Curiosities of a Foolish Mortal
I’ve always liked unconventional things. Sure, I was the typical girl who loved dolls, playing dress-up, painting my nails, and as a teenager, I loved the mall.
Trends were definitely part of my life growing up. You only need to see the polaroid I shared in my About Me page of Mickey and me in my blue smiley flower tee to understand that. Smiley faces came back huge in the 90s, and I was all for it! However, I’ve also always gravitated toward things that were not being talked about or things that weren’t so common, such as preferring rainy days over sunny days in Southern California, and preferring the scores of movie soundtracks over the songs with words. The Pocahontas and Lion King scores gave me life, and I wore out the tapes from listening to them so much, and I eventually bought the CDs.
Most of my life, no matter how social I was, I always felt like I was on the outside looking in. I never truly felt like I fit in anywhere. In school, I wasn’t the most popular girl, but no matter where I moved to, I found a group of friends that I bonded with, and I felt like I could be myself. The problem was, with all the chaos in my life, I often pretended I was someone I wasn’t, and I kept many secrets from my friends about the real me.
Disneyland was a big part of my soul, and I felt at home in the park. This was definitely not something I kept hidden from my friends, and although they enjoyed it as well, none of them could understand why I loved it so much. My response, “How could you not love it so much?” I couldn’t wrap my brain around my peers not wanting to visit as often as I wanted to. Sure, I loved the other amusement parks, such as Universal Studios Hollywood, the water parks, and Six Flags Magic Mountain, but it was not my preference. Usually people visited these places for the thrill of the rides. But not me. Disneyland felt nostalgic to me, like I was connected from a previous life. I enjoyed Disneyland for the comfort and sense of belonging it gave me. I could walk around for hours without getting in line for a single attraction, and I would be content and fulfilled. There was one attraction, however, that I ran to after every rope drop.
The Haunted Mansion was, and still is, my favorite attraction at Disneyland. Throughout my childhood, I have been interested in the spooky and macabre. Horror was always my favorite genre of film, and my favorite holiday is Halloween. When the Nightmare Before Christmas came out in theaters, I drank up the haunting vibe I felt while watching it, and sang all the songs I had memorized on the swings at school. Yes, I was obsessed. I loved horror movies like The Nightmare on Elm Street and Poltergeist, but being a Disney girl, the new movie gave me the best of both worlds.
With all that said, the Haunted Mansion gave me a feeling I could not get enough of. My heart always jumped in the foyer room when the lights went out, the lightning flashed, and we were made aware of a hanging body on the ceiling, followed by a horrific scream. Every time was like the first time, as I walked down the hallway of changing portraits, past the stalking gaze of the watchful busts, and turned the corner to see the line of doom buggies waiting to carry me off. One of my favorite scenes that always gave me chills is pictured below. Something so simple yet so chilling, it took every restraint I had within me to not jump out of the buggy and run down the hall to discover the ghost who held the candelabra, regardless of the chills that slid down my spine.
Ghosts were a fascination of mine, and the afterlife is something I’ve found myself pondering quite frequently. I always knew there was more to life than just the physical, and that translated into the things I loved. I enjoyed being scared. I suppose even as a kid, being scared made me feel more alive. Or maybe it just made me feel something. A couple of years after my grandparents took me in, my grandmother told me I was emotionless. Never crying, never showing anger. In fact when I began to fight with my grandparents, they were so relieved and happy. So looking back, my love for spooky things probably grew from needing to feel something.
A memory that is so vivid for me is sitting in my dark room listening to a CD my parents had just bought. There were 2 parts to the CD, A Night in a Graveyard, and A Night in a Haunted House. It’s a narration and sound effects of each scene, and it is very well done, in my opinion. Here are the links to Youtube videos of the exact recordings, if you wish to check them out: A Night in a Haunted House and A Night in a Graveyard. Also, I recently came across the tape in its original packaging at a discount store near where I live. I was so shocked when I came across it, but they were only fifty cents each, so I bought two in my continuing effort to reclaim my lost childhood. I can still recall sitting on the floor, legs drawn to my chest, back against the wall, my left side leaning against our huge homemade toy box on my left, blinds closed to block out the light of day, listening intently to the resonant, booming voice of the narrator, and drinking up all the delightfully chilling sounds of each room of the haunted house. My favorite was the mad organist. As soon as the first chord on that organ was struck, every cell in my body tingled with dark fascination and morbid anticipation.
So you see, when I got the chance to embark on a doom buggy ride through a haunted mansion, it was all over. Disneyland was my long lost home, but the Haunted Mansion was like my favorite little nook in that home to spend my time.
I do remember those cds. Cool you found tape. Listened to youtube vids. Glad it has brought you scary memories. Eerie spooky sounds. Love you listened in your room in the dark. Anticipation of the organist first note.