Hello! I have anxiety in many social situations and am working on getting over my shyness. I urge you all to go out for Halloween! This essay I just wrote explains my point well in a lovely personal story :) By the way, I changed the names.

Go out- alone or with friends and family- get out, leave your computer, leave your worries! If you want, put on a mask and play a role. Also, I'd love to hear from you- about what to do for Halloween or anything at all. I have ideas for last minute costumes and more! Tell me what happens this year. What you did you do last year? Enjoy!





A Single Night


I threw on my white kimono. Chau helped me tie the broad red sash around my waist. I secured my elaborate pin in my black hair and pulled on my leggings. My make-up was complete. My eyes had been reduced to powerful black slits in milky-white skin, and my lips were subtly shaped by deep red lipstick into a pursed and flirtatious form. I put on my thick wooden sandals, spread my delicate cream-colored fan with one sure flick, and walked into the brightly lit living room. My vision had come to life. I was Modern Geisha of the West, the oxymoronic product of my study of traditional Japanese dress and my own resourceful creativity and skill. I was a fashion-forward American geisha with curves.

You look beautiful, my friend Chau said with delight. She was Skimpy Geisha in a busy satin red kimono that barely covered her, thick wooden sandals like mine, and black hair in a messy bun with spikes of black jutting out in every direction. She fanned her dolled-up face and turned to Ella. Ella was La Madam, her thin frame dressed head to toe in lushish black. Her make-up was impeccable and she wore a black feather boa around her neck that shone purple and green as she sauntered closer. She ran her fingers through her long, sleek dark hair and we all laughed at each other. Jay was sitting on the floor by the couch, stretching. And what are you? I questioned with my hand on my hip. Me? Im a ninja, he said slowly as if the idea had just come to him. He was in regular clothes: a black coat, black shirt, black pants, and black shoes. I brought a sword, he added. Well, he did look and act the part: a tall, handsome, muscular young Asian man who possessed a noble character and moved with silent agility.

I glanced at my clock: 6:30, 31st of October, 2006. We stuffed cameras, keys, and a few dollars into our costumes and went outside. The evening air was cool and refreshing and the sun had already slipped far below the horizon of office buildings and hotels. We got a ride from a friend and traveled the 5 miles in 45 minutes of traffic and detours. We had expected this. We got out on Melrose and San Vicente and saw people gathering and heard the static of distant rock music. We headed north, the excitement building in the streets and in our bodies.

The West Hollywood Halloween Costume Carnival is a street party of monumental scale. West Hollywood is known for its tolerance and high population of homosexuals and the carnival began in 1987 as an unofficial gay pride parade of pompous, regal, and daffy drag queens. Since then, it has exploded into the largest Halloween celebration in the world, attracting upwards of 400,000 people each year. It is organized by the city and doesnt cost a penny. At 6:00pm Santa Monica Blvd. is closed off from Doheny to La Cienega and men, women, and even children, from Hollywood natives to South African tourists, gay, straight and everything in between fill the streets. Everyone is welcome and everyone is wanted. Many people show up in plain clothes to see others costumes and performances. For a single night, ordinary citizens go all out and become wonderfully eccentric street performers.

The City of West Hollywood hires performers as well, and entertainers of past years include singer Pink, rock band Berlin, and comedian Margaret Cho. Twenty bracelets are handed out by secret judges walking through the crowd of citizen performers from 6:00 to 10:00. The special bracelets get people on stage at the costume contest to compete for the grand prize of $1000, though the best costumes are custom creations well in excess of a thousand dollars. The festive city also does not issue parking tickets from 5:00 in the evening to 6:00 the following morning and provides designated parking areas and shuttle services, but parking is still hairy.

West Hollywood is a special city. It is a city within a city: Hollywood, world capital of the film industry, and Hollywood is within Los Angeles, a mega-city of classic, retro, and cutting-edge fashion, music, architecture, and automobiles. Little West Hollywood rivals New York City as the interior design capital of the United States. Less than a block away from the party is the Pacific Design Center. Around this nexus are thousands of art galleries, fabric and furniture showrooms, and landscapers, architects, and designers offices. A mile to the north of the carnival, stand the Hollywood sign and homes of the rich and famous. A mile to the east: urban fashion central, Melrose Ave. Just past that: hip apartments, condominiums, and tiny houses, downtown L.A., China Town, and Korea Town. A mile southwest: immaculate Beverly Hills with its Rodeo Dr. Then come laid-back and friendly Santa Monica, hip Malibu, and the Pacific Ocean. The West Hollywood Halloween Costume Carnival is the product of this extraordinary place with an educated, diverse, and open-minded community bubbling with ingenuity. Each year, people from all over Los Angeles surge onto this one-mile section of Santa Monica Blvd. for one exotic night.

My friends and I reached the wide boulevard where the fun was just beginning. One stage blared techno, rap, and pop. Further down the street, a gritty rock band was warming up. Living caricatures walked arm in arm with women so jaw-droppingly beautiful and flawless that they looked as though they had walked out of the airbrushed pages of Vogue. Gorgeous cowboys winked at us, grotesque goblins hissed and snarled, robots beeped, and practically naked sirens did their best to seduce us.

As the crowd grew and grew, it seemed as though every character from TV, movies, videogames, books, and peoples imaginations were on that one street. Even lesser known characters such as Aunt Jemima from the box of Aunt Jemima pancake mix mingled in the crowd. A group of elderly women laughed and gawked wide-eyed at this intoxicating show where anything goes. A young woman snapped my picture. Another man asked to pose with me in a photo, and I happily obliged. I was not Brenna Larsen, a shy white middleclass college student and employee. I was the reinvention of a Japanese icon. I was Modern Geisha of the West. Chau Ha was Skimpy Geisha of Downtown. Ella Shani was the mysterious French madam. And Jay, Jay was a true Japanese ninja: a humble and dignified gentleman and a fighter of the finest caliber.

After an hour of strolling around, we reached the main stage where two hosts invited people to ascend the black platform and parade their costumes for all to see. A camera recorded the action on the stage and showed it on two huge screens on either side of the stage. A frail older man dressed in red long-johns and cheap devil horns declared into the microphone, Im Hell on Wheels! and zoomed around the stage in his automatic wheelchair draped in red fabric and fitted with a little triangular red flag. The next person was completely covered in silvery, feather-like spikes and had a large silver beak. He dramatically thrust his wings out, which were intensely colorful, and gracefully moved them as though he was flying. The hundreds of feathers shimmered and reflected a rainbow of colors. Oh soar, brother, soar! the host woman yelled. Later, my friends and I had our time in the spotlight, too.

Men and women in plain dress walked down the street holding large wooden grids high on their shoulders with cotton candy, balloon animals, and other goodies tied to them. Great bars were open, but no one wanted drinks; we were on a natural high. Some restaurants were open, but wonderful aromas drew us to temporary food stands displaying a range of temptations. Hotdogs hissed and popped on big grills, corn-on-the-cob roasted, fresh popcorn was being buttered, and gyro (zheer-oh) meat dripped as it rotated on a spit above grilled peppers and onions. We were hungry. We looked at each other and knew without a doubt; we were having gyros.

We sat on the curb of a side street and savored our wonderful Greek sandwiches. I could actually smell the fresh pita bread over the powerful aroma of the juicy meat. We watched the precession for a while. People mostly traveled on the right side of the street, like cars. They were singing, dancing, hopping. Suddenly, I got an urge to jump up, and linked arms with Ella on my right and Jay on my left. Ella grabbed Chau and we all started skipping. For a moment, we were kids together again. The crowd grew thicker as we frolicked down the boulevard and we slowed to a relaxed walk. As I let go of Ella and she let go of Chau, Jay slid his fingers gingerly down my arm and took hold of my hand. My hand was cold, his was burning hot and his touch sent a delighted shiver through my body. Gazing at the crowd, I squeezed his hand.

Jay got a call on his cell. It was his friend, Mitchell, he was there. We met up with him and walked together. Mitch was in plain clothes and he walked too fast. He led us straight ahead and we missed the announcement of the costume contest winner. At a party like this, people were meant to slow to a crawl and watch everything around them, or jump in with one of the convulsing dancing mobs in front of the music stages. Even stand and stare for hours. This celebration was no place for worries, anxieties, or hurries. It was a time and place to let everything go, to let loose and have fun.

The carnival officially ended at midnight, but it would take hours for nearly half a million people to disperse and Mitch wanted to get out early. He was our ride home, so we reluctantly decided to leave. As we followed our friends, Jay and I let the crowd push us closer together. His hand stroked my arm and he wrapped his arm around my waist to brace me when the crowd slowly tipped me off balance. We fell back behind our little group a few paces. Jays friend repeatedly looked back at us and stared at our clasped hands, and my friends laughed. I didnt mind. I laughed too. I felt no need to be shy or to explain myself. Jay and I were usually questioning each other and getting into heated but friendly debates, but not tonight. Jay was older, but I didnt care. His family would never accept a girl that was anything other than Korean, but who cared?

I smiled at passing characters and we joined many group photos. Jay asked if my
other hand was cold. It was, and he switched to my right side. Hows Chau staying warm? I wondered as I drifted into a blissful stupor in the living river of bodies and noise. There were quiet, secluded little streets and alleys just off the main road. A couple times Jay suggested that we take these paths for a while. I didnt mind. What are you two doing? Chau protested. Look at all this, Ella yelled over the rumbling mass of people and creatures, You wanna leave it? We might as well see all we can til we get to the car. Those streets would take us out of our way, Mitch added.

We continued down the main stretch and at around 11:00, the energy was intensifying, not waning. Barely perceivable dew had coated everything. Throngs of people still streamed in from side streets. We were slowly being pressed tight against others and got stuck in a bottleneck passage. One person started yelling angrily that she was being crushed and people were getting annoyed. We learned our lesson: dont just watch the fantastic precession, watch where youre going. By 12:00, we reached the congested Beverly Center mall, a few blocks south of the party, and crammed into Mitchells little car. Jay sat up front with his friend and the girls sat in back. We were in decidedly impractical shoes and it felt good to sit down. Mitch blared his aggressive music and we started to inch our way out of the massive parking structure.

With a lurch, Mitch stopped the speeding vehicle in front of my building. Chau had already been dropped off downtown and Ella and Jay walked me to my door. I hugged them goodnight and, with a smirk, Ella walked back out to the car. Jay lingered and we held each other again. Our bodies pressed together and the stubble of his cheek gently tickled my neck. I rested my head on his shoulder and outstretched my hands on his broad and solid back. I closed my eyes. Holding him felt so real after a night of fantasy. God, you smell good, I thought. He never wore cologne, but had a subtle scent about him. He smelled like a man; a clean, vibrant young man. His arms were just below my shoulder blades and one hand glided slowly down my back and curved around my hip. His lips touched my skin for just a moment and we parted. Goodnight, my Korean ninja, I said. He grinned. I laughed.

I shut the door behind me and took a deep breath in the darkness. I fiddled with a lamp to get some light and my small, silent apartment became visible. I looked at the clock: 2:30, 1st of November, 2006, the day to start preparing for Halloween. Jay should be Indian Chief next year, I mused and imagined him, bare-chested, arms exposed, wearing rugged light brown leather pants and moccasins, his dark skin gleaming, a glorious cascade of feathers flowing from his head. I sighed and couldnt help smiling to myself. I pulled off my wig, shed my robe, and washed away the make-up. Nelly climbed into bed with me with the slow groans and glazed eyes of an old dog. I set my alarm for 5:00 and settled in for a little sleep before class.