Originally, to celebrate October, I was going to watch a single classic horror film (that I hadn't previously seen!) each day. This was also in part to prepare me for NaNoWriMo, where I intend to return to the genre in which I am the most comfortable. However, as I was donating plasma today, I decided to watch the 1931 adaptation of Dracula (because I fell asleep watching it last night). And as I was, I came to a conclusion. My interest does not strictly lie in classic horror, but rather in vampire fiction. Therefore, each day of this month, I shall view a vampire movie that I have either never seen, or that I have not seen in so long that I cannot accurately describe the basic plot.

Here's my list, and of course I'll be posting reviews. After all, I've long called myself a cinephile, it's time I began to behave accordingly.

.::.*Edit*.::.
Clearly, I missed some dates. I'll add to them before I get to them. Promise.


01. Dracula (1931)
02. Nosferatu (1922)
03. Near Dark (1987)
04. Kuroneko (1968)
05. Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust (2000)
06. Shadow of the Vampire (2000)
07. The Last Man on Earth (1964)
08. The Addiction (1995)
09. Dracula (1979)
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
19. Salem's Lot (1979)
20. The Hunger (1983)
21. Byzantium (2012)
22. Dracula's Daughter (1936)
23. Marebito (2004)
24. Vampyr (1931)
25. Cronos (1994)
26. Horror of Dracula (1958)
27. Dracula 2000 (2000)
28. Stoker (2013)
29. Daybreakers (2009)
30. Let Me In
31. Night Watch (2004)

I've reached something of a predicament. My plan, as it currently stands, is to enlist in the military in January. This comes at the end of my one year allowance, in which I told myself I would once again attempt college and, if successful, drop the idea of the Marines. I haven't successfully completed any further education goals, and so I return to the desire to become a Marine. However, I do have to wonder, is it the best option? What do I want to do with my life?

Part of me wants to return to the one college at which I was successful. Maybe what I need is to be back on campus, to be back in a dorm, away from the things in life which I'm not ready to confront.

I don't know. I need someone impartial to talk to about this, but I'm not sure who that would be.

Sometimes even I succumb to emotion; panic. It's no lie or big secret that I strive to distance myself as much as possible from my emotions, as I feel they do little to positively augment the decision making progress. Instead I rely on logic and rationalization. This often leads people to label me as cold, unapproachable, other seemingly less than pleasant adjectives. I don't believe these opinions bear much validity, but in my moments of "feeling," I do sometimes wonder how others perceive me, because it does take a great event to quake me to reaction.

I do not understand the persistent belief that emotions are something on which to rely. I cannot fathom how they are essential to any decision, to any choice. There is always a logical reason to do something, and frankly it annoys me when someone cannot, or will not, see this. Of course, as a not so quiet voice murmuring in the back of my head is wont to remind me, this position is in itself illogical. Of course different people process different things in different ways. It's very much what makes the human experience so interesting.

This is not the point I began this post to reach, however.

The past, well, almost month at this point, I have been turning over the same situation in my head. It's been something that I thought, however briefly, that I would not be able to overcome. This fear, and indeed it was that, had me near to paralyzed. I believed my options were drawing slim and fading to nonexistence, and with that surety came the crippling notion that there would be nothing which would make the current struggle logical to proceed. Because you see, second only to my soul deep logical streak, is my sense of pride. The idea, however ill conceived, that I may lose my honor, called to mind stories of heroes and noble suicides. My situation was none so dire, and admittedly I was allowing my thoughts to travel down childish paths, but I thought of it all the same.

How I wish concepts such as bushido were still in large play today. Frequently I feel as though I was born into the wrong time, and never is that so strong as when I realize I would sooner die than compromise myself, however petty this may seem to others. I do not know if I believe in the concept of reincarnation, but were I to have lived a past life or lives, I would like to think that I was a warrior, that I died a noble death. I would like to die a noble death, or the closest facsimile to one, that I can in my current (and only?) existence.

The truth is, I panicked, and in my frantic flailing, someone came to my rescue. I allowed myself to be put in the position of needing such assistance, and I despise myself for it. I do not like being the one asking for help, the one needing it. I am supposed to be the defender, the stalwart guardian against the night. Yet, I suppose even the strongest sometimes struggle.

Ultimately I believe I am stronger for the past month's hardship. My resolve is reaffirmed, and I no longer think of the future in terms of what ifs. There is only one course of action, only one real choice, and I cannot wait until I am able to take that step. The journey begins today, of course, or more accurately, the journey has been long underway. I seek to begin something that most undergo at a younger age, but that doesn't matter. I do things my own way, I do things according to logic.

This? This plan? It's logic, pure and simple. It will shape me into the person I believe I could be, the person I believe I was born to be. Sometimes we are born with greatness, but it is not always something we can unlock by ourselves. Sometimes, we need guiding hands, we need someone who knows better than ourselves.

This is my logic, this is my path. I am proud, and I am ready.

Today, my uncle called me heartless. This was some time after he accused me of being logical to a fault (at which point I held up the Vulcan gang sign, and told him to, "Live long, and prosper"). The apparent reason why I'm heartless and cold is because I don't appreciate the appeal of a quilt made from decades old rags. I suppose it's an all right Christmas gift, if you're giving it to someone who is sentimental, and also a pack rat. Personally, I find the entire concept tacky, but I wasn't going to say that. He, however, had been drinking for God only knows how long, and felt he had to inquire as to my opinion on the project.

Sigh.

I hate that I have to worry about him being there/being drunk, whenever I want to go to my grandmother's house. I can't fathom why she allows him to behave the way he does, as though he is an overgrown, alcoholic child. Mayhap my maternal instinct is too out of tune, mayhap I'm as logical and as cold as he accused me of being, but to me, it makes no sense.

What's worse is that he continuously tells my grandmother how much he adores me, which I maintain is rooted in the fact that I occasionally prefer women to men in terms of attraction (he's gay), than anything else. He's perpetually reminding me that the entire family has always viewed me as the one who would make something of herself, the one who would go on to do more than roll in the mire that is Bloomington. I don't need further reminder of the fact that I remain here, despite being 23 years old.

That last fact is more an annoyance at this point than anything debilitating. In January, I'm going to speak with a Marine Corps recruiter, and from there, everything will fall into place. Every day I train toward that end, physically, at least. I need to find some way to spiritually and mentally cleanse myself. Catholicism is my first choice, but I'm not certain I have the time required to seriously undertake that theological journey. Luckily, the religion will be there when I'm out of the Corps, or even while I'm in it perhaps. I suppose this means it's time to look into other churches that are inherently challenging in their dogma and teaching.

Because that's what I want. A place where I can think, a place where I can ask questions and have someone seriously contemplate the answer. I don't think there's anything wrong with seeking that in an Abrahamic religion.

As always, I'm not sure where I stand, spiritually, at the end of the day, but I feel as though my footing is beginning to edge toward steady ground.

Maybe I was a fool to ever believe things could be different, to have ignored the notion of fate, believing myself removed from the universe's design. I fancied myself a Han Solo, someone who steadfastly refused to believe in an invisible force that governed all things. I don't know if it's God or the Force or just the inevitable eventuality that is the truth, but maybe it's time I stop fighting it.

This isn't who I am. I'm still lying to myself by lying to others, twisting and distorting the truths about myself.

I wanted to keep my intent a secret, for fear of being doubted, but I don't want the secrecy, I don't want my family and my friends to think I'm someone who I'm not. So I'll have to have a few very important conversations, and very soon.

The world is tumbling toward chaos, and I'm not running away. I will never run away again.

Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta moveba.

Oftentimes, I find myself wondering, questioning. My heart is preoccupied by the concept of religion, which is something I did not anticipate being a problem in my life. See, I thought I had things more or less puzzled out; I thought I knew where I stood in this great cosmic mess that is reality. Had you asked me, six months ago, if I would ever again question the nonexistence of a God form, I would have scoffed and said, "Of course not, that's ridiculous; God is dead!" Or something somewhere very along those lines. Yet I find myself on the precipice of attending my first RCIA - Rite of Christian Initiate of Adults - this Wednesday. I have somehow shifted from a borderline atheist, to someone exploring Catholicism. How is this even possible? Have I been so gripped by nostalgia, by the desire for there to be a Creator, that I have become blind to the logical side of the universe? Am I confused? Is it something else, entirely? Is God real? Is He the one behind this, calling me to a church that does seem to genuinely resonate within my being?

I remember when I was younger, when to me there was no reality outside of the one presented at church. I remember being so young, too young to understand, and being absolutely petrified of the book of Revelation, of the things written there. Because, see, I didn't doubt that it would happen, I didn't doubt that Jesus would come back for us, and that, for a period, the Earth would be plunged into a sort of Hell. All of the literal fire and brimstone and etc was utterly real to me. There was no question in my mind, and that persisted well into my teens.

I remember a church camp I went to one summer, where I was so enveloped in the feelings there that I believed myself to be called to the ministry. Nothing seemed more important than supporting my God and spreading the word of my God. I truly believed I was destined for that role, in whatever way it might see me. Children's ministry, I hoped. That was what I wanted.

Somewhere along the way, and I hate to say it was with the death of my Great-Grandparents, but it was, I lost faith. I allowed myself to discard that which had always made me so strong. And I can confidently say that I no longer believe that religion makes a person weak. Believing in God does not make a person weak, just like believing in nature, or the Goddess, or Allah, or any other deity/thought form/what have you, makes a person weak. Maybe religion wasn't the only thing that made me strong, but it would be a lie, it would be an offense, to say that it didn't help. It gave me a certain amount of grace I don't believe I possess any longer, for good or for bad. But as I was saying, somewhere along the way I lost that faith. And now I wonder if it isn't too late to restore it.

And yet, I feel as though I would be betraying some part of me, by returning to church, in fact by entering into a new, much more rigid doctrine. I feel that I would betray the person I have been for the past, well, near to ten years. Because I have been that atheist. I have been combative against Christians. I have mocked and ridiculed religion and those who take it seriously. I have said so many things simply to get a rise from people. And I feel it would be a blow to my pride to admit that, maybe, just maybe, I do believe in God.

Mayhap there's too much going on in my head and heart right now, but I've begun to pray again. Nothing structured, nothing on my knees or anything. Just quiet contemplation while I'm lying in bed. So far... I don't think I've heard anything, which I don't necessarily expect. Yet, perhaps the genuine inkling, that actual wonder, is a sign of sorts... But I don't want to grasp for truths, I don't want to see them where there are none. I want only to no longer feel as though my actions are a betrayal to those I know, that I will not be ridiculed for the choices I may or may not make.

And yet, would I not deserve it? Because certainly I've done enough, I've said enough things, I've been the combatant more times than I would like to admit.

I guess, at the very least, I'm no longer going to make fun of people because of their beliefs. I'm no longer going to challenge anyone, and I'm no longer going to make snarky comments. I don't know everything, and who am I to say what does or does not exist? I'm just a human, a kid, really, desperately holding onto this planet as it turns. I'll never understand it all. I just... Wish I had more people I could talk to about this. At least in that, I know the Church will be able to help me. Regardless of if I ultimately convert or not. They'll help me. And they will not judge me.

Can I say the same about my friends and loved ones?

I'm not so sure.