Halloween

I was talking about Halloween with my co-worker last week and learned she hates the holiday. I found this hard to believe because I'm Halloween's #1 fan. Who hates a holiday where there's free candy, you're able to scare people and not worry about getting sued and have the opportunity to dress up and pretend to be someone (or something) else? So, I asked her why she hated Halloween. One of the reasons she gave is that it's the one day out of the year where people try to dress as slutty as possible. I could see her point, some people do confuse Halloween with the Pimp n' Ho's Ball.

Today, I sat down and surfed the good ol' Intrawebs for some costume ideas. I have a closet full of bridesmaids dresses which I know I can recycle into something good. I googled "Halloween Costume Ideas" and clicked on images. My search resulted in pictures which could be used as covers for porn DVD's. I had to laugh because these very images validated my co-worker's complaint.

Halloween has been celebrated for centuries, has it always been used as an excuse to dress a little naughty or risque? I don't think so. Most depictions of witches are of the wart covered, hooked nose, hag variety. Monsters, zombies and other unsavory characters from slasher films dominate my recollection of the true spirit of Halloween. Although someone in a poorly fitted corset and fishnets can be pretty frightening, it's not on the same level as say the Headless Horseman, Norman Bates or Jason Voorhees.

This also makes me wonder, what do kids think? Do eight year old girls look at their Snow White costumes and compare it to their mother's "Ho White" get-up and want the latter?

Halloween has been divided into two very separate holidays celebrated differently depending on your age bracket and I think that needs to change. Why can't it be a horror, ghoul fest where adults and kids alike rejoice in the idea of trying to spook one another, without going to far of course (for any serial killers following my blog, this means you)?

This year I will wear a modest costume and I will make sure it leaves at least one person just a little bit afraid.

Happy Halloween!

The Short Story Collective

It's been over a month since I last blogged and there are a few reasons why:

1) Life - I thought having the kid back to school would make life less hectic. Not the case for this SUV driving Football Mom!

2) Writing - I've been on a roll with my MS and didn't dare get off course...even with a blog post.

3) I joined a new blog called The Short Story Collective where I and other writers post short stories. I'm the Friday author. Check it out and please follow us http://thesscollective.blogspot.com/ A big shout out to Chris Brett for having the initiative to launch The Short Story Collective. I believe Chris is looking for a couple more authors to contribute...

I hope all of you have been experiencing a creative Fall thus far!

Summer Nostalgia

Yet another summer is drawing to a close and like the last, I am left wondering, “Where did it go?” As a child, the summer stretched out if front of me - months full of days spent outside without a care in the world. Looking back, I like to think that I appreciated them. Had I the foresight to know how little time I have now for play, I would have embraced them more fully.

I grew up in Haddonfield, New Jersey; a Stepford-like town where the wide streets are still lined with lush, green trees which provide ample shade. Dots of sunlight break through and dance across the asphalt when a breeze stirs the branches. With a population of a little over twelve thousand, the town was small enough to walk around without parental supervision. In the late seventies and eighties, we didn’t have Amber Alerts, we didn’t wear helmets when we rode our bikes and it was okay for other adults in the neighborhood to discipline us if we were up to no good.

My summers were carefree. Usually a couple weeks were spent at camp in Hope, Maine, but the rest was full of adventure. From the moment the sun rose until the lightening bugs lit up the night sky by the thousands, I was outside.

I grew up on Mountwell Avenue where there were tons of kids all in various age groups. Somewhere along the way we were dubbed the “Mountwell Gang”, but we were far from gangsters. I think we earned the title because we always did stuff together. We played games like Kick the Can, Jailbreak and Capture the Flag. Occasionally we hung out on the second floor of my neighbor’s garage. We didn’t mind the stuffiness, the dust and cobwebs or the heat. Here secrets were told or dares were made. We all looked forward to sitting in the wrecked Corvette Stingray parked one level below. The once gold paint faded to a dull bronze.

My dad’s garden and fruit trees provided ample sustenance, as did the honeysuckle which grew along the fence by the train tracks. I would roam around barefoot and come home with feet stained reddish purple from trampling around on fallen mulberries. No matter how much I scrubbed my feet, they were discolored for days. Occasionally I received an invite to go to the pool club. My parent’s never paid for a membership, so when the opportunity arose, I jumped on it. After the chlorine became too much, my friends and I would drip dry as we walked to the corner store where we bought Swedish Fish and Jawbreakers for a penny each.

As we got older my friends and I found jobs around town. The days were absorbed, but our curfews were later and nights were spent roaming around the hang out spots, spending money on Big Gulps and cigarettes (sometimes cheap beer or Boone's Farm wine), and sneaking kisses with the romantic interest of the summer.

One of my friend’s parents had a house at the shore and we would drive down there, a caravan of three to four cars. At the shore, we attended parties on the beach among the sand dunes and around raging bonfires. The heat of the day would cool off along the ocean, our sunburned skin left us feverish with chills and we welcomed the warmth of the flames.

Earlier this summer I traveled to Philadelphia where two of my best friends from high school and I gathered for a reunion. One day we took NJ Transit over the bridge to our hometown. Stepping off the train was like stepping back in time. Nothing had changed; the air was still swollen with humidity and cicadas hummed above in the tree tops.

We walked down the main street, past all the shops and offices we recalled from our childhood. It had been eighteen years since we last tread the uneven brick sidewalks, which bulge from roots growing underneath. I waited for a car to drive by and honk, its occupants hollering and waving in recognition. We laughed and reminisced. Once again we were on summer vacation and we only thought about the day ahead, not the next. Even sweat dripping down and collecting in the small of our backs didn’t bother us. We had some money in our pockets and our cares about the real world were temporarily forgotten.

R.I.P. Rocky Fechenda

Today we received confirmation our kitty, Rocky, had been hit by a car and killed on Saturday. The last time we saw him was on Wednesday, August 11th. He had just caught something ( a bird or mouse or squirrel...you never knew with Rocky) and he was on the front lawn meowing at us about his catch. We praised him through the open windows and went back to watching Man Vs. Food. That was the last time we saw him.

He didn't come in that night, which isn't unusual, but he didn't come in by the next night and I started to worry. On Friday, after walking the neighborhood and talking to neighbors without any success, I called the local animal shelter and filed a report. On Saturday afternoon I put up fliers in the area.

Saturday evening the phone rang and my husband answered. A woman claimed to have seen a cat, which looked like ours, get hit by a car on the major road a block over from our street. She and her husband stayed with the person who hit the cat until the animal control officer showed up. She gave us the officers name and was choked up. My husband called that night, but the officer was off duty until Tuesday. We still hoped the cat wasn't Rocky, but didn't find out until today that it was him.

The animal control officer returned our call and described the cat she collected. Orange tiger, big, white chest and double paws. She described our Rocky.

Our family is sad tonight and grieving over our loss. Pets become a part of the family and Rocky truly was a Fechenda. He and our dog, Bullwinkle, had a bromance like no other. Poor Bullwinkle's appetite has been off since Rocky went missing. Snowball, our other kitty, has taken up a vigil by the front door. Soon they will realize he's not coming home.

I take solace in knowing he was killed instantly from the impact of the vehicle. Also, we gave him a loving home and he reciprocated the love. I never knew a cat to drool, and Rocky did, much more than the dog. He left drool stains on the furniture. He was chatty too and would come into the house at the end of the day telling us about his adventures. What I will miss the most about Rocky is his snuggling. He would hug my neck, rub his head against my chin and purr. At night he draped himself across my pillow behind my head. His little motor would help me sleep.

Rocky may have only been on this planet for three years, but they were well lived. May he rest in peace.

Writer's Groups

I love my writer's group! I want to shout it from the rooftops, but I won't, I'll just blog about it. If you're an aspiring writer and aren't part of a writer's group, I highly recommend finding one. For about six years I was working on a novel. People knew the premise, but never saw a single page I had written. Not my husband, not my mom, and not even my best friend. After taking a creative writing class in college and having the evil professor rip my work apart, I didn't have the confidence to share my novel with anyone.

A little over a year ago I finally got the courage when I joined a writer's group. I knew the group organizer as we had worked together and we encouraged each other to put our stuff out there. My pages were well received, the group members liked what I had written and offered feedback and suggestions. Not in a "I will destroy your soul" kind of way like my professor, but as fellow writers whose confidence was just as fragile.

Now, a year later, three core members are still active in the group and we have all noticed an improvement in our writing. Getting feedback from an audience actually helps me with sticky scenes or character flaws. We have become comfortable with each other to be more critical, but only to push ourselves. We can take it. Within this year I had a short story published and started sharing my writing with family members. My mom, who I feared would be my worst critic, believes I am capable of making a career out of being a writer and is willing to pay for conferences. She considers it an investment. That was a surprise and a relief!

If you are serious about writing, one of the first steps you should take is to find a writer's group. It might take a few visits to groups to find the right one, but it is definitely worth the effort. I found my group on the Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance forum. Check with your regional or state writers association or other resources (Craig's List for example) to see if there are groups meeting in your area.

Mel Gibson's Rants

Since my blog is titled EJ's Rants and Ramblings, I thought I'd sound off on the very public rants of Mel Gibson. Since every media outlet from Time Magazine to E.T. are weighing in, I didn't want to be left out.

Poor Mel, that's right I said Poor Mel, is getting chewed up in the media frenzy and I think it's unfair. First of all when people fight, especially ex-lovers, they can say mean and nasty things to one another. Usually these arguments are in private as these alleged arguments were. They were private until Oksana leaked them to the media. In the latest tape Mel accuses Oksana of being a golddigger and I think he's right. She probably did sign a paper where she gets none of his earnings so now she has to peddle these edited tapes for a paycheck.

Mel Gibson's ex-wife is coming forward to support him and still his sanity is being called into question. Who was Oksana before she met Mel? Exactly. Who better than an ex-lover to know what buttons to push to incite anger in a man, which is exactly what this golddigger is doing.

I hope that Mel gets through this latest scandal. He is a talented actor and director. Is he flawed? Yes, because he is human. We all are flawed in one way or another.

Who needs a Pulitzer when there's The Versatile Blogger Award?

As you know, I'm not an active blogger. Since I've been traveling a lot over the past few weeks (for work and for pleasure), I have been super neglectful. So neglectful in fact, I didn't realize until now that my writer friend (and rebel), Olivia Herrell, honored me with The Versatile Blogger Award.

What is this, you ask? It's a great way to boost someone's spirit and acknowledge the work they are doing. It is also a way for you to get to know a little bit more about me. Here are the rules (which I don't think are too difficult to follow):
1. Thank and link back to the person who gave you this award. (*waves to Olivia*)
2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Pass the award to 15 bloggers who you have recently discovered and who think you are fantastic for whatever reason! (In no particular order...)
4. Contact the bloggers you've picked and let them know about the award.

I am a technotard at blogging still, so might not link to blogs correctly. My apologies in advance...

Now onto to step #2 - Seven things about myself:

1) I was born at home.
2) I'm a cancer survivor.
3) I've lived in Philadelphia, Phoenix and now Portland.
4) If desperate enough, I would exchange a kidney for a Whoopie Pie (jk, but I do loves me a Whoopie Pie)!
5) My favorite book of all time is Little Women. Louisa May Alcott and her MC, Jo March, planted the writer seed before I even knew what I wanted to be when I grew up.
6) I love being a stepmom.
7) My first concert was Def Leppard and my dad chaperoned. He rocks!

Now on to step #3...here are 15 bloggers who are definitely worth mentioning and following. There have been many slow days at the office where their entries warded off certain death by boredom.

1) Charity Bradford, My Writing Journey
2) Natalie Murphy, The Sound of Rain
3) Roland D. Yeomans, Writing In The Crosshairs
4) Rhonda Cowsert, Snarktastic Ramblings
5) VR Barkowski
6) Eric W. Trant, Digging With the Worms
7) Mia Hayson, Literary Jam and Toast
8) Betty Blue, 37.2 Degrees in the Morning
9) Kelly R. Morgan, Distracted by the Internet
10) Courtney Reese at Critique This WIP
11) Loretta8, Mega-Toad Productions presents...
12) JA Souders, Angels and Demons and Portals. Oh My!
13) Anne Riley
14) Donna Hole
15) Eisley Jacobs, Eisley's Ellipses

Whew, this took longer than I thought, but was worth it! Receiving the award lifted my spirits and I hope to pay it forward.