So this semester I'm taking a class on the American Novel. Yes, oh yes. I should have seen this coming, but I was not prepared for two weeks worth of cowboy talk, ranching lectures, and guest speakers on the American West. Don't be surprised if I reject your high-five and instead initiate a shoulder-swinging handshake and a "put it there partner!" It gets better. I was an American for halloween. Well, initially a cowgirl. But the responses were far more entertaining when I professed to be an American! Yes, of course all Americans wear plaid shirts, cowboy boots, and braids with ribbons. One of favourite costumes of the day was surprisingly a friend at work, who I initially did not think was dressed up until I realised she was wearing my name tag. She was in fact a muggle from England. Well done, Megan. I applaud you. But I might add one thing. I would never be a muggle. Here is my proof. I whisper "accio" over and over, and things I am summoning magically come to me. (I have great roommates.)
Of course, we watched Hocus Pocus. It would not be halloween without that movie. And of course, I still jumped when the blonde witch jumps out from underneath the bedsheets. Nothing will ever prepare me for that moment. Terrifying!
Also, side note. A man at work last week thought I was Scottish. Really? I asked him if he'd seen Braveheart. He had. One of us was still very confused. Another person asked me where I was from. England of course. She then asked me if my siblings were English too. Oh, yes! That one made my afternoon.
Okay, enough. I should save these for my folklore project where I will be researching being English in Provo. Get excited. You all will be able to find my research project in the BYU folklore archives, if you ever end up lost in the basement of the library. But seriously, don't do it. My first experience of the the archives was somewhat strange. We were taken to some lockers where we had to leave all of our belongings, and we were then locked in a room surrounded with windows where we could view the items. They then passed the items under the glass window to us, like we were contaminated for something, or under arrest. I felt slightly twitchy. Like when they put secret microphones under the tables, and cameras on the ceiling to record your conversations. Regardless of if "They" were listening or not, I made it a good one.
So last week I celebrated my 22nd birthday. Madness. In my mind I'll always be that 12 year old girl who watches Power Rangers with her siblings, sings to S Club 7 into her hairbrush microphone, and wears sparkly flared jeans. Awesome. 90s, you will always be a part of me, even though now I have transitioned into an "old person." Grim. On the other hand, I am having very good feelings about my 22nd year. Good things. Good things.
Here are the highlights of halloween at the box office...