So, I'm usually stuck in a Zombie kick, wondering when that'll ever happen, if ever.

Guess that's my big-time nightmare, there. Sure, they're slow as hell (for most mythos), but they could be fast...and aside from droopy, drooling, rotting feinds, there's more to fear--lack of food, running water, medicine, safe shelter, and roving gangs.

I would assume that the paralell of this nightmare would be a more rational-fear... some would call it armagedon... the post appocolypse... or nuclear war.

Aside from nukes, I wonder about any event on such  a scale, whether it be famine, flood, disease, natural disaster.

We tend to recover from most of them fairly quickly, but I seem to remember New Orleans being a land of Martial Law for nearly a week, and wonder how many pushes it would take to topple the system... how easy it would be to cause such a collapse.

I've always been interested with the thigns that might happen iwth a societal crash--The "Mad Max" series, "The Postman" (book and movie), and "Waterworld," have been favorites, so when Fallout 3 came out, I had to pick it up. To compliment that, I started watching "Jericho," via Netflix, which I'd missed on television. I'll probably check out "Jeramiah" next.

While these things are terrible, there seems to be a common theme in all these shows/movies. Community, hope, faith, co-operation... and the enemies are all the same. Tyrants hoping to claim more for themselves, on top of the problems we all have.

I guess... these stories tells our worst fears, and make us all a little more equal, at least on "Jericho," where everyone's power goes out, all are hungry, and for a little while, nothing worked.

Oh... not sure if I should be too excited, but there's a Mad Max 4 on the way, and a zombie flick called "World War Z," which I'm thinking should be good, considering the reviews of the book it's based on, and the production crew who scored it.  

Anyways, I'm off to fight the good fight, where ever that may lead me.

So... I found myself trying to go shopping Christmas day--figured that at least Wal-Mart would be open, but (I'm glad they didn't have to work--no one outside of gas-stations and human services should work on a major holiday), even Wal-Mart was closed. I did the next best thing, and pulled $100 out of a bank for a gift...

...and my car battery died whiel I was at the ATM.

It took around 10 people ignoring or passing me to stop, and I was fairly obvious... waiving my jumper cables over my head.

The guy who did finally stop for me--a fairly cool hippie sort of guy--wished me "a very merry fucking Christmas."

I'm going to guess he was as perturbed as I was by that morning.

Go figure. The one guy who stopped to help me was the one guy having as bad a day as I was.

Sadly, Christmas was rather meloncholy this year. We had a tree, though, and I think that everything else was fine. I'm hoping the new year brings us some good tidings, as while I did work my ass off, we didn't get to do much last year. Hooray for working all but 5-6 weekends of the spring.summer.

Wednesday... it is a mark in history--a short one, but a maker, none the less.

I turn 29.

I've accomplished a few things that few have, yet haven't done what many have.

I've had an idea used in a nathional markenting campaign.

I've been twice published.

I've provided aid to those in need, and helped over 20 people pass.

I haven't been married

I hve no children.

I haven't yet made love on the beach as sunset, or sun-rise.

 I hate this tiem of year... don't know why I guess because I'm seldom called by family, have fw close friends, and it reminds me of how little time I have left, even if I've used half of my life.

It'll be a good night toniught, however, as most are

As I always do, I will live.

I've been running down a dream, that never would come to me...

And that song was playing when my life came to a screaching halt, all those years ago, in an incident that wasn't my fault... and afterwards, I sat all alone,  flesh and bone, by the telephone, waiting to be a beleiver.  

Some one did call, and thus, a new me came back. New, they same, as all things that go up, must come down, or like a seed in this instance, what had to go down into the ground, has risen up.

It's been years now, and I am now past where I was, yet where I was. I have done some of what I wanted to do, yet nothing of what I need to do--whatever that is, I still feel a nagging nip at my heels, herding me towards some ultimate end-all that will hopefully be the begining of something greater, if not for myself, then for others.

Often, I simply sit and think, and smoke and drink--two of those things are poor choices indeed, but they strangely add to the mix of time and circumstance. In these times, I think I would die of boredom if my hands didn't move, at least a bit.

What is it that these thoughts are going to culminate in?

I have written, bvut I wasn't truly there for what came about. Will I be this time, when I finally set pen to paper again (or 1's and 0's to chip)?

Noble goals such as aid and succor are the ultimate goals, I think--awakening, perhaps.

As it is, I still work, play, and have once again started to pray--to what, I know not, but I'm not foolish enough to beelive that there's nothing, or else I wouldn't be here.

Some of what I've done for play has started to rub off on other people. Some of what I've heard rubbed off on me.

Hate t oend like this... but life feels exciting, yet boardering on frustrating wheel-spinning.

Life can be a bring down,

makes me hate this town,

causes me to bathe the world in a frown.

Love can be a pain,

feeling just like rain,

cold and damp as a tear-filled stain.

Life can break your dreams,

bring back childish screams,

not like what it seems.

--So, in essence, to quote Alvin and the Chipmunks, and whomever they borrowed their tune from for that movie, "I had a bad day."

I'll deal. If nothing else, I'll be camping this weekend clad in a Kilt and some leather and cahin-maille. It will be fun. 

Life could be worse.

Peace. 

It's fairly here now, and it appears that it's going to be a damn busy one, and an awesome one indeed. I have plans scheduled for almost every weekend so far, some camping trips, a bunch of various re-enactment events to attend,  a crap-load of various materials to work with, and hobbies galore to fill in the time inbetween. I managed to get over a grand worh of leather for $300, and so far, I already have two jobs to do, with a third around the corner.

With luck, I'll be getting my third period raise on the 5th of June (should bring me close $25.00--friggin' taxes), I have plenty of work for the summer... and well... things are going pretty good. My car is even running decently.

Damn... what's around the corner? Something bad, I'm sure. Nothing stays good too long, right?

Well, that was old life, at least. So far, things have gone pretty good.

The only thing missing right now is painting and writing--still having trouble getting myself together for that.

I can't wait for the heat so I can check out my pool while BBQing.

Seriously... whats' going to go wrong now?

I heard a song last weekend that ripped into the core of my being. I didn't understand it at the time, and still have a slight complexity as to it's full meaning to me, but this is what I have seen so far.

We start out small, with challenges ahead to be met full on. To some of us, we fight by learning to tie our shes. For others, we learn to ride our bikes with no handle bars--we beat our fears and meet them head-long.

As we go forward in life, we learn things that we thought were never possible, and do things we only dreamed of.

As we progress, we eventually come to a head--a fork in the road.

Do we go right, and change the world for good, or do we turn left, and change only oursleves, striving for power?

This song is "Handlebars," by the Flobots. Check their two videos out on you-tube, and read up on them at wikipedia.

I dl'd all of their songs, and I can't say that there is one thast I cna't listen to.

Take care all. And do well and be well to all,

Chris

I sat patiently--yet bored--for nearly two years while waiting for the good things in life (personal freedom and space to work) to come to me, or to open up to me as a possibility. Yes, one can wax philosophical about seizing the day, but in my case, it was a matter of patience.

I had been stuck at my parents house with my mate for nearly two years, after having moved out and started a life. The two of us shared a room together, able to do little other than dream.

Our dream has come true. We have a house, hold jobs we agree with (in her case, "for now," though I hope that her possibilities open up more in the future, as her talents will waste away otherwise).

Sadly, life has now become too busy...

This is a good thing however, but it was cut away our tiem to focus on our arts.

We have our house, and our respective rooms. Her room is filled with toys and the joys of her dreams annd art, while I stay in garage, which is decorated with various sorts of plastic sculptures (action figures), and artifacts of my hobbies and crafts.

Sadly, neither of us has had the time to sit and work on our desries of our hearts. My writing has in fact gone into a deeper hibernation, and Tania's art has suffered for lack of time.

We spend more time together now than we had (quality time, that is), and are now members of a midieval re-enactment group, which I had once been a member of many years ago. That now takes up 2-3 days of our lives, but it may yeild some good memories down the road, and I have many good memories from the way-back-when.

If anyone out there is stuck in a rut, I hope you can find a measure of enjoyment in what you have, and have a good time when you get out of your rut.

I'm not sure if I spelled that first part right, but it's taken from "O Brother, Where Art Thou."

I am 28, and I have felt that my mother has been dead for 13 years. At 15, she suffered a nevfous break-down of sorts and brought another male into the house--a boyfriend to compliment her husband, who is my father, despite being "only" my step-father.

I tried speaking ot her tonight aobut things that ail me, and she freaked out. If I breathe, she freaks out.

Is this the fate of beign a parent? Is this my fate to bestow upon another? I hope to god not.

Does anyone else out htere have a crazy mother? Father?

IS a loved one part of the walking dead?

I am, as I have always been, Christopher. I am still a child, unaware that I am 28, except in the most mature of moments, when I realize that all that has come before leads to what shall come in time.

I have been a man trapped by situation for far too long, though I could have escaped earlier had I possesed the ambition. Sadly--or not--I am a gentle risk-taker. That is, I like to hedge the bet in my favor.

For nearly two years, I have been back at home, safe in my room, which at one time, was my womb. Many great ideas occoured there, and I matured there. hatred led to understanding, and understandign led to great thoughts.

I suppose, in the great shceme of htings, I was destined to return home after a souvern into the real world, to keep myself in check.

The only unfortuneate matter has been my GF, who has suffered with me. I thank god for that, as a woman who could survive the limited resources of this life can survive anything with me, and htat is what I need. A woman who is rock-hard, steady, and able to drive forward into the great unknown.

This world presents too many difficulties to go off half-cocked.

Prior to this, I was a CNa and a writer. I am now a construction worker (glazier) working for his family, and I want ot be a writer again. My GF is a n artist, who has never quit. Let whatever is praise that, for she is who she is, and she should never quit.

We sill soon be in our own house, and despite living together for three years, we have never been alone. That has ben a tradgedy, but also a strength, for the trials we have gone througth are similiar to those of parents too poor to enjoy lives outside of themselves. That has been our test.  

It has been three weekends since we learned of our new-found freedom, and while we were to move this weekend, one more week has coem between us and freedom.

That is fine.

We are now on the way, and life has never been better, despite the many beasts that still beg ot be let out.

I write because I hate, and because I fear. I hate the enemies of love and freedom, and I fear thathtey are more powerful that I and my kind, which are those who care for others.

It will be nice to have a room to write in again. I look forward to it.

May time speed quixckly to a time that I want time to slow down.