pocketful of sunshine

after making my royal blog decree (see the last post), i was tempted to list my top 10 most played songs on my ipod and interpret what that means about me.
but i decided against this after i realized many of these songs are slightly embarrassing and could possibly reveal more about my character than i wish people to know.

instead, i have decided to rant about my creepiness. wait--let's put that in quotations. "creepiness." i say it in quotations because i personally do not think i am creepy. but it has come to my attention that other people might get the creepy drift coming from me. be aware, however, that this realization has not come suddenly. i have been aware of people's curiosity towards my obsessions for quite some time now, but never felt encouraged to address it until last night.
you see, last night i was talking with one of my avid fans: my mother. i was giving her the usual update on my college life, and told her about a job i recently got working at the library. i explained that i was surprised i even got the job in the first place because half the time i was explaining to my supervisors my obsession with serial killers.

one of the people interviewing me said, "you mean, like jack the ripper?"
and my hand flew to my heart and i exclaimed, "oh yes, he's one of my favorites!"

i never would have given that a second thought, but my mom burst out laughing and said i was weird. (speaking of which, "weird" is a strange word. i think it means something different to everyone who uses it.)

serial killers! vampires! gothic horror and medieval torture! voodoo, paganism, cannibals and witchcraft! you name it, i've either read, watched or listened to it. as louise durham, the infamous AP english teacher at my high school would say, i have a "fascination with the abomination."
i don't know why i get such a kick out of reading about john wayne gacy the "killer clown" whose victims were little boys. or vlad tepes III, the inspiration of dracula who loved to impale his not-so-loyal subjects.
but while we're on the subject of dracula, let's discuss my recent loss of interest in vampires. one word/book: twilight.
LAMEness to the maximum.
real vampires are NOT like edward cullen, i tell you that much.

but back to the point: what i tell people over and over, is that i'm "only creepy on the inside." i'm not like one of those crazies who go walzing around town in a black trench coat or has an ugly emo haircut.

so even though my favorite movies include man-eating plants and murderous demons, i am a normal person. i promise.
in fact, i'm scared of things: dinosaus, aliens, bears, baldness, and loving someone who doesn't love me back. (gone with the wind? i cried like a baby. my worst fear.)

but i only appreciate tasteful horror, murder and superstition. for example, tim burton. genius. but hardcore punk, scream-o gothic heavy metal music? nooooo, sir.