So... I'm not dead.

I'm a little out of my element here in this whole "planning a life for myself" thing, and that's put me behind. Plus... dude, Humans vs. Zombies. I've also joined a chess club and found that I actually royally suck at chess, attempted to blow the lid off a campus-wide conspiracy involving our sports program (so far, less than stellar luck with that one, but I know the thing exists, so I guess that's a start), bought tickets to see Styx in concert (And REO Speedwagon, but... ew), went through almost every haunted house at Busch Gardens, found an anime that I don't actually hate, participated in a chess tournament (which I lost miserably), had 4 guys live in my room for a weekend, and hosted a really rushed and pathetic (but fun!) Halloween Cthulhu adventure. I also got drunk on more than one occasion.
I'm a little broke, and still have the following to take care of:

1) All the homework I've neglected while doing these things
2) A trip to DC for Jane's birthday
3) Lsats
4) Applying for law school
5) Coma forever

So yeah. I have a lot of psychologist/ psychology interested friends. Maybe you guys can explain this one to me.

After Craig left yesterday, I decided to go out for a drive. It was stupid because now on top of everything else, I need to get an oil change in my car tomorrow. And, to make a long story short, I ended up stopping by an Arby's to eat dinner. The Arby's was some kind of fast food cathedral by the way, but they were playing this really shitty 90s music, and one of the songs that came on was "Sunny Came Home." Now if you remember this abomination of nature, I'm sorry, but it reminded me of Model U.N in my junior year. It was the week before I asked Mel out, and I was at a "delegate party" of sorts and they had karaoke, and one of my old friends from the last Model U.N. was up there singing the song. It's a disturbingly clear memory, and ever since I can't get that song out of my head, and I'm feeling unbelievably depressed. With all of my insane self-analysis, I can't even begin to figure out why I would remember this so clearly and why it would depress me. Thoughts?

It's kind of ironic that this
[link]
would come from someone who doesn't understand capitalism or love.

The truth is that capitalism IS a love story, or rather a marriage story. For better or worse. One partner in this marriage is a dream: success earned through hard work and triumph through difficulty. The other is each of us individually: sometimes with issues that need to be sorted out, sometimes strong and powerful. Now that the higher education system is actually devoted to proselytizing young, promising people to the liberal cause (and face it, it is) and those who disagree with a liberal world-view are shunned by the intellectual community (those of you in research fields, how much research do you see supporting the individual and their rights?), we find ourselves on the verge of divorce. And understandably so. The marriage is broken. Old money beats out opportunity almost every time. But, like all marriages, there are other ways of dealing with it. There are compromises to be made, problems to be solved, issues to deal with. But complete divorce? Socialism seems so young and attractive during this particular mid-life crisis, but it's shallow, ill-thought out, popular only because of how it looks at first glance. Let's not throw away 233 years of blissful marriage just because we feel like we need a change. Instead, we ask capitalism, we ask the dream, to change with us, as we grow older.

I know what that sounds like. I know it seems reactionary. That's not what I'm talking about. Everyone should have a chance to succeed. But success should NEVER be automatic. Because it quite literally isn't. In order to exist you HAVE to produce. You have no choice. You have to put into the pool to take out of it. Obviously.

I do understand that corporate hegemony makes this sort of thing difficult. It ensures that certain people remain eternally in power. And I've never claimed to be against regulation, just wealth redistribution. But there are limits to how much the government should be allowed to do to curb this. I mean, when you give the power to the government, all you're doing is changing who's in control of that hegemony. And frankly, corporations don't have guns. How much of ourselves are we really willing to give up to the all-powerful, all-benevolent government? Seriously.

I do believe the festivities are over for this evening at least.

Today, at last the world has learned the truth. Or the campus anyway. It started off normally (naturally I was on-guard, but nothing suspicious was seen). The first sign of zombie activity was possibly the most terrifying. My good friend Cheryl, a black bandana around her head, walking through the dining hall amongst my fellow classmates. The police presence kept her at bay, but the sight alone was enough to curb my appetite. I resolved instead to return to my room to better prepare and to stock up on ammo.

On Brock Commons they first attacked. Or rather on the path from Brock Commons to the parking lot. There were two and (and here's the important part, so keep up) they RAN at me from two separate directions in a clear attempt to cut off my only exit. I hope all of you out there understand the ramifications of this. The zombies can not only move surprisingly quickly (I believe some are actually faster than natural humans), but they retain at least enough mental faculties to coordinate and launch basic attacks. I have a theory on this, but I'll expand later. So there I was, separated from my only refuge... I took a long shot at my pursuer, but missed by a hair... by this time the fast one was directly in front of me. I leveled my weapon and hit him right between the eyes. He dropped and I ran, never looking back.

It was only after barricading myself in my room that I stopped to check my e-mail account. There I found a message from a researcher by the name of Austin. He was heading up a resistance group... 30 or so humans. He had some basic information on the zombies he wished to share, if we could arrive at the Student Union within the next hour.

I found the area patrolled by heavily armed guards. Zombie corpses littered the area. To my horror, as I approached, I saw what was once Cheryl lying dead before me. To my greater horror, as I gaped at her destroyed form, her wounds closed and she sat up once again. The resistance wasted no time in gunning her down, with an incredible amount of military precision. It was then that we saw him. The original fucking zombie. Patient Zero, The Incubator, or whatever you want to call him... Big Scary Motherfucker is my personal favorite moniker. He was being chased by some badass black guy with a semi-automatic. One shot to the gut was all it took to take Big Scary Motherfucker down.

My roommate showed up at the meeting as well... thus far, he's shown no signs of infection.

Austin debriefed us on the situation. As I had observed earlier, the zombies maintained some, but not all of their mental faculties. The virus spreads when zombies munch on, and usually in the process infect the brain, BUT they need living brains to feed off of. It's difficult to say, but Austin predicts that if a zombie goes 48 hours without feeding, it will likely die. I personally believe that this instinct to feed is all that separates us from the "zombies." They're still human in many of the ways that matter, though they may not speak or even breathe... but the hunger must be so unbearable they can think of nothing else. This would explain why they avoid attacking indoors where they'd be gunned down, preferring to pick off isolated resistance members outside when possible. They also regenerate any destroyed appendages,from arms, to legs, to the heads themselves at an alarming rate... No matter how riddled with bullets they may be, within 10 minutes they are alive and well again.

Austin also explained to us that scientists had created an antidote, which could cure the infection before a human was converted. This was sent out from another university researcher now officially "deceased" though I suspect you will still find him wandering around whatever town he lived in. Unfortunately the package was lost in-route, and we had very few clues as to where it was.

We searched for a good half hour before the package was found, and lost 5 good men and women... for ONE measly dose of the antidote. The poor souls who were lost are now beyond saving and the antidote belongs to someone I don't know well. I am hopeful, but I was ambushed again on the way to dinner... I don't know how long I can hold out.

Intelligence puts the number of active zombies on campus at 9. If that number hasn't doubled by tomorrow evening, I'm Queen Victoria.

It's finally here. The zombie apocalypse.

While you sat in your homes, pacified by 24 hour news programs and cowering in fear of the Swine Flu, a much more insidious virus was hiding, incubating, growing. I've heard rumors for several weeks about breakouts across the country, mostly in small, tightly knit communities such as college campuses. And just tonight, I've heard rumblings that the virus is here at Longwood, incubating in one of our own. It could be my classmates, the others in the dining hall, it could even be in my friends, or my roommate, or me. It's hard to tell at this point, so we'll just have to wait and see.

I know, most of the people on campus don't believe it. They think it's a hoax, or a horror story told to scare freshmen. But I know better. I've been ready for this moment for years. I've purchased from walmart the best weapon that nine dollars and eighty two cents could buy. And I've prepared... This particular weapon has a few tricks up its sleeve; tricks I've added myself.

I'll try to update at regular intervals and let you know what's going on out here. I may not have much contact with the outside world... This may be the last chance I get to communicate with you. If so, I want you to know that I'm glad I knew you, all of you, and I wish you a safe and prosperous life.

Oh, and if you see me with a blue bandana around my head? Silver Nerf dart, right between the eyes.

The other night, Craig mentioned that perhaps we should go see Brad Pitt kill Nazis. As I personally hate Nazis, I decided that this would be a worthwhile use of our time. So, after some family drama and some working times around, I met my friend at the theater to go forth and see a movie where Brad Pitt killed Nazis.

I expected lots of violence. I expected lots of guns, some explosions, and witty one-liners. I didn't get that. What I got instead was an incredible use of suspense and tension, the likes of which I haven't seen since Hitchcock. I am confident in stating that Inglorious Bastards is the best movie to come out in the past couple of years (Don't bring Batman into this... he's on a different playing field altogether).

To be fair, a lot of what makes or breaks a movie is expectation, and when a film breaks that expectation to such an enormous degree, it's hard to look at it objectively. I love pleasant surprises, and this movie was full of them. For instance, as the movie opens, we see a farmhand and a Nazi officer having a conversation in fluent French. About five minutes in, the Nazi apologizes, stating that he has exhausted his knowledge of the French language, and would be more comfortable speaking in English. "My God," I thought. "What a contrived plot point." Imagine my surprise when not only did the switch actually serve a plot purpose, but the rest of the dialogue was in the proper language depending on the situation (with subtitles, obviously). The use of language throughout the movie was superb.

But that's just one tiny element. The whole movie was a study in dramatic tension, with Tarantino reliably writing dialogue scenes just a BIT longer than was comfortable and taking just a LITTLE too long to reach the explosive conflict that has everyone in the theater sitting on the edge of their seats. The twists and turns of the cookie-cutter "we're going to kill some Nazis" plot weren't exactly unexpected (for the most part), but their execution never failed to bring some doubt into your mind. Will the British spy be found out, or will he pull it off? What exactly is the Nazi officer after? Is the Bear Jew really as terrifying as his reputation implies?

The action comes quickly and suddenly in small, explosive bursts. In typical Tarantino fashion, those quick bursts usually end in gushing blood and exposed skulls. And just like that, the tension is relieved, but only momentarily. Immediately there's some other, more pressing, more dangerous issue at hand.

The acting is beautifully over-the-top. Brad Pitt's part is actually relatively small, given that he's the only one on the poster, but he plays it incredibly. I love his forced, obviously fake Tennessee accent, and I hate accents. His "supporting" cast did as well, if not better. Brad is clearly the comic relief, and in most of the best scenes, he doesn't even make an appearance until the thing is almost over. It's almost as if he's commenting on the events without any direct involvement in them. And yes, once again he defied my expectations. I don't remember him personally killing one Nazi, unless he did in the jail scene.

And the climax was beautiful. While the whole movie was shot artistically, the ending, from the start of the movie forward, had a particular element to it. Perhaps the crew was able to control lighting and film better inside the theater set than in other parts. I've heard people complain about the ending since, but I can't think of any more fitting end to the thing.

This movie is a piece of art. The story is a near-parody of other films, Valkyrie specifically, and perhaps even some of the Indiana Jones films, but it's in the execution that it really excels. Go see it because it's pretty even if Brad Pitt killing Nazis isn't exactly your thing.