Katie Pumpkinhead’s Pumpkin Patch

 I am still going on post-Halloween depression walks on Christmas Eve. I am always looking for the remnants of Halloween. Not just the forgotten decorations, or the pumpkins still fighting for their place in this world, but also the feelings. The dead leaves. The memories. The smell in the air. The ghost that whispers to me, You didn’t dream it.   It’s so easy to get lost in Christmas, whether you enjoy it or not. I think I do it, too, albeit briefly, but it’s impossible not to when it suffocates the world for so long. This afternoon I found myself watching some Christmas-themed films from my youth, trying to feel something. It’s beaten so far into our heads that we’re supposed to feel something this time of year, that we have to. I lose myself to the desperation and depression. I lose myself to the memories of a childhood that will never return, to feelings I can’t and won’t get back. December is like a funeral…for childhood, for autumn, for different variations of myself. It...

For all my indifference toward the Christmas season, there is one thing I always have to do every year, to keep a lifelong tradition alive: Watch Disney’s Very Merry Christmas Songs , a sing-along video that I watched for the first time when I was two, and have consistently watched via my original VHS, a DVD version with some more modern bits added, or this YouTube video, at least once a year since. Somehow Christmas songs just sound different coming from this video, and it’s literally the one tradition I still have any control over. This year’s annual viewing took place on the afternoon of December 23rd, and I noticed a suggested video when I was done: An animated special from 1982, The Snowman. I’m not sure how many people will remember The Snowman, as it didn’t seem to catch on in the US quite like it did in the UK, and I don’t have any real memory of it consistently airing beyond the early 90s. I remember seeing it once when I was very little, then again a few years later when I wa...

 I feel like I've been doing a lot of talking about Christmas this year, and I swear it's really not me trying to be "salty" about it, as the kids say. (Do they still say that?) I've just been reflecting a lot this year and find that I have a lot of thoughts and feelings. Just yesterday, I got the bug to wrap the small amount of gifts I currently have on-hand, and for nostalgia's sake, decided to play a few songs from my childhood Christmas gift-wrapping soundtracks, A Rosie Christmas and Another Rosie Christmas.  After about four songs, I was over it. I stuck the gifts under the tree (which for the record was put up by my roommate, before anyone comes at me for lying about my indifference toward Christmas in order to seem spookier) and soon after retired to watch Trick 'r Treat.   There was a part of me, though, that felt sad I couldn't maintain that teeny burst of holiday spirit a little while longer. I started questioning why, and, along with my usu...

 Hang onto your pumpkins, boils and ghouls, because today I'm about to do the unthinkable: Today I'm going to share with you the story of a Christmas memory! If you know me at all, you know that I have extremely vivid memories of just about every Halloween I've ever experienced. I could probably, if I put my mind to it, remember every thought I've ever had about Halloween, in vivid detail. However, even despite the fact that I actually did love it at one point, this is not the case when it comes to Christmas.  I remember the feeling of my childhood Christmases. I remember traditions and that childhood excitement. I remember how the day felt, how the decorations looked, the feeling of believing in Santa and the emptiness of that belief going away. But, for the most part, I really don't remember specifics.  There's nothing about any one particular day or year that stands out to me. Except for one thing. My only vivid, and in my eyes, very amusing, childhood Christ...

 Okay, so, today we’re going to be talking about Christmas.  No, I’m not about to make some grand seasonal switch as to what holiday I’m obsessed with. On the contrary, actually. Due to the constant invalidation of my feelings toward this time of year, and constant passive-aggressive statements eluding to me being some kind of “pick me girl” for staying so faithful to Halloween, I’ve decided I just want to straight-up talk about how Christmas changed for me, in detail, and why it makes me feel, or doesn’t make me feel, the way it does now. It will probably help to get this all off my chest, even if no one reads it. Though I do hope someone out there may find comfort in it in some way. I suppose you could say my descent into Grinchdom began the summer before I started middle school. Prior to this time, I was, more or less, the epitome of the “tiny tot with their eyes all aglow”, who “finds it hard to sleep” on Christmas Eve. No, Christmas was never my favorite holiday, but the ...