My mom's favorite story to tell (complain about, really) is that when I was three years old, I told my dance instructor that I watched A Nightmare On Elm Street. As if it were somehow my fault that she was embarrassed that I told this woman I was allowed to watch Freddy Krueger murder people in their sleep. When I point out that I was a child and someone turned the movie on and let me watch it, she blames my dad, pretending she had no say in the matter.
The point is, I grew up on horror.
Thinking back, the first scary movies (I use that term loosely for one of them) I ever remember watching are House On Haunted Hill and Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, and to this day, I still love both films. I was raised on Vincent Price movies. I knew him by name before any other actor and I couldn't get enough of him.
When I was old enough to read, I would always go to the library and borrow Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. The stories rarely scared me, but the illustrations kept me up at night. I would beg either of my parents to bring me to the book store so I could buy more Goosebumps books (and not long after, Fear Street, because Goosebumps just wasn't scary enough).
Now that I'm older, I'm a bit more particular about the kind of horror I enjoy. While Freddy was entertaining when I was a child, I'm no longer interested in his antics. And I've moved on from creepy stories about babysitters being stalked, as well. Today, my favorite kind of horror is psychological.
Movies no longer scare me. I've tried so hard to find something, anything, that will make me lose sleep, but the only film to unsettle me that much is In the Mouth of Madness. If I want to be truly scared, I have to turn to video games and Lovecraft.
I decided to start this for fun. I'm terrible at sticking to a schedule, but I would like to try to post at least once a week. I have no plans to even attempt to promote this blog, so if people find it, they find it and if not, I'm okay with talking to myself.
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