@sophiaemeloni

I celebrate my first halloween with abs. Like one’s first easter with boobs or one’s first labor day with class consciousness— it was something that fundamentally changed one’s engagement with the holiday. I was clear headed and intentioned, reinvigorated by the true meaning of Halloween. I reevaluate my priorities to fit the execution over concept model. But, of course, there’s still my ego to consider. Should some terrible fate befall me like freezing to death or facing a medical consequence of having too much fun it was important to me that I did not go out as a slutty nurse, an erotic Alice in Wonderland or any other costume that necessitated my wearing assless chaps. When the campus report or local media outlet reported the statistical carnage of Halloween weekend it was important that my persona remained intact. I continue to fantasize: “We found 3 trashy mermaids in a gutter, 4 sultry pirates puking in the street, 8 fetishized children’s book characters passed out in a backyard, 18 ambiguously spooky freshmen suffering from alcohol poisoning but this vaguely feminine yet strangely ripped Salvador Dalí face down in the trashcan is quite clearly not like the other girls” The cast of Jersey shore and I seize the night with an unmatched love for “Snookie where’s the beach”. I cannot keep my mind off the clocks.