Tonight's Poet Corner: Introspection

It's the night before Halloween. I'm sitting at my computer, having just pulverized ten mini Hershey's nuggets and downed them with a glass of iced butterscotch schnapps. Beside me, my fiancée is watching a Youtube video of some kind from a creator I do not follow. I've just finished up listening to the audio of someone performing some sort of monologue/observation written by a mutual friend on Facebook. Sadly enough, the pattern's gotten into my head, and it's almost like I'm trying to emulate it. Copycat. Something I desperately try not to be.

I have plans for tomorrow. Good plans. First, I teach. I work with two students every Saturday. The first is younger, middle school age. She has a hard time with social studies. Not so much of a hard time with martial arts. I never learned martial arts. One thing I do regret. The other student is older. Sixteen or so. He's a good writer, but disorganized. Last time I saw him, we went through a whole essay writing strategy for his lofty thesis on Clockwork Orange. "Freedom is an illusion." A statement of absolute grandeur. One that can definitely be supported by literary evidence and quotations.

My fiancée and I will stop by Target and Copperfield's (the bookstore I work at) after I'm done with my teaching. She needs inserts for her costume boots. She's Buffy; I'm Angel. Thanks, Joss Whedon. I told Arden about the new Robert Galbraith book and the Nightvale book. She wants to buy them both. We'll be going to the bookstore in costume, since a coworker of mine will be dressing up and doesn't want to feel alone. I was supposed to work a five hour shift today. I wound up working two and a half because the store was too quiet and I wasn't feeling well.

We'll drive up to my parents' place with five little pumpkins to decorate. No carving. There was a shortage this year, thanks to the drought. Fewer and smaller pumpkins. We'll stick with Sharpie and markers and white-out and paint and glitter, if my mom has any. My mom's breeder dog is in season. That means she's ready to pop out some puppies. The cat has always been an asshole. An adorable asshole, but an asshole nonetheless.

There's a Halloween party at the Flamingo Lounge in Santa Rosa. Arden and I will be going. Gregory Maguire who wrote the Wicked Years series (think the Broadway musical) will be judging the costume contest. There'll be plenty of booze, loud music and dancing. I don't know how long we'll stay. We don't expect a whole lot of trick-or-treaters in my hometown. My mom will have a bowl of candy, but who knows how much she'll actually dole out.

I've been coming up with ideas again. Arden and I have some gender role-bending sketches in mind. She'll be the butch one in the sketch; I'll be the feminine one. Have you ever heard my valleygirl accent? It's terrifying coming from a mouth belonging to someone who looks like me. Perfect for Halloween, no? I also have a movie script idea. Sounds clichéd, but it's true. Arden has expressed an interest in co-writing. I'm excited for this.

This weird stream of consciousness writing needs to end. Talk about another cliché. I'll be going to bed soon. My ears are warm from the schnapps. I have a new book to read. Sent out two reviews to publishing reps to look at. I do my best in the multiple jobs I have.

I do my best to pull everything together. But there's still so much goddamn stuff to do. But this weekend, it's Halloween. My favorite holiday. Time to eat some candy, dress up as a vampire, and party it up, bitches.

Have a great night and a spooky Halloween, everyone.