lost? like every decision you've made is the wrong one? like your life is passing you by and even though all this time has elapsed you haven't really accomplished anything? I guess it's just part of getting older but it's still a little depressing.......unless you put it into perspective with and upbeat melody, catchy lyrics and a section of horns. I love you less than jake. you always seem to know exactly how i feel.

1989
"Let me give you some insight into my insides
I haven't been this confused in such a long time
you can't believe I've spent years just losing my mind
I can't believe that 10 years have really gone by
it's been a long time
Had a plan for every year I've been alive
a million more I've built up inside of me
there's a million more that I have bottled up
and that I've fucked up
do you feel like the hard times are mountains you've climbed lying awake
it still feels like it's '89 it's been along time
those mindless days the plans that I've made
the countless mistakes all the times I've changed
through the years I faced all that's kept me sane
every single day"

although, i suppose in my case this song should be called "1999"

one more

"The Upwards War and the Downturned Cycle"

"All my friends always talk about
The stories of moving on and getting out
Then packing up and heading south
Their heads full of hopes and dreams
They’re just like me

My friends aren’t going anywhere
My friends all act so unaware
Now that they have to face
Their best plans have all gone up in flames

They’re just looking for something to take
To break up the day to day and all its
Loneliness, vacant space
The tragedy of minimum wage

All my friends always talk about
The stories of moving on and getting out
Then packing up and heading south
Their heads full of hopes and dreams
They’re just like me

My friends are worried about last calls
And working jobs at shopping malls
Because they’re in between
A mixed up pride and apathy
So tonight they’ll talk of callin' in
Calling in with bitter grins
Laughing at the state they’re in
What a mess, I’m just like them

All my friends always talk about
The stories of moving on and getting out
Then packing up and heading south
Their heads full of hopes and dreams
They’re just like me

So they’re sleep walking their way through life
Sitting there and getting by
Like all the other friends of mine
Wishing for something more
Wishing for something more

All my friends always talk about
The stories of moving on and getting out
Then packing up and heading south
Their heads full of hopes and dreams
They’re just like me"

one of them being an unnatural love for fall out boy that could rival that of any 14 year old girl.
 
"imperfect boys with their perfect lives, nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy."
 
don't judge me.
 
 
 

We drive in silence for half an hour before he finally speaks. “Well, that was a close call.” He is attempting humor but my shock is wearing off and I am finally beginning to feel the sheer terror and intensity of the situation I awoke to a mere two hours earlier. “Just shut up and drive.” It’s practically a whisper but he can sense the irritation in my voice and leaves it at that. Another hour passes and as I stare out my window I can’t help but notice how desolate it seems out here. It’s like we are in a different world. Or at least a world that hasn’t been completely turned upside down, yet. Driving north on the old two lane highway, the farther we go the more we are surrounded by mountains and trees. We have already passed through one small town. Everything was quiet and it seemed as though it was untouched by the chaos that was currently taking over the city barely an hour away. David noticed this too. I could practically hear his thoughts. He wanted us to stop and warn them. Our eyes met for the briefest of moments before he turned back to the road. “It’s pointless,” I reply to his unspoken question, “They’ll just think we are insane. Especially with the way we look. We’d probably end up in jail.”His response comes in the form of a heavy sigh and he continues driving. We let the town grow smaller behind us, leaving it completely unaware of the unspeakable horrors that are no doubt headed their direction from barely fifty miles away. The sky is beginning to lighten as dawn approaches. Occasionally another car also heading north speeds past us going at least ninety miles per hour on the nearly deserted road. The sense of urgency and panic makes it obvious they are coming from the same place as us. Things must be getting worse. And then a thought pops into my head. If any of those cars have injured people in them there is a possibility they are spreading the disease and their attempts at escape will not only mean certain death for them but for us as well.I don’t speak again until the sun begins to peek over the mountains. “We are going to need supplies. Water, food,” I look at the gas gauge hovering just below the quarter tank mark, “definitely gas. And some sort of weapon.”He blinks and nods as the information registers in his brain then speaks, “I don’t think it’s got this far yet. We could probably stop in the next town and get what we need.”“Hopefully.” We were going to have to stop soon regardless. We were running out of gas and I wasn’t about to get stranded on the side of the road.Twenty minutes later we see the road sign for the next town. Population 537. I figure, if the town was overrun by the undead at least there would be less of them to deal with. The gas station we pull up to is dark inside, but has self serve after hours pumps so we can swipe a credit card and fill our tank. I cautiously step out of the vehicle and move around to the back. Rummaging around, I produce an emergency gas can. As I am doing this I am pleasantly surprised when my hand runs over something long and cool that feels like metal. It’s an aluminum baseball bat left over from the co-ed adult softball team David and I had joined the previous spring. He was the team’s power hitter and I was the shortstop that never let a grounder turn into a base hit. We won all but one game. “Look what I found.” I walk around to the side of the car were David is pumping gas and handing him the gas can, I hold up the baseball bat. He gives me a look that borders on disgust and I can tell he is thinking logistically of what exactly will happen if one of us needs to use it as an actual weapon. I hand him the bat.“We will go together.”Our gas tank now full, we head towards the darkened store. Approaching the front we find the door locked. Moving around to the side we there is an employee entrance and the door is unlocked. Bat raised with me keeping watch from behind, David slowly opens the door. What greets us though is nothing more than complete and total darkness. It appears to be a hallway or perhaps a stockroom. If we could find the lights we could probably get all that we needed without even setting foot in the front of the store. This was definitely a bonus because I had to admit, all those big windows in the front made me a little nervous. We slowly make our way in letting the door gently close behind us. This simple act plunges us into utter blackness and I have to feel along the wall to know where I am going. David and I are hand in hand and even in the dark in know his other hands is wrapped tightly around the bat, poised ready to take on any potential attacker. We travel like this for a few yards and I am confused as to who designed this place and why the light switch isn’t next to the door. I am pondering this when my hand brushes against something warm and wet. “Jesus Christ,” David buckles next to me as he slips on something, “be careful it’s wet right here.” “The wall is wet too.” Suddenly I am aware of the fact that something is very wrong here. That’s when I hear the moan. “Get up,” it comes out as hiss because I’m attempting to not yell. My hand feverishly searches along the wall and through the wetness that I instinctively know is blood. The protruding plastic meets my fingers and I flip the switch. My hand immediately covers my mouth in an attempt to suppress my scream. Shit. Now I have blood all over my face. That thought combines with the scene presenting itself to me and I barely stifle the gagging as I feel the bile rise to my throat. This must be the gas station attendant. At least this is what is left of him. Both legs have been torn from his body leaving jagged half eaten stumps. There is a gaping wound where his lap used to be. Pink and purple ribbons of flesh spill from the opening. They are also ragged and ripped as if they have been chew on. I begin gagging again as I realize that the ribbons on the floor are the young man’s intestines. The smell radiating from the cavity is overwhelming and sickening. But the worst part is the look on the man’s face. Anguish mixed with hunger stare back at me as he moans and reaches for us. David is upright now but his entire left side is soaked with fresh blood from falling. If whoever did this hadn’t torn this boy’s legs off we would’ve been goners for sure. This is the first time it has occurred to me that there could be someone else still in the store. I look around frantically trying to locate something that can be a weapon when my eyes fall on a crowbar. I rush to it impulsively and as I reach for it resting against the wall I feel something ice cold and sticky grab my wrist. And I am face to face with my worst nightmare. His face is covered in blood as his other hand discards the attendant’s leg. His interest is now obviously piqued by a fresher meal. I try to pull away but his grip is much stronger than I expect from a dead man. I am about to scream for help when David’s aluminum bat comes crashing into the side of my attacker’s head. He is momentarily dazed and releases my arm. Crowbar in hand I swing at the back of the man’s head as hard as I can. He falls to the ground. David and I hover over him pummeling his skull with our respective weapons until all that remains of his head is a bloody pulp. We are blood spattered and out of breath when David chooses that exact moment to vomit all over the decomposing body that now lay motionless at our feet. I lurch away from the scene unbalanced and lean against a shelf in an attempt to steady myself. When David is finally done emptying the contents of his stomach he joins me. “It’s time to go.” I have regained my composure but my voice is still barely a whisper. I grab bags of beef jerky and a box of power bars. “Grab a couple cases of water and let’s get out of here.” He wordlessly obeys me and soon we are back outside. They morning air is misty and ominous as we exit the back of the gas station. We load our findings including the crowbar now red and sticky into the back of the truck along with the bat. We are just about to get into the car when my senses are suddenly assaulted with the sound of a siren and flashing blue and red lights. “DON’T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT MOVING!” It’s a cop and somehow even without turning around I can sense that he is point his gun at us. I shoot a glance at David. If it was possible for his face to get any paler it would be. “Now turn around slowly.” We oblige and I can hear the officer’s sharp intake of breath as he assesses our appearance. He momentarily lowers his gun. “Is that…..all blood?” I nod grimly. “Are either of you hurt?” the young man seems genuinely concerned. Until David opens his mouth. “No officer, we are alright. It’s not our blood.” I groan inwardly and stiffen once more as the officer quickly raises his weapon. “What are you two doing here?” he glances at our license plate and says “you folks aren’t even from around here.” It sounds like it should be a line from a movie. I almost laugh. The deputy’s eyes narrow and I know he is waiting for an explanation. So I open my mouth and having no idea what to say begin speaking. “Something is happening in the city. We don’t know what. Riots I think. Everyone’s gone nuts. Our neighbors attacked us. We were defending ourselves. We just started driving, trying to get away. We stopped here because we needed gas.” I stop and am momentarily impressed with my story. Sure it sounds strange but it’s also relatively believable. Believable enough that for an instant I think that I have convinced the deputy to lower his weapon. But he stops. “What were you doing in there?” he nods toward the store. David shudders next to me and I can tell he is replaying in his head what just happened inside. The officer continues, “Looks like you broke in.”“No,” I say it a little too quickly then add, “The back was unlocked. We were looking for help.”He contemplates my story before finally responding, “I’m not sure what to make of your story but I better take you over to the station. We’ll see what the sheriff has to say about this.”I am shocked. “Are you arresting us sir?” it barely escapes my lips.“Look lady, you and your husband are covered in blood and talking crazy. I can’t let you go. In fact you might be dangerous. I’m gonna have to handcuff you. I’ll put you in the back then go check out the store.” All I can do is let out a sigh. We’re fucked now. He does as he said and as he is disappearing into the store I turn to David now sitting next to me in the back of the squad car. “He going to think we murdered those people.” “ Well, only one of them is completely dead. We left the other one still thrashing around.” As David finishes his sentence I see the deputy emerge from the back door running. He stops and doubles over retching. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand he limps back to the car and gets in the driver’s seat. “You mutherfuckers are insane!. What the fuck did you do in there? And??….how?….he was still alive? Fucker bit my ankle! I’m not sure what’s going on but when we get to the station the sheriff will get it outta you! SICK! That’s what you are!” He is hysterical. As he peels out of the station he is still ranting like a lunatic even though we are supposedly the disturbed ones. Guess it doesn’t matter though. If I am right, with that bite on his ankle he won’t be around much longer to see the shit really hit the fan. All I can do now is hope he doesn’t take us out with him.

The continuation......


We drove through the suburban nightmare. My senses were being accosted by noises and imagery that even at their most horrifying had only existed in the realm of my dreams. Until now. Screams and what sounded like gunshots echoed through my mind. Eyes wide, I could make out people in the darkness. Some were running, some lay motionless in the streets and yards. And some of them stumbled forward with a gait that suggested that they could now longer be referred to as people. Not sure what else to do I reach into the back seat and fumble for my gym bag. In it I find a sweatshirt and a pair of running shoes. I slip on the shoes. Pulling the sweatshirt over my head I try my best to ignore the rapidly drying blood on my tank top. It's not my blood. This I know for a fact. But whose blood is it? The question threatens to overwhelm my racing mind. I am deterred though I hear a wince for the man sitting next to me. A jolt of panic surges through my body and I tense immediately.
What's wrong? Are you hurt?" I demand shrilly. Then in barely a whisper, "Did they bite you?"
True, I am technically unaware if this situation is the same thing my late night Romero marathons tried their best to prepare me for, but I figure it can't be much different. He pulls up his shirt sleeve to reveal four long gashes. Imbedded in one is something shiny and pink. He grimaces and pulls it out.
"Marion and her god damn fake nails. I'm so glad you never bought into that crap."
I let out a strangled semi laugh and repeat my last question, "no bites though?"
He pats my bloody knee and smiles.
"No bites."
Relief washes over me but it is short lived when bloody hands begin pounding on my window. I can hear screaming and through the smears of blood can make out a teenage girl fumbling to open the locked car door. She is looking at me now, eyes pleading as blood gushes from fresh wounds on her neck and chest. David punches the gas pedal and we drive off quickly just as the others surround her to finish what they started.
I turn on the radio and am not surprised when I am greeted with static on nearly every station. I turn to AM and continue flipping as I stare absently out the windshield. It's still dark. The clock on the dash reads 2:43 AM. The air is cool and the sky is clear. Under normal circumstance this would be a perfectly lovely night. But something has gone very wrong tonight. And I wasn't watching a movie. And this seemed awfully realistic to be a dream. I am still contemplating the likelihood of this all being in my head when David reaches over and roughly pinches my arm.
"What the hell was that for?" I pull my arm away rubbing the tender flesh.
"Just bringing you back. And showing you that this is real. We aren't in one of your crazy dreams."
He knows me too well. This includes the fact that I have reoccurring dreams that are just like this. They are the only ones I can ever remember and always involve apocalyptic disaster in the form of reanimated corpses bloodthirsty and hungry for human flesh. Is that really what is happening now? If so, why are we so calm?
He pulls the SUV out of the neighborhood and onto the main road. My attention is immediately drawn to a brightness permeating the dark night. Fire. We pull up onto the sidewalk in an attempt to pass the six car pile up. Two cars are on fire and in one of them I can see and man and woman trapped inside. The woman is screaming and the man appears to be unconscious.
"We should help," David stops the car before I can object begins opening the door. That's when I see it. The unconscious man's eyes open. They are blank. It is the same stare I remembered on the Johnsons. His companion momentarily stops screaming and reaches for him. He responds by gnashing his teeth and biting off her fingers. Geysers of blood erupt from the stubs. The screaming starts again but is quickly silenced by his teeth ripping at her throat. Our car door open and David half way out I pull him back in just as a set of bloody hands reach for him. The car door slams and I recoil in disgust as I look at David's lap. There resting on his jeans are three fingers. They are a purplish color and one is missing a finger nail. David lets out a yelp and brushes them off of him and onto the floor. I hear the smashing of glass and instinctively know that we no longer have all of our windows in tact.
"Drive!" I scream. And we peel out and into the night. Away from the wreckage, the fingerless dead guy in the road, and the man in the car eating his wife's voice box.

Inspired by blood lust....and another person posting a zombie short story I felt compelled. This is only the beginning.



What initially woke me up, I'll never know for sure, but the fact remains I awoke just in time to watch my snarling neighbor smash his body through my bedroom window. Later, while crouched in the garage, my blood soaked pajamas sticking to my leg I would lament the fact that we had chosen the single level rather than a two story home. What does it matter though? They would've found another way in.
I am forced out of my shocked induced reverie by a whisper coming from somewhere near the lawnmower. "Sarah?" the voice is so strangled and terrified I barely recognized my name. I gasp and raise the shovel I just realized I was holding ready to attack but stop short. Zombies don't whisper…..do they? Recognition seeps into my brain as I see the shape of my huddled husband, equally blood soaked but relatively unharmed. Great minds think a like. We both made it to where the car is. But he is smarter than me, and despite our current circumstances I can't help but smile when I see what is dangling from him hand. He remembered his car keys. A crash from in the house brings me back to reality and I run to him, embrace him quickly the whisper, "Let get the hell out of here."
They might as well have been my fateful last words. After all the horror movies I had seen, did I really think the horrifying experience I had just barely survived was limited to my suburban ranch style house? How could I be so foolish? But we were out of options and the sheer terror of the situation had left out minds muddy and incapable of logical thought. We were running on pure survival instincts now. Just as he was putting the key in the ignition they broke through the door. Despite their appearance I recognized them immediately. The Johnsons. Steve, Marion, and their son Charlie stood in the doorway vacant and growling. Charlie was missing part of his skull. A disturbing and startlingly wound especially on a seven year old boy. Marion in her blood stained floral nightgown had a hole in her cheek, the white bone peering through from underneath. The only one missing was the baby-little Julia. Obviously unable to shamble next door with the rest of the family, Julia was barely six months old. The realization would come later. She was probably their first meal. Her blood and brain matter was still caked to her father's face. No time for garage door openers, David put the car in reverse and slamming on the gas pedal smashed through the garage door. In the process we took out the Harris widow, a kindly older woman from across the street. I only saw her briefly before we slammed into her, a stubby arm in her hands, gold wrist watch dangling as she tore at it with bloody teeth. Earlier that year she had welcomed us to the neighborhood with a warm smile and a fresh baked apple pie. I should've felt bad, but I knew she was already dead.

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."

Supposedly this is a quote by Benjamin Franklin. Regardless of the accuracy of the definition, in relation to my life I find this interpretation to be startlingly accurate. It makes me stop and say "what the fuck am i doing?" and "how did i end up here again?" Like a Joy Division song on some sad goth kid's ipod, I feel like my life is on repeat. Not just that, it seems like a lot of my time is spent not only doing things i don't enjoy but doing things that will not really benefit me in anyway . I am getting a degree in a field that I know longer have any interest in at all. Sure I will always find the human mind fascinating to a certain degree, but I don't want to spend my days in a lab doing research, or worse listening to people bitch about their problems and expecting me to magically fix them. No thanks.

So how do I break free? Do I pack up my car with all that I care about and head west? Will I find the simplicity and clarity I long for as I sit on a beach and gaze out at the vastness of a calm ocean? I don't know. But the idea is sounding more appealing with each passing day.

I can't decide if the real reason I'm not currently at warped tour is because all the bands suck or because I'm old and fat.

However the evidence is overwhelming:

Reel Big Fish
Say Anything
The Academy Is
Gym Class Heroes
Horrorpops
Anberlin
The Vandals
The Briggs
Rise Against

crap. I could be half drunk on 4 dollar beers laying in the grass rocking a bitchin sunburn by now. oh well. maybe next year....oh wait by then I'll be even older!
such is life.

so i was looking back on some old blogs and i realized that this is my first drama free summer in about 3 years. and i must say i find this revelation absolutely outstanding. Not only that but i realized that almost all the people i thought i hated over the last two years (lets face it you know who you are) are people that i consider friends now or at least casual aquaintances. I guess the point is that its nice to grow up, leave behind grudges, and phase out shit talking. It just feels lighter to not carry around all the anger I used to...and a little weird.....but good. its like when i think about the past and i think about the way things are now i have to laugh at the ridiculousness of putting so much effort into disliking someone. whats the point really? its just draining in the end and really serves no purpose. When it comes right down to it....its just easier to be nice to people....unless of course that person is a complete and total douchebag.

Listening to Death Cab makes me want to watch The OC.  I know it's so wrong but god help me....it feels so right.

 

 

 This one matches my mood today.

If you had a bad time
At one of my parties
Well I wouldn't expect to be seeing you soon and that's fine

You have to know what and why
Those things make you happy
You have to know that a second guess ain't worth the try

Just some words of advice
Maybe you've heard them before but here goes
Just be true to yourself if it lands you in hell, well, at least now you know
Loud and clear is your heart big and bright are the places you might someday go
With one million things holding you down, why you're one of those things
I don't know, no big deal gotta go

If you're up to your ears
In blood, sweat and wasted years
I'm hoping you're going to open your throat
And just scream

You have to know who and why
Which ones miss you when you die
You have to know that a second guess ain't worth the salt in your eyes

Just some words of advice
Maybe you've heard them before but here goes
Just be true to yourself if it lands you in hell, well, at least now you know
Loud and clear is your heart big and bright are the places you might someday go
With one million things holding you down, why you're one of those things
No big deal

It just sits on my shoulders you're breaking my neck
We get crazy with age now you're under my bed
And it's dark all the time, all the time

Just some words of advice
Maybe you've heard them before but here goes
Just be true to yourself if it lands you in hell, well, at least now you know
Loud and clear is your heart big and bright are the places you might someday go
With one million things holding you down, why you're one of those things
I don't know, no big deal here I go.