible aneurisms, I shall also sinfully indulge myself with movies. Since going to the cinema is just too expensive for me (I am perpetually broke), it’s a good thing I’ve borrowed some great CDs from friends. As I separate myself from reality (and create my own), I will indulge in Kubrick and Kurosawa and wonder if their genes would somehow magically pass on to me.

I would love to travel for once this sem break. But unless somebody actually plans the trip, tells me where I could stay and how much it all costs, I shall continue dreaming of beaches, sand and the open air. For now, I will content myself with the province air and silently hope that somebody hears my pleas of traveling.

Ah, it’s good to know that I have somewhat planned out my break with doing ‘relatively nothing’, at least now I know I wont be poking my eye with a fork out of complete boredom.

The bag battle

These days, Elementary and Prep students’ bags are getting bigger and bigger. I nearly tripped over a boulder-sized bag while struggling to get through the sea of Elementary students. My foot throbbed in pain as I hobbled down the hallway.

The number of bags-on-wheels in our school is increasing dramatically. It’s hard to navigate through the sea of square bags without hitting your shin against one of their hard corners or having your feet run over by these bulldozer-esque bags. I have lost count of how many times I nearly tripped over these bags (I got run over once, a kid ran down the hallway, his bag hitting me right in the kneecaps and causing me to fall flat on my face).

These bags are health hazards, since these things weigh a ton. I wonder what are inside these bags (which are mostly humongous square contraptions on wheels); surely, there can’t be a dead body inside it? (A dead pet maybe?)

I love backpacks, they make me feel like a student and they are undeniably cool (no matter how much others say that ‘It’s so High School’). I like to know that all my precious books and possessions are safely strapped to my back and not in some big box on wheels, which might loose its balance and topple over.

Speaking from experience, having used one of these bags-on-wheels (a.k.a. ‘The Stroller’), backpacks are way better than strollers. There’s no hassle in owning a backpack, you just pull a strap over your shoulder and you’d be on your merry way.

Strollers on the other hand, are impossible to control, pull up flights of stairs, maneuvering through a crowded hallway without successfully running over some feet and pulling it through a rocky path. Owning a stroller is a workout in itself.

I understand that kids these days get more books than they can carry on their backs and their notebooks now probably come in bulk, so parents resort to purchasing strollers, thinking it’s the easiest way to spare their child of carrying around so many books and notebooks. Yet, they don’t know how hard it really is to pull a heavy box up a narrow flight of stairs until they are in their 8-year-old’s shoes.

Kids aren’t kids anymore. Their bags are constant reminders of the huge workload they have to lug around virtually everywhere they go. Gone where the days were kids would be running down the street, backpack swinging wildly on their backs, dirty from head to foot, joining street games and enjoying the prime of their young lives.

I’d give anything to have my old backpack back. To be wearing it while playing street football, during scavenger hunts and a good round of ‘make believe’.

The way I see it, aside from causing bodily harm and housing books, the only thing that these huge bags are good for, is the fact that they become excellent seats for the kids while waiting for somebody to pick them up. Talk about functionality.