Monday, November 28, 2011

Zombie Survival Letters

I hope everyone had a better Thanksgiving than I did. I spent mine eating dinner at Denny's and listening all weekend to the details of the fight my Grandma is having with her daughter, my Aunt. Then I come back to work and have to hear about some stupid fight between two co workers that has been apparently raging on since last week. I actually heard one of them say, while complaining because some people (I included, but she doesn't know that) went to our supervisor about her behavior, "Where I come from, it's snitches get stitches. But if you're going to go and snitch on me, you can bet I'm going to go and snitch on your first before you can." Of all the juvenile, ghetto things I've ever heard, this has to be top ...6 at least. We work in a business, not on the fucking street, act at least a little classy and professional.

So many things to face-palm at, so little fucking time to do it. I honestly feel like I spend so much of my time throwing up my hands and backing up going, "I don't care. This is your problem not mine, I'm going to stay out of it as much as possible because I don't care enough to get involved and have a true biased opinion."

Sorry for that mini rant. Just had to get the annoyances out. Now onto more entertaining things.

A few weeks back I entered a creative writing swap/project/...thing. You had to write to your partner as if you were surviving a zombie apocalypse and had gotten split up from them. It was a very neat project; especially since you were encouraged to 'decorate' your letter to match what happened in the letter, or the theme of the writing prompt. So without much ado and because I'm pretty horrible at segues, here are my two letters I sent out, and the two I received. Hope you enjoy reading what I enjoyed writing...and reading.

The first letter I tried to keep serious. I put red dye on my hands and left hand prints as if I had actually been injured and in a rush to write to my partner, and unable to clean the blood off of my hands.

Hey Becky!
Don't mind the blood, paper is scarce where we are and we've managed to stop the bleeding for the most part. Don't worry, none of the blood is from the infected, and I'm not bit either.

Actually we had a run in with looters. We saved most of our stuff. Food mostly, but they got away with some water, cleaning supplies and two med kits.

I am so glad you're at a safe house, how is it holding over there? Listen, in your last letter you were making plans to come to us...DON'T!

The looters are getting crazy, there's very few supplies and the zombies are even braver than the looters. At first they were afraid of our guns, some residual primal fear I guess....they have quickly gotten over that.

I'm trying to get the others to leave with me, I'm heading over to you. Some don't want to go; mainly residents who've lived here forever and a day. Hopefully I'll find an even better safe house you can make your way to on my way.

Catch ya on the flipside,
Addy DelaMorte

The second one, I wanted to try and inject more humor into. I assumed the persona of a kind of annoyed, bored, sorority type who really isn't too worried about her current predicament. The person I had to send to lived in the Netherlands I think, I can't really remember, so I just pretended we were pen pals. I also didn't want to go the normal route of 'Oh noes! Undead viral infection!', so I went a more paranormal route.

Hey! Sorry about the state of the paper!

Before I even begin to tell you the story behind it, let me tell you what I just found out! (I'm fine by the way. My family and I, and a few friends, are still holed up in the college's gymnasium with more than enough supplies courtesy of Mom. She won't stop bragging about how she knew her paranoia would pay off eventually :p).

Alright so, on behalf of my country, let me just say, sorry for the zombies. That's right, they originated here. Remember that weird dude Jeff I was telling you about? The one in math class who always carried a copy of the Necronomicon everywhere? It was him! Apparently he was really into necromancy and is one of those ones with a huge ego (You know, the delusional 'The world will be mine! Mwahahahahahaha!' types.) and magicked them all here. Well not all of them, just the first few that did the biting and infected everyone else. That's why they all seem to have a hive mind. And unfortunately why they're hard to kill. Jeff keeps gloating and strutting all over the neighborhood.

Which brings me to the paper. One of my classmates who is holed up here with us, Brandon, looked outside yesterday and saw his girlfriend who was supposed to be making her way to us. Let's just say she didn't really make it. He was never one to handle stress well anyway. I remember he failed his remedial English final because he saw her hug and kiss another boy and spent all day moping, wondering what to do. (The boy turned out to be her cousin, what the hell Brandon?!)

He went all crazy and decided to just start burning things. Got pretty far too but we put it out and managed to save some things. Now hes in a fetal position in the corner crying. The poor illiterate bastard.

We were worried the commotion would draw them near, but no! I know we all know they are afraid of fire, but they also hate the smell of it too. The got interested because of the noise but once they smelled the burning smell, it drove them away. Some are still lingering but they're keeping their distance.

I think we're onto something here.

Addy DelaMorte,
I hope any of this info helped you somewhat. Stay safe!

I really liked the letters I got back as well. Both of my partners seemed to have some sort of hive mind and based their letters about being on ships when the zombies started attacking.

The first one wrote hers as a diary entry from a little girl.

Dear Diary,
Mommy woke me up early last night and said we were gong away! She said Daddy was gone, I think he left because of me but I won't tell that to Mommy, she's been crying all night and day. We drove all night and out on a boat. It was SO BIG!

We are in a small room with another family. I don't like them, there's a little boy who's bleeding and his Mommy won't let him play with me. His arm looks like a dog bit it and won't stop bleeding, even if they press it tight!

The boy won't shut up now. His daddy tied him to the bed in here! His eyes look red like he has pink eye and now he's bleeding EVERYWHERE! Even his nose is bleeding and his Mommy won't wipe if for him. My Mommy always wipes my nose.

You wouldn't believe it! I went to say sorry to the little boy, and he bit me! What a brat. Now all the grownups are mad at me! This is SO unfair!

I don't feel good. My body hurts and I'm hungry. No one wants to come near me, and all I want is a hug. :(

Amy <3

I thought it was kind of creepy, and a little sad. Poor idiot child with good intentions. I also really loved the drawing at the end. I giggled a bit more than I probably should have.

I was so excited when this last one came in the mail. The sender actually sent it to me in a bottle through the mail.


Dear anyone,
It's been months since the initial outbreak. Almost everyone I've known is gone. There are still a few of us alive, on the aircraft carrier we've fled to. We're safe here for the moment. Food, water, power. Of course, none of us want to consider just how long this will last or what will become of us after these necessities run out. Our little haven in the midst of the storm. For a moment we can almost pretend life is normal, away from the rot of the city and the howls of the undead. We stumbled upon the ship after our little yacht ran dry. Like a beacon of light shining in the distance after hearing our distress call they came and picked us up. Most of the crew had taken ill and were quarantined to the lower decks. No one ventures down past the 3rd deck for this reason. Some have taken to systematically cleaning a few of the rooms, shooting the undead as they go. It's been slow going however as few want to risk being with the zombies in small cramped spaces below deck. The reality and direness of our situation is becoming ever more clear in the understanding that the overstock of food and the water desalination tanks are all down in the bowels of Hell. If the equipment goes down or we run out of food, whether we head to shore or venture below, we will eventually have to face the hordes. Sometimes I think I will wake up, but then I never do.

I don't even know why I am writing this. It seems almost silly or comical to write a note, stick it in a bottle and cast it out to sea. Maybe in a way it's like hope, that this might wash up somewhere and someone will find it, read it and know they aren't alone. Maybe it helps me feel not so alone. Sometimes to pass the time we sit around the radio listening to the static. Late at night in the dark after focusing on the popping for hours you start to hear voices. Never legible words, just mumbles. Even though we have each other, there is still the need of contact. Even the remote possibility of other survivors. I am so weary of hoping. Once in a while we will pass a ship and hail them. Each ship passes without word however, phantoms on the sea. Once we passed a cargo ship, its decks lined with shipping crates. We were close enough to see the undead stumbling towards our ship and falling overboard into the depths of the dark ocean. I had to wonder if the fish would even touch their foul flesh. There are days when I miss land but the ocean has its own ethereal value - the sunsets, the dolphins leaping in our wake. Still out here in the big blue we're stuck with our grief and horror. There's no place to flee our nightmares, no place to tuck them away and forget. I am thankful that I am alive but then what's the point in living if it's every waking moment in Hell, every last breath like some ironic stanza out of the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, the poem I was forced to learn in school and can not shed from my thoughts.

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.

The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie;
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.

I looked upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.

I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came and made
My heart as dry as dust.

I closed my lids, and kept them close,
And the balls like pulses beat;
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky,
Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.

The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they looked on me
had never passed away.

An orphan's curse would drag to Hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man's eye!
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.

Keep hope, I pray this finds you well. Continuing on upon the USS Rosevelt, by the grace of God.


I absolutely loved the inclusion of the poem too. I think it really set the tone overall. Not to mention that the person's writing was quite poetic as well.

These were so much fun to write. It was very neat to come up with my own zombie mythos and create my own rules for the world the people lived in in the letters. Also the writing and creativity practice is always good.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Random Bullshitty Post

I got to go camping with my Scouts this weekend so they could earn their Breathe Journey badges; or whatever the damn Journey books want to call them. I swear 90 percent of the people I was camping with were on their periods. But despite some drama and patience running thin, I still had a good time overall.

It just reminded me how much I would absolutely love to go camping with just my Jessie's and I though. There's so much stuff that we could get done in regards to their etsy shop and my stories/drawings/other creative projects. Especially if it was just us, relaxing and helping to keep each other focused. Plus I like the peace and calm of the woods.

We did tie dye at camp. Here's one of the Jessie's (Chicky) handkerchief that she dyed.

I didn't notice it until JessJess said something, but there's totally a Green Man pattern in the middle of it.

Mine didn't come out as colorful as I had hoped for it to.

Mainly because the girls were bogarting all the dye bottles. Lesson learned for next time, be more aggressive when asking for the blue dye. Or alternatively wait until they're all done and use the second set of dye that JessJess brought to camp. One of these days I want to have a major tie dying day with my Jessie's. I guess it's the hippy in me, I love that shit.

I also learned while at camp that no matter how young you are, once you pass the age of 23, people under the age of 17 regard you as 'old' no matter what. Then there's the little fact that I'm only 5 years away from being 30, 4 years come this December the 20th, and I really feel old.

I also drew two ATCs for a Marilyn Manson swap I was in a while back.

I don't mind this one, I actually quite like it. Except now that I'm really looking at it I kind of fucked up his lower lip. I'm still somewhat rusty with drawing. It's been a long while since I've drawn and even longer since I've tried to draw realistically. I'm much more used to cartooning.

This one I have some qualms with as well. I think I just should have taken a bit longer to do it than I originally did.

I sometimes get so annoyed with any of my creations, written or otherwise. I will look at them one moment and I absolutely love them...then I look at them another moment and I contemplate throwing them away, deleting them, burning them in a purifying fire, what have you. It keeps trading off and on like that and of course I am never satisfied with them. Something could have always been better. I guess in a way that is a good thing though.

I also get annoyed with the size limitations for ATCs. I find it hard to draw or paint or whatnot on small canvases.

Well then, I shall see you bitches after the holidays and will have a more awesome blog post, I promise.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Epic Wish Day

I am contagiously giddy about tomorrow....or maybe I should say today, it is 2:32am at the time of writing after all. Yes, you read that correctly, I said giddy. Giddy like a sexually mature, yet shy, college student about to have tea with Mr.Darcy played by Alan Rickman. Mother fuckers I'm giddy!

Because tomorrow is Epic Wish Day. I even got my co workers talking about it (excitedly I might add) at work, because that's how much of a fucking child I am. I have already set my alarm to 11:00 am.

Wishes are funny to me sometimes. Everyone has their own way of wishing, some sort of little ritual we endow on something that is already a bit of a ritual. Depending on the reason for wishing I have a couple of ways to go about with the actual wish; but the most important part is to close your eyes. Like when 11:11 pops up, you must close your eyes and place your hands flat on the surface in front of you. If you can not do this, then balling them into fists and placing them in your lap is acceptable. Then you must wish for the whole minute and try your best to keep your eyes closed until 11:12.

I don't know why I do that. I have no logical or even illogical reason for balling up my fists or laying them flat in front of me. Sometimes I feel silly afterwards even if I'm alone, like someone is spying on me and saw. But it's just how I wish.

And because I would feel like a douche bag for not including this in the post, tomorrow is also Veterans Day, so take some time between 11:11 am and pm to go tell your veterans how much you appreciate them. Trust me you'll have time, it's like twelve hours between wishes.

I believe I'll be sending my Aunt a text in the military phonetic alphabet (and calling her, don't worry)....because I'm a dork.

Happy Epic Wish Day! And Veterans Day!

I don't usually ask questions to my readers, but I'm feeling curious, so how do you wish? Does it have to be some special way or is your wishing strategy more of a Wham!Bam!Thank you...birthday cake candle/specific time of day/night star type of thing? Also if you do the latter, shame on you people! Don't you know you need to lay your wishes down by the fire on a bear skin rug?

Oh! Before I leave this post, let me leave you with this e-card my friend sent me today. This is one of the myriad of reasons why I love her. Perverted, silly gal she is.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Michigan Fights For Its Right....To Bully

Michigan Senate Republicans have passed a bill that allows people to bully others based on moral and religious reasons. Then, to show that they know what the word 'asshole' means when applied to them, they name it after a gay teen who committed suicide because of bullying that this bill allows.

You can read about it here.

This is the lowest of lows. In the face of all the recent suicides that have happened or will happen because of bullying, this is absolutely sick. These people that have passed this bill should be charged with accessory to a crime. They may not go out there and actively harass someone but they might as well, who knows how many people this will hurt.

What these people don't realize, is that suicide is only one of the things you'd have to worry about with this bill. People react in different ways. Some want to hurt themselves, and some want to lash out. In all honesty, I'm just going to throw it out there, they're setting themselves up for another Columbine or school shooting.

Fuck it doesn't even have to be a school shooting, because this bill applies to all ages and all people.

When I was a child in the 8th grade at Southampton, I was harassed day in and day out by this bitch named Kim. She made fun of me for being fat. All the time. Looking back now at old pictures I realize I wasn't really that fat, but it didn't matter because she made me believe that I was horrendously overweight. She made me believe that I was worthless. I almost failed classes because if she was in one of them I would fake sick, numerous times, to get out and stay at the nurse. The worst part was that my locker was right next to hers and I would continuously either miss the bus or almost miss it because I was too afraid to go near it when she was near. There was no telling what she would do once she saw me.

And as per usual in these types of situations, no one helped me. I told teachers who told me to ignore the girl that pushed me into walls and got in my face to scream at me and tell me how disgusting I was. We were made to go to peer mediation, which is a bullshit way to deal with things, I presume because the principal didn't actually want to deal with it. The mediator was one of her best friends. Kim said I was blowing things out of proportion and her friend looked me in the eye and told me Kim would never do those things. As far as the teachers were concerned Kim was a good person. They never saw her do any of these things, because she was smart enough not to do them while the teachers were in ear or eyesight.

I had no where to go, no one to protect me. Things finally came to a head when she asked to talk to me and lead me into the bathrooms while I was trying to go to my bus. She exploded at me because I had dared to go to someone else for help about what she was doing. She slapped me a couple of times in the face and called me a pig and then told me that if I told anyone she would blow a hole through my head. She told me that she was lucky she didn't bash my face into a wall right then and there.

I went home and it was like I had snapped. I was angry this time. Angry at her for what she had said and did and angry at myself for not doing anything about it. For a week I planned her murder. I had everything figured out to the last detail; or at least I thought I had. I may have been able to hide evidence but the fact that I was planning on running away after that would point everything all at me. Also I was going to dump her body in one of the school trash cans and cover her with trash. Once again, she would have been found. Also there probably would have been a lot more blood than what I originally thought there would be.

One morning before I went to school I stole my mom's car keys and hid them in my room. I was intent on driving as far as I could after school. I took a knife to school and kept it in my pants pocket. All day I looked for her; I wasn't afraid, I was pumped. Also a little paranoid. Every so often my hand would absent-mindedly go to my pocket to check and make sure the knife was hidden and it didn't look like I had one. When I got to my locker I stuck my hand in my pants and gripped the handle and asked her friend where she was. She was sick and didn't come to school that day. I went home and put the knife back when no one was looking and told my mom the keys she was looking for all day had been in my room. Then I played stupid as to why they were there.

I couldn't believe how stupid I had acted. How could I even think of killing another person? How could I have almost done something so absolutely idiotic? I had almost thrown my whole life away.

The next time Kim came into school, she acted different. I'll never know if her friend told her about how strangely I acted when I asked for her, or if someone at school finally listened to me and called her mom or what. I can't remember exactly what she said to me, but she called a truce. She said she'd be my friend and stop hassling me if I went on a diet. I agreed if only to get her out of my hair and to make my living hell finally fucking end.

Later that year I almost passed out in math class and had to be sent to the nurse because I had starved myself for three days and forgot to stay hydrated. After that I got smarter and remembered to bring a water bottle to school. I would have done anything to make her leave me alone and not eating food was a small price to pay. If I remember correctly it wouldn't be until halfway through 9th grade when I would say, fuck this starving shit.

After I graduated 8th grade, my family moved back to our old house. Everyone hated it there. I never saw Kim again and I never had to deal with her. It would be another year before I started to get my backbone and finally start standing up for myself...which gave me the courage to stand up for others when I saw them going through what I went through. That's not to say that everything was absolutely cheery and I had a perfect life or anything, after 8th grade is also when I started to cut to numb myself from the pain. But for the most part when people gave me shit I told them where to stick it...and more importantly I had friends who would if I didn't or couldn't. Friends that treated me like a blood relative and who I also thought of as family.

To this day I've always wanted to confront Kim. Ask her what the fuck was wrong with her and let her know exactly how far I was willing to go to make her quit. Also I get strong urges to punch her in the face. I will always remember the gut wrenching fear I felt all throughout school. The shame and humiliation and the feeling that, even though I had friends, I was all alone in this fight that not even adults were willing to help me with. I remember nights when I would cry into my pillow and pray for God to kill me, or ask Him and His angels why they hated me so much they would allow this to happen.

You can absolutely give a moral or religious reason for teasing someone for being overweight. You can also give a moral or religious reason for bullying someone for being black, mixed, doesn't matter. These Senators are putting people in the same exact position I was put in in 8th grade. I didn't kill Kim and I was brought back to my senses...but who's to say that the next person or people will come to the same conclusions? As I said before, suicide is not the only thing these bill makers will have to worry about. Not everyone is going to stand for someone else's shit.