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it's been a while since I posted anything, but I feel a lot of fluid ideas brewing inside of me. Sometimes I wonder why do I write....it's kind f because it's freeing, and I sometimes like to look back on my creativity. Internet Gods please hold me to updating my blog. I would love to write about; my non existent love life, internet dating, my new place, and sex toys....(be that got your attention!)

Life and Zombies...

Hey All, I wrote this paper for my writing class a few semesters ago, and I wanted to share with the millions of people who read this site. Okay maybe just like 2 or 3. The paper is about me, and the things I need to work on about myself. “Sometimes I’am who I think I’am”…. My former self, before the world erupted in fire and zombies became my new neighbors. Some say former Vice President Dick Cheney ate a plate of tainted haggis and started the zombie pandemic. My family has managed to survive through ingenuity and sheer guts. When the looting started thank goodness they had me. I’m a comic book nerd, and knew that this would happen one day. I basically wrote the book on zombie survival. During the day we would scavenge for only essentials, we all knew we would be locked down for a while; Generators, batteries, a flat screen, can goods, and a few live chickens. All collected not too far from where all 29 of my parents, siblings, nieces, and nephews now reside. I’m glad we’ve suffered no causalities, but if this situation doesn’t change we may due to sheer insanity of proximity. Maybe my family has lasted this long because we have all seen each other’s dark side. We have celebrated what we believe to be our birthdays, and other milestones. We have long lost track of the days. We have also wept, mourned, and given up hope so many times. I try to help, and keep everyone together with random jokes, trivial facts, and impersonations. I’m running out of material, and I think I may just be an annoyance now. Before the pandemic started I attended college to be a psychologist, maybe my self-righteous need to help others is a projection on myself; A cry for attention to make myself feel better. I always felt I had a pretty good grasp on who I was. Before the end of the world I lived a pretty good life. I’ve lived on both ends of the spectrum. A hedonist turn born again believer in living without excess. As a teen I lived with my grandfather, and after he died he left my five siblings and I destitute, and indebted to his bookies. We worked hard to break even, and lived pretty substantial lifestyles after…till now. We were born to survive, but survival doesn’t come without its glitches. The glitches all started after my sisters “birthday” she was taking a long time to blow out the candle on her Twinkie, and I was getting rather agitated. We saved the sweets for special occasions and I have long been looking forward to this. With a cynical smile on my face, I looked up to horror and disgust on my family members faces. I didn’t realize I had said “She doesn’t deserve a Twinkie, she’s lazy and doesn’t pull her weight”. What was supposed to be a joyous moment, turned into one I would love to repress to the dark abyss of my mind. I had no idea I spoke those words aloud. While being scolded by my eldest sibling, I didn’t see how I was wrong. I was speaking the truth, and the truth should never be sugar coated. After seeing my sister’s face, and how I hurt her, my self-discovery begin. Maybe the slip of tongue was just what I needed. It’s not the first time word vomit has bested me, but this time was more poignant. The repercussions of my statement have a face, and assaulted me with a bitter slap of realization. My brother still found it to be quiet funny. Maybe he hasn’t reached his epiphany. When I muster up the courage to stare out the window, I find myself enraptured by the zombies. I often day dream that I am one of them walking contently in the pursuit of brains. Maybe being a zombie isn’t all that bad, the process of becoming one is. Although I don’t want to become anyone’s meal and I won’t be consuming haggis anytime soon. Usually in a daydream involving zombies a normal person would be frightened. I’m more so intrigued by the not so lore anymore. The freedom they represent excites me. They come and go as they please, they are free from worry, and are driven by what I believe to be sheer pleasure of flesh. Flesh is not at all appealing to me, but the insatiable desire for what you love can never get mundane. Being unafraid to embrace the darkness is the main focus of my thoughts. Even before the world ended I was cautious and lived in constant fear of my fellow man. I abstained from reading or watching the news for three years. The stories were always horrific, and made me realize that being kind and polite isn’t as normal as my elders taught me. My beacons of hope are now my memories. I try to remember the better times, but they are often cloudy and short lived. The whole ordeal has made me very reflective. An internal war has been waged on my subconscious and the repressed thoughts of my mind have been driven out, filling me with anxiety, fear, and self-doubt. I often think of myself as the leader of the group, but after a talk with my mother I have learned that I am indeed not. She let me know that I can often be a know-it-all, mean, and that my hubris is my downfall. I was taking aback thinking that I was being truthful, and witty. Qualities all leaders should possess. I learned that I was not being a beneficial member to our unit, and needed to snap back to reality. In order for use to work well as a unit I had to check my ego at the door. I was holding on to memories when in the end I had my health, sanity, and family. I have visited the darkest corners of my mind, and even witness horrible acts of cannibalism, and survival, but I feel I came out on top. I’m still sane and a work in progress. I still daydream about being a zombie, but the prospects of remaining a human seem less bleak. Dont mind my errors...this was just the first draft.