Now you know

This post goes out to my bewildered mom, horrified friends and appalled conservative society.

Why we celebrated Halloween when it isn’t even our culture:  

ONE. It is not our culture. Period. In my equation, culture comes hand in hand with family. The lunar new year, mid autumn festival, hungry ghost festival, winter solstice, it didn’t matter, my place would always be at a posh restaurant, buried under a sumptuous meal and layers of chattering while my reunited family members tried to talk over one another in excitement; or at home bowing my head before the altar, praying for good health and a smooth year ahead, as mom sets a table of offerings for the gods.

But Halloween is not my culture. I do not have customs to comply to, I am not haunted by superstitions guarding my actions, I heed no advice regarding my garments and looks; my every step becomes my own tradition and my every movement is the rule for this new occasion. And, just as cultural festivities are for family quality time; non-cultural celebrations mark the freedom of sharing them with anyone we chose to. Since my parents just rolled their eyes at the word, and the idea of dressing up with them actually nauseated me, so Halloween with my cohorts it is then!

TWO. Nobody remembers the evenings he spends nestled comfortably at home. I wouldn’t either, not when I’m 70 and crooked and my mind a dusty cavern. All that would light those blurry eyes of mine would be these colorful memories, the days of rainbows and bunnies; the times when we were young and could run, baby, run, to be who we wanted to be.

So let this Halloween be another penny in my piggybank of smiles, another note in this symphony I write for us, another gigabyte of photos in my external hard disk. At least I would be able to tell any keen listeners, “You know, there was once we did this cruh-ay-zee thing back during the Halloween of 2010…”

THREE. This is my way of feeling closer to you. Call me twisted, but celebrating the same occasion as you are overseas somewhat gives me a sense of connection. As if our personal Halloween experiences were like steamy mugs of chocolate with marshmallows; it didn’t matter that we each brewed them in our corners of the world, separately and using different brands, mine Nestle and yours Cadburry, coz in the end all that counts is the fuzzy moment where we meet on Skype and sip them together.

It’s absurd, I know, the way my thoughts work and the way I try to hang on to everything and everyone. But I can’t help it. I’m a person of heart over mind; and my heart tells me it misses Les Sluts insanely and Halloween is a brilliant opportunity to bridge the gap between us, even just for a day. And for that couple of hours, I really felt like I was celebrating, in my glorious witchiness and all, with you.