One of my favorite stories is The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. Let me be completely honest, my first true introduction to the story was the musical Jekyll and Hyde (music by Frank Wildhorn; book and lyrics by Leslie Bricusse).
Yes, many musical lovers look down on Wildhorn’s musicals. I never understood it. Maybe it’s one of those situations where you had to be there in order to “get it”. I was there. I was a teenager when the musical premiered. I loved every second of it. I still love every second of it, no matter which version of the musical you are watching (it’s a long story). I digress, though. My love for the musical prompted me, as a lover of all things books, to read the source material. I loved it, as well! Fantastic read! I recommend it!
Once I read the source material, I always meant to watch the various films based on that story. If you ask me to name which ones I have seen, I can only really name one – the 1920 silent film starring John Barrymore (yes, Drew’s grandfather, pictured above). The film is horrifying in all the best ways. Just look at the interpretation of Mr. Hyde above. Look really, freakin’ deep into his eyes. That is the stuff of nightmares. If you put that Mr. Hyde at one end of an alleyway and Max Schreck’s Count Orlok (aka Nosferatu) at the other end, I’m going to find a way to Spiderman my way out of there!
This year, I want to explore this story and all the versions of it that came after. Starting with the original story (and I find it criminal that I somehow don’t own a copy anymore), then moving to film, television, musicals, and other literature (e.g., inspired by or retellings).
The year 2026 has arrived, and so with it, my goal to post even if I’m the only one who sees it.
How do I put this nicely? The year 2025 can go suck a shoe that has been traipsing liberally through a Walmart bathroom. There are many years that I would never choose to re-live – 2025 is at the very top of that list.
There were creative troubles.
Employment troubles.
The worst part of the year was the passing of my father. When the grief is less potent, I will share more as well as delve into my precious memories and tell stories about him.
So, yeah, 2025 can take a flying leap. No parachute for you!
I’m here, though. I made it. I also made some goals for myself.
Post here more. I mean, I think this needs no explanation.
For years before my father passed away, he kept on telling me he wished I would sit down and finally start writing the book he seemed to believe was inside of my head. For him, I’m going to work on that. It’s a daunting process, but I owe it to myself to try.
I’m going to try to read more and DNF (translation: did not finish) less. How many great books did I miss out on in the last few years because I couldn’t get by the first few chapters?
Watch more horror movies. I used to love watching horror movies. Ever since I was a child, and it was highly inappropriate for me to be watching them (seriously, where were the adults?), I’ve made horror a strong part of my personality. It is high time I went back to my basics. Back to my roots. Is it possible to capture the thrill of fear when you’ve become jaded?
Explore potential new hobbies. How did I come this far without exploring different things I might be good at? I could be a mean, green (secretly Kermit, by the way) sewing machine (ha! see what I did there?), and I might not know I have these powers! Or maybe cooking? Baking? Watch out, Ramsey, I’m coming for you!
Until next time! Let’s hope next time isn’t about seven months from now!
Siemelle
p.s. Yes, I am transitioning away from referring to myself in the third person.
She is, for sure, a morning person. Oh, don’t misunderstand – she is not fully functional when she wakes up in the morning. Please, it is probably best not to speak to her for a good hour after she wakes up (what with the crankiness). However, when she is fully awake, she is usually at her best in the morning. Creatively. Professionally. All the ly’s. At approximately 6 p.m., her brain does start lagging and her understanding of the world becomes foggy, at best.
That question aside, she knows that she has failed to post for quite some time. Forgive her, something transpired this year that prevented her from wanting to interact even on a very silent blog. When she is ready, she will share. She does have every intention of continuing posting. Perhaps she will make that a goal for the new year.
While I won’t divulge my actual name, I am Siemelle, and that name derives from my initials, which are CML. You can try to guess my name or make something up. Go ahead, it’ll be fun. Honestly? I’ll probably answer to whatever you decide on! I just realized I probably already told you I’d be going by Siemelle on my first post here. I also sign each post at the end with that moniker. Moniker? Is that the word I’m looking for? Alias? Pen name? Pseudonym? GHOST NAME! Yes, that’s the winner right there. Siemelle is my ghost name. Don’t question it.
I decided to take it easy today with my post. I scoured the internet (and when I say “scoured,” I mean I searched Google and clicked on the first result) for a fun “This or That” I could fill out and share. This is very mid-2000s of me, I know. If I were on MySpace, LiveJournal, or Xanga right now, it would be top-notch nostalgia.
These questions can be found here. I chose to generate twenty of them randomly.
On with the show!
Happy endings or sad endings?
I am a sad-ending type of person through and through. I want a movie, tv show, book, or song to break me. I think depression has a lot to do with that preference. There is also something very, very cathartic about crying for me.
Sweeping or vacuuming?
Vacuuming is easier. Vacuums are so damn expensive, though. Have they always been that expensive?
Company retreat or company holiday party?
Holiday party. I consider those I work with strangers even though I may see them five days a week. These are people I can’t fully be myself around. Keeping up “work me” for an extended period sounds exhausting. So, yeah, a holiday party it is!
Texting. And don’t you dare call me in response to a text unless you think my existence is in danger!
Concert or sports game?
Honestly, neither. I’m not a fan of large groups of people. If I had to choose, I would go to a concert. I’m more of a music fan than I am a sports fan. That is to say, I haven’t ever, nor will I willingly, sit and watch any sport. No hate. Just not for me!
Snack stash or stationary stash?
I don’t understand this question. I will assume it means I have to choose between a stash of M&M’s or a stash of pens and paper. In which case, it’s a far more difficult question than you may think when you’re me! You see, I love chocolate-variety snacks. However, I also have an unhealthy obsession with pens. I will buy pens just to buy pens. Glitter pens. Gel pens. Pens that look like they will be perfect for my hand. Ah, the pens! But I choose snacks.
Save 100 strangers or one loved one?
I decline to answer. Either way, it’s a lose-lose choice.
Expensive gift or homemade gift?
I will cheat here and go with a cheap, used gift—preferably a book.
Subtly stained clothes or obviously wrinkled clothes?
Hell, I wear wrinkled clothes all the time. Stains bother me, though. Stains are grounds for a change of clothes. I can handle wrinkles and make them work for me.
Sharks or dolphins?
Am I choosing the one I like better or one to fight? I like sharks better and am secretly hoping the Megaladon still exists. If I’m going to fight one, I guess dolphin. I’m going to lose either way.
Puppies or kittens?
In general, both. Which one would be my fur child? Kittens.
Owe money or owe a favor?
Money. There are only a few people I would help “hide the body.”
Yes, she forgot this blog existed (again). Yes, she only remembered within the last two weeks that utilizing that which cost money may be a good idea. So, here she is! And does she have blog post ideas aplenty? Absolutely not! To make things easier on herself, she will continue to divulge just how much of a scaredy cat she was growing up.
Cut cartoon scared cat hiding under blanket. Funny black kitten drawing, vector clip art illustration.
Now, where did she last leave off? Oh, right.
When she was ten years old, her parents had the great idea that they would remove her from her suburban world. Construction began on a rather lovely home with four bedrooms (three on the main floor and one in a finished basement), one bathroom (sadly), a living room, a kitchen, a dining room, and a family room in that previously mentioned finished basement. This lovely home sat on a hill overlooking absolutely nothing for the first year and a half that she lived there. Why? Because she no longer lived on her safe, suburban street in her safe, suburban home (possibly inhabited by Grotost and a giant killer duck). No, she now resided in a rural area with buffalo down the road, cows everywhere, and sheep and goats right next door. In rural Pennsylvania, she met what she was scared of during her first few months living in the middle of nowhere.
Yes, she knows that’s a grasshopper….NOW. She, however, had no idea that it was a grasshopper when she and her parents went out to see how the house was coming along mid-build. To make matters more traumatic, the grasshopper in question had tried to hitch a ride back to suburbia and jumped in next to her in the back seat, where she somehow managed to scream, unbuckle herself, and fling herself to the other side of the seat in less than one second. Benny – that’s how she refers to the grasshopper now – will live in infamy in the deep recesses of her mind with that freakin’ duck.
The good news is that once she realized the grasshoppers were harmless, she enjoyed walking through the grass and watching them jump in panic. Every so often, she would also get to see a praying mantis hanging out near her front door or on the back deck. What isn’t such good news is that while she was perfectly fine walking through the woods, empty fields, and such during the day, the country became a different, spookier place at night.
As it turns out, the darkness is scary in any setting, but it gets terrifying when one is in the middle of nowhere. First, there are no street lights that magically come on at dusk. Second, she has seen the Texas Chain-Saw Massacre and Friday the 13th too many times to fall for that! Third, what even are those sounds? She would make a point not to be out after dark. When new people moved in across the street (she is being generous with her description of ‘across the street’), and they had daughters around her age, if she went home after dark, she never walked or sprinted as quickly as she did trying to get home as she did from the ages of ten to seventeen.
Now, while she was still a little worried about the basement at her new home (even though she was well aware that it was far less terrifying and had way less lead paint… probably), a sudden new fear had made itself known to her during this time, which, oddly, was never a problem back in suburban life: the fear of intruders.
She knows how illogical it is to have worried about home invasions in a rural setting, given that suburban and urban settings have a far larger concentration of people. Perhaps it was because she felt like there was safety in numbers and that if anything happened, surely someone would come to her aid or call the cops (she would learn about the bystander effect years later). Out in the middle of nowhere, few people could hear her in moments of distress. If someone were going to hack and slash, she would have to fight back or head for the trees, and a) she would lose in a fight, and b) she also saw The Blair Witch Project and The Evil Dead. Again, she wouldn’t fully understand that the human monster is far scarier than the inhuman one until she became an adult.
So, there you have it.
It is unlikely that there will be a third part, as she can speak about her fears as an adult in various posts. She would like to believe those fears are much more nuanced now that she is older. To clarify, she is no longer afraid of grasshoppers (spiders are another story), thinks ducks are adorable now, and no longer fears the dark so much, but will ensure she always locks all doors. People are scary! Also, her stuff is in her house, and she knows everyone is jealous and jonesing to get their dirty hands on her book collection. Also, possibly to stabby-stabby her in her sleep.
“A man that flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a short cut to meet it,” — J.R.R. Tolkien
When she was a child, she was afraid of many things. As an adult, she is still scared of many things, but the quality of said fears has shifted to the mature. Like all children, she was afraid of the dark. Like, seriously afraid of the dark. From ages 3 – 10, while living in suburbia, she feared the darkness in two specific capacities. The first, so scared was she of the dark that she refused to go upstairs for any reason without first turning on the light at the top of the stairs (thankfully there was a switch at the bottom) and, even then, someone had to physically come to the bottom of the stairs and watch her ascend, which made going to her room whenever she wanted to or using the only bathroom in the house (naturally located upstairs) a very trying ordeal.
Now, the second instance of her being afraid of the dark may have less to do with the dark and more to do with the fact that her family is comprised of a bunch of shitheads. The basement. She can’t be sure when the suburban house was built, but it was definitely before it was cool to have a finished basement to hang out. This basement was damp and musty; the walls were crumbling with what she could assume was lead paint, and it had a door halfway down the stairs that opened to the side of the house. Why? Why the scary murder door that only intruders would use? Anyway, while the basement was, indeed, scary and dark, it had the bonus of housing two monsters – the duck and Grotost (she is guessing at the spelling of this monster)
Let her explain. She was afraid of the duck in the basement because the neighbor across the street – who was friends with her mother and whose son she was convinced she would marry for years – used to say there was a duck there to get her to behave. Why a duck? She doesn’t know, but young Siemelle must have pictured something horrifying. Why did her mother allow this? She doesn’t have the answer to that either. What is worse? When her mother tried to get her off the bottle and onto a sippy cup, her mother used the duck in her efforts! Mom blamed the duck for stealing her bottle! Older Siemelle doesn’t know where this duck went. Perhaps he retired and traveled Europe with his duck wife, stealing baby bottles along the way—that jerk.
As for Grotost, he was doing her father’s work. Her father always told her about a monster named Grotost and how he came after bad children. (I know what you’re thinking – “Geez, she must have been a pretty bad child for everyone around her to invent monsters.” To that, she says mind your business!) And Grotost? He lived in the basement with the duck. We don’t talk about Grotost anymore. She did a Google search to find any information she could about said monster. She assumes he is a German monster because her father’s family is German. However, she believes that internet sleuths have vanquished all mention of said creature, ensuring that he is securely locked away in the bowels of the internet (like on page 237 of a Google search because no one will search beyond page three). Thank you, courageous warriors. Thank you.
Stay tuned for part 2, where she is still afraid of the dark as a teenager living in a rural community.
Most fears are basic: fear of the dark, fear of going down in the basement, fear of weird sounds, fear that somebody is waiting for you in your closet. Those kinds of things stay with you no matter what age.
While there were many treasures at said book fair, she only cared about the books. She only purchased the books. Bookmarks be damned. Color pencils? Snorts. As if. Posters? Erasers? Shirley, you jest! So passionate about books was she that she even participated in the crème de la crème of reading challenges:
Oh, Pizza Hut. Read some books, and get a free pizza. You are brilliant and likely the reason she was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis when she was seventeen. To this day, pizza of any kind hurts her. Since she can no longer safely eat that delicious, carb-infused goodness, she has to plead with the almighty Panda Express to see if they’ll do an adult version of your childhood shenanigans. For every ten books read by an individual 18+, one free Orange Chicken entree. Come on, Panda! Get on this! There is a slew of cliterature enthusiasts I know would jump on this bandwagon!
By the time she was in the fifth grade, she was thoroughly done with Judy Blume and had moved on to what many would consider inappropriate. V.C. Andrews, anyone? Anne Rice, for sure! She feels very cheated that the internet was in its infancy, there was no YouTube, and she had yet to be introduced to Xanga back when her reading was more open to all genres, when she was more enthusiastic and had far more energy. Alas, it was the 1990s. Practically the Dark Ages. She missed her calling to be one of those fancy BookTubers or BookTokers. As Mama Rose would say, “I was born too soon and started too late.” Points for all you theater people who understand that reference.
By the time the internet entered adolescence, she was in her twenties and had started college. Once from 2001-2005 and again from 2011-2013 to complete her Masters. Ask any college student – whether they attend a traditional campus or online – the last thing anyone wants to do is add more reading onto all the reading, writing, studying, and crying (True story: cried a few times in college, and she’ll save that for a different post) they are trying desperately to complete. There was a period where she didn’t read much of anything unless it was part of a textbook. Even after she finished her degrees, her reading didn’t return to normal for quite a few years after.
The year 2020 has entered the chat.
2020: A/S/L?
To those of you old enough to understand that, how is your back doing? Are you getting enough fiber in your diet? Her last colonoscopy was circa 2018. When was yours? She wears bifocals now. Isn’t that wild?
Anyway, 2020 happened, and with it came a new love of reading; her passion for books re-emerged. With that renewed vigor for all things fiction, so came one of her new policies on reading. She is older now. She has finally realized it is perfectly alright not to finish a book she is not enjoying. Teenage Siemelle would never! Teenage Siemelle would kick older Siemelle’s ass because what if she stops reading a book that was for sure going to be excellent? To that older Siemelle says, ain’t no one got time to take that chance. So all of a sudden, she has been DNFing (short for Did Not Finish) books left and right. To the point where she knows she needs to dial it back a little. She paid for the books she’s refusing to read, after all.
Her New Year’s resolution is to finish all the books (physical and Kindle-based) she starts reading, even if they happen to be travesties of epic proportions.
All Fauxn Up 