I'm really awkward in haunted houses...

Actually, I am pretty awkward with anything that involves intensity or strong emotions. I go straight to my coping mechanism...humor. Typically I find people do not like to sit next to me in funerals, because I am truly obnoxious. I imagine I will be pretty goofy at my wedding. It comes on pretty strong at haunted houses.
When then bad guys jump out at me, I tend to respond with "Uh, hey, how's it going?" Sometimes I shriek, but usually I just try to make casual conversation. It's weird. I went to one last night, and when a creepy woman with an eerie crackle came at us saying she needed fresh meat for her meat pies, I told her I don't like pie. My friend and I were paired up with two people we did not know, and I found out that one of the them was named Jason. When I got scared, I typically shouted out, "Take Jason!" I think last year I may have offered one of the creepy people a hug.
I think they need to create characters like me in scary movies. We are rare, but we are there. We people who try to joke our way out of death. When that fails, we try to cute our way out of death. (Yes, I just used cute as a verb. It is the act of being cute...smiling, being polite, and offering hugs...You know when someone is cuting their way out of something when you see it.)
Of course, I discovered I am a horrible person because of that haunted house. Here's the story: We stand in line for an hour and a half, and then they usher twenty of us into a dark, creepy room. It's a court room, and Judge Killmore, a creepy man with lots of face paint, calls random people up to his bench. He accuses them of being guilty and yells very much. He slams his gavel, and it's kind of funny and kind of terrifying. (He accused one woman of not being a true blond. I laugh, but still try to hide because I am truly fearful of him calling me forward.) Some idiot, despite the parental advisory warnings, brought their little girl.(She was probably about 8 or 9--a real tentative line...some kids that age already love scary movies, but many are just not ready yet. And here is where I get preachy. Look, if your kid isn't the scary movie type, don't force them to be. Let them keep their innocence. There will be plenty of time in their life for scary things. There is no reason to traumatize the ones who aren't ready by forcing them to be ready. You are robbing them of their youth by doing that sort of thing.) This little girl is pretty freaked by the Judge, which is totally fair. I am laughing, but seriously find my heart beating that I don't want to go up there in front of everyone and be yelled at. The little girl starts crying. Now she's done it. The judge sees her and yells for her to come forward. He yells for her to stop crying. Tells her she shouldn't be there. Now the kid is really upset. He sends her back to her chair, but she is clearly freaked. Judge Killmore proceeds for a few more minutes, sending off one or two people in handcuffs before sending us all off. We then are put in a giant room and separated into small groups for the actual "Trail of Terror." Somehow my friend and I are getting separated into a group with the crying kid and her two mom-figures. This kid is shook. I now can't get into the scary experience, because I just feel for that kid. So, I try to laugh with her and I remind her they are all actors. I tell her to touch the wall. "See, it's just plastic and staples. It's not real." She sobs, "I...know...but I want...to go." The adult women are clearly not interested in leaving. I am starting to realize that my haunted house experience is about to be truly ruined, because I will be spending time consoling some kid with terrible adult figures in her life. And just as I am thinking that, the Judge sneaks over and jumps out at the little girl. She is ruined. She is freaking out. And I start laughing. Not loudly, not obviously, but still laughing. I hide my laughter, but somehow it is so funny. And as much as I kind of despise the guy for terrifying the kid, I get and kind of respect what he is doing. He knows the upcoming parts are going to be awful for this kid, and she won't have a chance to back out at that point. He is making a point, you don't bring a little kid to something like this. The truly terrible parent figures continue to debate for way too long about whether or not to go as this child hysterically weeps, and finally a scary guide talks them out of it. I am really glad they did. A few points were pretty freakin' scary, and I occasionally thought that the kid would have to go to years of therapy to get over the experience.
Anyway, the two main points for you are this: don't bring innocent, unprepared children into haunted houses. Go ahead and do some light trick-or-treating, some bobbing for apples, paint or carve some pumpkins, maybe a light corn maze or a corn cannon, and a simple costume contest. Do the kiddy stuff. Don't traumatize the kid. The other point is I am going to hell for laughing at a crying kid. Oh well.

Yeah, I'm an only child. What's it to you?

So in a recent conversation with a newer friend, she was astonished to find out I am an only child. She said she would have never thought it, because I am so balanced. It kind of made me crazy, because I am so weary of being judged on the whole issue. If people find out I am one early in the relationship, they warp every encounter afterwards to prove how spoiled and selfish I am. I had a roommate who, after I agreed to watch her dog and the house and pick up her shifts and gave her several bags of groceries to see her off on an emergency trip, told people how spoiled and selfish I was. (It's long story, but that is the main point. I didn't leave out critical details that change the entire context.) Others, if they find out after knowing me for a while, wonder at how much of an anomaly I am. Well, I think I know what the real problem is.
The real problem, dear readers (I put that in to make it feel more intimate), is not the behaviors of only children. The real problem is those people with siblings. They are judgemental. I don't blame them, it's not their fault. They grew up in the constant eye of judgement. Let's face it, they were always judged as far as who was the better sibling. They were the favorite, the golden child, the blessed one....or they weren't. Anyone who claims to believe the lie "I love all my children equally" is simply lying to themselves. We all know parents have a favorite. And just as the child felt judged, so they now judge. These siblingers (a word I just made up, but what are you going to do? Judge me? Ha! You would, you siblinger.), they were under the constant knowledge that they were being judged. They grew up knowing nothing other than judgement. The siblingers dealt with it however they could, sometimes competing to be the best, sometimes rebelling and being the black sheep so that they could claim to escape judgement. But it is still there. And since these siblingers know nothing but judgement, they now must try to bring the peaceful only-children under their unhappy blanket of crushed hopes and constant desires of approval. Well, no longer! No longer will only-children be scapegoated. We are well-adjusted! We are happy! We were not judged, we were loved! Our parents had no choice but to love us, and we were not compared! So do not bring your judgement and your unhappy, competitiveness out on us! Remember, we may be your only way to find out, vicariously, yes, how liberating not being judged is.

Oh, and as far as my extended absence from writing, well, take the poll on the left and I might write about why I was gone later.