She's got the four horsemen, so ride on baby.

I had a truly magical Halloween experience. I tossed on a black sparkly 80s dress that had been sitting in my closet since the Black and White Ball at the Masquerade three years go, teased my hair three inches off my forehead and sprayed it black. All it took beyond that was some white foundation, red lipstick and eyeliner. I was the Bride of Frankenstein.

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I can't really begin to tell you how much fun it was to embrace my inner goth kid. Those who know me best know that I like to wear more subtle costumes all year long, but Halloween is the best night for playing dress up.

I wish I'd taken more pictures before a metric fuckton of alcohol and seasonal good cheer rendered me incapable of finding my phone. My shife, for instance, was the most glorious peacock. Kati kept us all dancing with as fine a party mix as ever I've heard. Chantal's homemade fairy ensemble was incredible. As Shakira, Molly was the best celebrity guest star that party could have asked for. Aden and Sarah made me laugh, and that's so much more than candy corn does most of the time.

I danced and laughed and fended off a couple advances. It was so, so fun.

Today at work, a couple of students dropped in to turn in forms, take some candy, and ask where Transylvania really is. Another fantastic Halloween moment, courtesy of Emory University.

Tonight I'm going to watch a couple scary movies and mourn the end of my favorite holiday and this livejournal.

It's time, my dears. I need a change, and I think you do too. It's been a little more than three years and less than five hundred entries, and for one reason or another, I can't get excited about writing here anymore. There's too much history. I am too in love with the idea of continuity of narrative to stop writing as myself when this journal started, and I need to write as who I am now. I don't know if I'll ever write another dialogue with God, and I can't say for sure if I'll ever be as clever as I was two years ago. But I'm going to try to be honest; I will only write public entries. And this November, you can read along, behind my cuts, as I try to hit 50,000 words for NaNoWriMo. So follow, if you would like, to my new journal, whenshewasmine.

It's maybe something about growing up.

The End.
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