The Beginning?

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/blackberry/p.html?id=1548359

This sounds exactly like a cover-up for the dawn of zombies. I joke with my friends about the beginning of this end, pretend like it doesn't kind of freak me out. But, well, yeah.... I hope in ten years we don't look back and say, "Told ya so."

Why Zombies in San Diego Will Suck (And of Course Bite)

In the process of apartment hunting in San Diego, it quickly became apparent to me that if an outbreak of reanimated corpses were to suddenly appear off highway 8, I would become a human sandwich (perhaps on rye) within moments (I think I would taste best with some Dijon mustard, too). This place is flipping cramped, a never-ending sea of urban sprawl. Cripes, I could hope to confiscate one of those shiny boats in port, but since I can barely navigate Cally's freeway system, I am more likely to find myself drifting to my death rather than being eaten. 

These thoughts hang in the back of my mind as we weight the benefits of living close to downtown versus the es-capability of more easterly locations.  I mean, there is either the ocean to the west (not drinkable) or the desert to the east (likewise parch). At least with my jeep, I could off-road to life? 

Doesn't this stuff ever freak city people out? Do they care that they are a small disaster away from death and destruction? I have always felt super uneasy in crowds, unsafe, likely to be trampled to death. I dislike being about to smell their breakfast through my walls, cringe at the blast of their horrible tastes in music, and wait for them--ugh, I hate waiting.

I understand people want to be in the know, in the now, deep in the heart of the city. But, why does it seem so many are willing to sacrifice their safety for the ability to walk to 10 bars rather than 2 in the suburbs? I know there is more to it, but I genuinely do not get/accept/want to be so dependent on the whims of others when my life and my family is at stake. Call me paranoid, but at least when the zombies come, you can still call me.

To Survive or Not To Survive (that's right, I made a poorly veiled Shakespeare reference)

If I were to have a fatal flaw, I believe it would be hesitation. If there was to be one character trait that would probably do me in during a zombie apocalypse, it would likely resemble an inability to make swift, life-saving choices that would propel me from being undead fodder. I mean, what would I do with my cats? They aren't exactly portable. If the whole thing blew over in a few days, I would be sorely pissed to have set them loose on the world and never have the chance to see them again. I'm going to be moving to a location without a good freshwater source. Should I by-pass the family nearby for more fertile grounds? What about gas? I might have jeep, but it certainly wouldn't get me far enough to resources before I'd need to refill. 

Governmental obligations would likely cause my husband and I to split (at least for a bit). Do I hang around the port for him or deftly drive up to safety? What if that determines whether we'll see each other again? Sometimes, these questions plague me--and maybe they should.

Really, the come down to a lack of planning. To best survive catastrophes, it is recommended to already have contingency plans in place. I asked my husband about this a few months back. He seemed fine with whatever choices I make--where ever I go. But, my hesitation at even this hypothetical situation leaves me breathless. I know this is all something which can be dealt with. Those planners on the Discovery channel certainly seem to have their pulses on this survival gig. 

Yet, would even their plans have preparations laid out for every possible scenario? Well, no, but I do assume they will be better able to adapt. Just because one cannot know the future does not mean one should not make arrangements just in case.  

I've begun with the basics: building a bug out bag, learning the roads and highways of America, building connections throughout my journeys, and improving my overall health and endurance. There will be more to learn, more to overcome as I await Z-Day. Perhaps with more time and training, my general hesitation will become less deadly.  

What flaws do you, phantom readers, believe you will struggle with most? How do you intend to prepare for them before the real dangers begin gnawing at your bloody stumps?

It's All About the Rides

A few days back, I purchased my first anti-zombie vehicle. I am now a Wrangler-ette. For a multitude of reasons (mostly having to do with Sarah Conner), I've always wanted a Jeep. Now, I can actually off-road independently and feel like the monster-eating beast I'll need to become should the world degenerate into a land of thriving and writhing undead. Oh, happy thought indeed...

Grandma Bought Me a Gerber

When pursuing knives at the Exchange, my grandma only giggled when I pointed out the small gerber (accompanied by a multi-tool contraption) I wanted for Christmas. She bounced off to find a bored sales associate to open the lock preventing me from clutching the blade with my greedy paws. My mother, a bit less enthusiastically, placed my other survival gift (a nifty fire-starter) into the cart and asked if she should be worried about her children's seemingly sudden preoccupation with blades, camping gear, and wilderness techniques. I explained how years of living with a marine (my father) has always encouraged a general interest in survival for my brother and I regardless of our current living conditions. He does also work in a camping store and I in the imagination.

Oddly enough or rather given my long lasting love for the macabre, she firmly placed my fire-starter thing (I'm sure it has a real, more serious sounding name) and a twin of it in the cart for my brother. Still not quite reassured, I gently noted that it's not as if we were buying solely gear for a zombie apocalypse (though of course I'm now running scenarios of my awesomeness through my mind about starting fires and cutting important things and of course zombies). Having recently prepped for the hurricane season, I told her it was always good to just be prepared for any emergency. You won't think you are so silly when you actually need that strong toothed cutter thing or a zombie comes barreling down the hall intent on snacking on your sinew (Maybe I left that last part out while comforting her). 

It is interesting though how we "worry" about those who prep for emergencies. In some ways, one does not want to be that person who wasted precious time and resources planning for an event so terribly unlikely to occur. Perhaps, though, this smacks more of complacency or even naivety. It is probably pretty obvious I live in North America where the majority knows little of survival or suffering. I don't mean to say we are all so ignorant as I do know several individuals who understand much about pain, poverty, and starvation in my neck of the woods (more than I ever have). I am just not sure most of us do--at least not according to our popular culture.  Maybe we know more than we pretend we do. I hope that will help us. 

In the mean time, I'll continue collecting my knives and other odds and ends of knowledge. Have you, phantom readers, been mocked for your preparations? Or, do you think under the rumble or ridicule, those who make fun are strangely relieved that some one has taken initiative?

Undead Students

Slack jaws, dazed expressions, inability to raise head from the desk it's seemingly cemented, too, failure to demonstrate cognition, etc. I see the zombification of students on a daily basis and they still have warm blood in their veins. What would it be like if they were real zombies?

I wonder if they even see/define themselves the same way....

California Creeping?

What might zombies think of Cally? Easy dining? Would west coast undead be more laid back, slower creatures?