Katie Pumpkinhead’s Pumpkin Patch

 Five years ago today, I started this blog.  I've never truly been one for "New Year's resolutions", or New Year's at all, really, but just before 2020, I promised myself that I would start blogging again. I've loved to write since I was six years old. I very clearly remember the first little "picture book" I put together. I had actually just watched an episode of Lamb Chop's Play-Along,  where Shari Lewis gave instructions on how to make a little flip book of sorts of a girl jumping rope. I've always been a DIY disaster, so my attempt at recreating this little scene did not go according to plan. It frustrated me, but I somehow got the idea to turn it into a story that I titled "Jill's Bike". I don't remember the specifics of the story, but I believe it was about a girl, obviously named Jill, getting frustrated with her attempts to jump rope, and finally deciding to go and ride her bike instead. It was a short little story, ...

 I know I've spoken a lot here about different times and moments in my life that I've found transformational, or pivotal in helping shape me into who I am today. But there is one date I really don't think I've ever mentioned before: June 29th, 2005. This was the day I saw the musical Wicked for the first time. I've always been fascinated by witches, both fictional and in their real-life lore. I'd watch anything relating ti them, especially when I was in my teens. They fascinated me. I used to say I'd never met a witch I didn't like.  So, when I heard the news that there was going to be a Broadway show about the untold backstory of the witches from The Wizard Of Oz, I knew I needed to see it. (It's worth noting that I'm also a sucker for backstories of well-known characters.)  It took two years from the time the musical initially opened, as it was extremely (no pun intended) popular for quite awhile, but I was finally gifted tickets for my high sc...

 In 2018, I thought I was dying. It wasn't a health scare, at least not a physical one.  I was losing myself. 2018 was a truly transitional time for me. At the time, I was living with my parents, along with my boyfriend at the time, who I'd been with for over a decade. They say you never know what the next day is going to bring, and April 2018 was proof of that.  Around the middle of the month, I made the decision to end my relationship, for several reasons, one being complicated feelings I had for someone else. I was in the process of figuring all of that out, when, not more than a week later, my father abruptly decided it was time to retire, put the house up for sale,  and move to Florida.  I don't do well with change on a good day. But dealing with all of this at once was rough. I was facing a breakup, a possible new relationship, and suddenly potential homelessness, all at once. (If you know me at all, you'll understand that moving to Florida was never a con...

  The shadows in the cemetery that day were unlike anything I'd ever seen before. It was more than a cloudy afternoon. It felt ominous, like a warning. A warning I should have heeded ages ago, if I'm honest. I look back on every tear shed, every whispered word, every time I should have put a stop to a desperate fairytale that was spinning out of control. I question my sanity, when I look back on it. Who was I? Or perhaps, who was I  trying  to be, and for what purpose?  Why was I looking for something I'd had all along?  I'll never forget how blue the sky was, the moment hope returned.  I had to shut my eyes to see clearly, but when I opened them again, the world was vivid, as if that shadowy night never happened. Or, at the very least, happened somewhere far, far away.  As I finally stood up again, I nearly tripped over my own feet, like a newborn animal. Rebirth, it seems, was the theme of the day. I felt something catch me, holding me steady once mo...

This is a story I've contemplated telling here for a long while now. It's very long, and more personal than I usually get here about certain things. But in the spirit of Valloween, I feel like now would be the perfect time to tell the tale of a "dating" horror story, would it not?  My initial inspiration for talking about this was the existence and popularity of characters like Corey Cunningham from Halloween Ends, and that one character from the Necro episode of American Horror Stories. I realized I knew someone quite like them, and the experience was certainly not some fantasy come true.  I'm also going to say, I refer to this person as a stalker, and while I know maybe it's not quite to the exact same level that other people experience stalking, please know I'm not trying to undermine anyone else's stories or experiences. This was my own experience and in my opinion it was definitely stalker behavior, even if it didn't reach the same level that ...

 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 ...