My Dreams Are Trying to Kill Me

…and it’s rude.

Seriously, I am completely sick and tired (pun!) of all the ways in which my dreams cheat and attempt to give me more nightmares. It’s bad enough that I have bad dreams several times during the week. This conspiracy to turn them into nightmares is worse.

Oh, what’s that? You didn’t know there was a difference between a bad dream and a nightmare? You probably don’t even have nightmares, do you? Freaking lucky SOB.

The difference between a bad dream and a nightmare is normally defined by whether or not the dream forces you to wake up. Since I wake up randomly throughout the night regardless it’s a little hard for me to define the difference between what was “natural” and what was in the middle of a REM cycle, so I apply my own definition. If I wake up screaming or crying or with my heart racing and still very afraid, I consider it a nightmare. If I wake up calm, even if bad things were happening in the dream, I just consider it bad.

I don’t particularly like either type of dream because the worst thing is, I have the very unfortunate habit of falling back into the same dream when I go back to sleep. If this happens, it’s also very common for it to go from a bad dream to a nightmare because my dreams F*CKING CHEAT.

If I woke up calm because I had managed to hide from whatever was attempting to kill me, you can guarantee that when I fall back asleep my hiding place is discovered. If I had the situation under control because I had a weapon, it no longer works or changes into something else. I remember one zombie dream that infuriated me later because I had a gun, I had a safe area in sight, but all of the zombies had STEEL PLATES IN THEIR HEAD AND COULDN’T BE SHOT. WTF!?! HOW IS THAT FAIR!?!

Last night I had a total of 5 bad dreams/nightmares. 5. **5**. This is excessive. I even stayed awake from around 3 am to 5 because I absolutely knew I was going to be trapped in the same zombie dream and I didn’t want that to happen. Finally, I fell asleep and had another nightmare about being trapped in my car after it flipped. Woke up panicked, forgot to try and think about non-zombie things to trick my mind, fell back asleep, and sure enough had more zombie issues.

Logically bad dreams shouldn’t be a big deal. Keep in mind though that it is possible to die in your dreams, and I’m one of those “lucky” individuals that dies quite often. I mean sure, that doesn’t really kill me, but neither is it pleasant. And again, I have the habit of continuously falling back into the same dream. So I get to be murdered not once, but sometimes multiple times.

Let’s just say too that I decide to stay awake. This is the obvious answer to win the game when your dreams cheat. Good plan, except I’m also blessed with a constitution that responds to things like not sleeping enough with violent nausea. I know, I know, being me is such a joy.

The good news is I have stumbled upon a possible solution. You see, I’ve finally realized that I have the most nightmares on the nights when I take my contacts out (and that just adds to the bundle of fun, because now I get to wake up screaming and be completely unable to see, yay!!!). Most likely it’s because I have a deep fear that if I’m ever attacked, it will be while I’m somewhat blind and more vulnerable. Years of watching Scooby Doo as a child have warped my brain. I try to leave in my contacts as much as possible to help with this, but I decided a month or two ago that maybe this should be the year I actually get eye surgery.  Then I reconsidered, because I feel like they don’t let you drive yourself home from eye surgery and I hate cabs, but after my doozy of a night I’m leaning towards it once more.

Plus I suppose the bright side of having nightmares more often than not is that it gives me writing fuel. If I wrote happy, sappy, love stories good dreams would probably be more effective, but as it is I like to write things where I need to tap into feelings of terror or hopelessness. Done and done.

Shuttup and Do It

I’m pretty sure anyone that’s ever actually given birth will kill me for this, but I kind of think of NaNoWriMo like labor.

Last year, I successfully completed NaNoWriMo for the first time. If you’re not up on the lingo, basically a bunch of insane people (including me) attempt to write a novel of at least 50,000 words, the catch being they need to both start and finish it in the month of November. Thus November is NAtional NOvel WRIting MOnth.

I talked a little last year about my reasons for doing NaNoWriMo. I checked in almost halfway through the month with an update on my story. I never really talked about the experience afterward.

Why do I think it’s the same as giving birth?

When I finished last November 30^th, I was immensely proud of what I had done, and I promised myself immediately I would never do it again.

A few weeks later, I looked back and was even more proud of my accomplishment, and started thinking maybe in a few more years I’d be ready to do it again.

By this October, I convinced myself it wasn’t that bad and I could totally do it again. In fact, it’d probably be easier since I would go in more prepared than the first time. Oh, the sweet little lies we tell ourselves.

This NaNoWriMo I actually did a little more prep than last year, but I’m not sure how much it’s helping me. My entire timeline changed with pretty much the first chapter. Weird things I wasn’t expecting keep happening, like my main character pissing accidentally herself and having some sort of hair dye fetish. I’ve already killed off three people, and I certainly wasn’t planning on that.

While I’m actually on target with my word count (which is a minor miracle, since I was 10,000 words behind Saturday morning), I also want to finish ahead of time this year since I’ll be spending time with my brother the last few days of the month. At this point it’s equally likely that I say screw it and stop writing, or somehow pull 10,000 more words out of my @ss to finish.

But since this has been more or less taking over the last month of my life, and thus preventing me from update, I decided to share with you, my dear friends, the first chapter of the story!!

Keep in mind there will be typos. There’s really no looking back with NaNoWriMo, just moving forward. Someday if I finish and decide not to forget this whole mess ever happened I made go back and fix things, but that day is not today.

So here it is, the first chapter of my insane zombie story!

Above Reproach

Chapter 1

I’ve never really understood why we’re so rigid about the rope rules. Who exactly do they think is going to climb the ladder if we leave for a few minutes? The grounders? The day zombies get smart enough to climb we’re going to have a fuckton more problems than worrying about the ropes.

            No one ever listens to me though. They listen to me talk. They love to hear my stories. The minute I turn somewhat serious they close their ears and hum, which is why I’m standing under the lookout whistling the magic tune to get somebody to drop down the rope ladder and let me up. Never mind the fact that they can clearly see me. Allegedly the whistling proves that I haven’t been infected in the ten minutes I’ve been on the ground, and I’m safe to climb up and take over duties.

            It might be me, but these days I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes every time the Three make a new rule.

            The ladder drops and I start to climb. It’s not exactly a ladder in that the rungs are randomly spaced out, and you still have sections of pure rope that require a little bit more concentration to make it up. I can never decide if wearing my gloves makes it harder to navigate those sections or if I’m lucky to have them protect my hands.

You can tell who frequently has lookout duty based on the calluses on their hands. It beats the rope burn at least. There are other ways to tell of course, like who has freaking amazing upper torsos. If we still had a government and leaders and all that, they’d be ecstatic that we’ve beat the obesity epidemic. I can’t decide if people are more motivated to stay in shape because they have a better chance of outrunning a mob of grounders, or if it’s because of the shitty food. Maybe you like a second helping of burned squirrel stew and gummy rice, but I’m good, thanks.

            I’m not entirely surprised when someone reaches down and pulls me up the last bit of rope. I’m going to say that it was a subconscious decision to pick this lookout, but that’s a lie. Pierce always takes this tree. I know this. I’d like to pretend I was unaware that he was out on duty and probably here, but I can admit to myself at least that I wanted to see him.

            “Hey Mink,” he says with a smile. I haven’t figured out yet how he manages to look like a wet dream and somebody I want to punch at the same time. It might be the hair. Given the lack of barbers it tends to erratically hang in his eyes. In another lifetime, like five years ago, I probably would have called him emo and laughed in his face, assuming he had the same hair. More likely he had some super cool douchebag cut that emphasized his strong jawline and let the world see those baby blues. Not that I’ve memorized his face or anything. This thought is purely prompted by the fact that he’s staring at me at the moment. Right.

            Of course that might be because I have yet to respond. I manage a cool nod. We’ve been talking too much recently when we’re both at the lodge. I wouldn’t want him to think we’re becoming friends. I don’t need friends and all the shit that comes with them anymore.

            I give the lookout a quick lookover, but nothing’s changed since I was here last week. Of course Pierce the perfect would have everything in order.

            “How’s the ground movement?” I ask as I set my bag down in the corner. Since we don’t keep any of the food supplies in the lookouts it’s a good excuse to lug my bag around with me. One of these days someone’s going to open it up and find my stash of goods. I’m not the only lookout hoarding junk from the towns, but I don’t kid myself. I’m more likely to be searched at some point. The current Three only trust me so far.

            “Nothing on this end,” Pierce says, and his voice sounds too close. I look up to see he’s followed me to the corner. “They’re losing their juice though, we’re going to need a replace mission soon.”

            I toss my hair, which forces him to back up a step. “We’re going to need a supply mission soon too. The lodge is running low on meds and some of the kids have a fever.” I can’t help it, I feel myself start to grin at him. “I’ll radio in that you should go for supplies if you tell them to send me on replacement duty.”

            Pierce laughs. “Trickster girl. You’re too slow, I already heard from Lookout 2 that we’re heading in for supplies. You’ll be earning no favors from me today.”

            There are so many comebacks dancing on my tongue, but I literally bite it to hold back. That’s the problem with being around Pierce. Even worse, I think he can tell what thoughts are running through my head. His face softens and he steps closer again.

            “Maybe I spoke too soon,” he says. His voice is dangerously low.

            I don’t believe in prayer anymore, but hearing the walkie crackle to life makes me think for a second that the universe might have been sympathetic to my inner turmoil. That would figure, that it cares about the little moments and ignores the problems that ruin your world. I step away from Pierce to answer the call.

            “Lookout 1 reporting, over.” My voice sounds steady. Points to me. Especially since Pierce clearly followed me over. I can feel warmth right behind me, but I’m smart enough not to turn my head. This was my fault. I should never have climbed up that ladder.

            “The Lodge wants all lookouts coming off duty to head to the carport. Send them immediately. Over and out.”

            I feel myself tense even as Pierce moves away to gather his gear. I don’t know who’s voice that was, but I burn with hatred for them.

            “There’s no reason for you all to take a car. All they said we needed was meds. You can carry that back easily.” I glare at Pierce as if it’s his fault that they’re making a simple trip more dangerous.

            “Down get your fur up, Mink, I’m sure the Three have their reasons.” This time Pierce is the one avoiding looking at me.

            I scowl. “All we need to do is call back in. They listen to you. Tell them it’s a bad idea. The grounders are going to be closer than usual.”

            “Maybe that’s why we’re taking a car, so we can outrun them if necessary.”

            “Please,” the word is so hesitant, I feel it shimmering in the air as if the next breath will blow away the memory that it was ever spoken. “Call back in and ask them to let you guys walk.”

            Pierce has already pulled on the straps of his bag and is standing at the rope, but he crosses back to my side of the lookout. I have a few seconds of hope before he gently touches my cheek.

           

            “Trust me, it will be fine. Be a good soldier, Mink.” Before I can decide how to react, what to do, he steps away and yells back, “Besides it’s my turn to drive.”

            He gives me a wink as he goes to start down the ladder. I force myself to say the right thing.

            “In that case it’s definitely not safe.” I unlock my wooden jaw to smile a little as I say it. If we joke around it’s okay. Nothing will happen.

            I wish I believed that still. I wish I could have said what I was really thinking. That we aren’t soldiers. That it might not be fine. And that the Three aren’t always right.

            I go to the window to watch Pierce head off to the carport. He never looks back, so being ready to wave seems pointless. I can’t make myself move away though. From this lookout I’m too far away to see the carport itself, but I can catch glimpses of whoever’s coming down from Lookout 2.

            It’s enough to free me. I don’t really want to know who’s coming down that ladder. I don’t want to spend the next ten hours worrying about anyone else on this supply trip. It would be fine if they were walking, or if we had replaced recently. The grounders get closer though when the scarecrows aren’t fresh, and they’re always attracted to the sound of engines. They might not be smart, but it’s like zombies have an instinct for being in the worse place possible for us. They’ve cut off the return from town before. It’s why lookout and scavenger duties are strictly volunteer work.

            There’s not really enough to do on lookout duty to distract yourself. Pierce kept the place tidy. Half the time I spend the first part of my shift cleaning up after whoever was before me. I make sure the guns are loaded. The walkie clearly is working, so I don’t need to check it. We’ll still do the midshift check-in, but that’s hours away. All I need to do at this point is watch out the windows and listen for the bells.

            My mother was the first to question if the lookouts were even remotely useful or not. As long as we keep the scarecrows fresh the grounders never wander this far in the woods. It’s been weeks since another survivor followed the lights here. I’ve suggested that it would be better to have lookouts stationed on the path to town, but that was shot down in a second. I can’t be the only one to notice that the lookouts, as they are right now, are crowded around the Three. They don’t even really block the Lodge from the town side of the forest. This side is naturally protected by the river, so why are most of the lookouts clustered here?

            These are the questions that plaque my shifts. I settle in at the window as I hear the broken sounds of a car driving too fast for our dirt path. As my eyes adjust to staring at an endless view of trees, I start my mantra. They will not stay grounded. They will return above.

5 Ways I Definitely Don't Want to Die

There’s this thing about death that bugs me. Beyond the whole you/someone/something is dead issue. It’s that you generally have no control over it. There are obvious exceptions, like sticking your head in the oven (which is cheating/losing the game of life), or sticking someone else in an oven (which isn’t polite), but overall it just sort of happens. I think I can accept that. The thing is there are particular ways that I’d really prefer not to die, thank you very much, and I worry that they will end up being my end. So I thought as a precaution, I’d make a list of the 5 ways I least want to die. I see this as a way to throw my preferences out into the universe so when my time comes, someone somewhere has it under consideration.

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #5 – Slow Zombie Gnawing

Ok so I grant that zombies are technically not an issue. Right now. Reading cracked.com might give you a different view. I’m not saying I’m really worried about this happening. Just so we’re all clear.

Are you sure you don't want to try vegetarianism??

In most cases one of the scary things about zombie attack is that you have to not die and at the same time not get infected, because that’s basically a death sentence. I’m totally okay with that concept. I mean I don’t particularly want to turn into a zombie, but just a little nibble and getting infected is acceptable.

What I don’t want is to be in a situation where the zombies really get a chance to gnaw. It’s basically tantamount to being torn apart. Sooooooooo not fun.

Technically Michelle Rodriquez didn’t get slowly eaten by the mob, but it looks like a possibility, and that’s scary enough.

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #4 – Insides on the Outside

You know my fear of zombie nibbling is probably actually a subset of this. But basically, I want my internal organs to stay inside my body. Injuries to those organs resulting in death are okay as long as THEY STAY INSIDE MY BODY.

You can't go wrong with Indiana Jones

I’m not big on losing body parts. Break things, they fix. Chop off a finger or pull out an eye though and I squirm (for the record, Hostel traumatized me). This gets even worse when we start talking about things that I don’t normally see. I know I have guts. I don’t need to see them dangling out my torso. Oh my god and what if they like drag in the ground and now there’s all sort of dirt and leaves and dust on my organs. I am not comfortable with this conversation.

I had a tough choice on this movie example, but I think we have to go with a classic. Please sir, don’t rip out my heart. No literally, don’t you even freaking try to rip out my heart. We will no longer be friends.

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #3 – Helpless

In any of the situations listed so far, sure I might end up dying, but I’d damn well try to live first. I’d fight those zombies to the bitter end. I’d shove those intestines (and the leaves and dirt and whatever else they picked up from the ground… seriously why do we keep having this conversation) back in and try to stitch myself up. I’d make an effort.

So what terrifies me is the idea that I see death coming and can’t do anything about it.

I'd like to switch seats now.

Case in point? Anacondas: The Hunt for the Blood Orchid. One of the characters is bitten by a spider (also not ideal), paralyzed, and then chomped by an anaconda. So he’s sitting there paralyzed, he can see the anaconda in the background, and he has no way to move or communicate to the others that he is about to die. Super dislike. I mean yeah I might end up in a snake belly regardless, but for the sake of my dignity I want at least a chance to escape.

Don’t believe in giant snakes? Ok fine, let’s go with another example. There’s always Saw 3. Poor Allison Kerry has to stick her hand in acid otherwise her ribs get torn apart. Even though she completes the “challenge,” she realizes the key to her safety doesn’t work. She thought she had a chance to save herself, and instead she’s powerless. Oh how I sympathized with her for those few terrible seconds before she dies from rib ripping. No bueno.

Last of the Mohicans = not a kid's movie (but I watched it)

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #2 – Trial By Fire

DO NOT LIGHT ME ON FIRE. IT LOOKS INCREDIBLY PAINFUL.

That is all.

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #1 – Jaws of Death

Those that know me knew this was coming. It’s not like it’s a surprise to anyone. I am absolutely, completely, bat-shit crazy, terrified of sharks. It’s not just fear at this point. It’s a phobia. What’s the difference? Well fear is being presented with something and being afraid (so swimming, bumping into a shark, and being like AHH!). A phobia is being so terrified of something you actively avoid it at all costs even when it’s ridiculous (so not closing your eyes in the bathtub on the off chance a shark appears).

Amazingly enough I will go in the ocean, but every time I’m convinced I may die. I generally stay in the “safe” zone. I only feel moderately better about this, because there is no true safe zone. Except maybe when the water doesn’t reach my ankles. Don’t believe me? Did you know shark attacks have occurred in only 3 feet of water? Yeah, true story.

I don't how fake the shark looks, I AM AFRAID

It’s interesting that many people are afraid of sharks specifically because of movies like Jaws. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a terrifying movie. I still haven’t technically watched all of it because I normally freak out and either close my eyes or change the channel. But I’m a bit odd in that I’ve just always been afraid of sharks. Because I was already ridiculous about it, my parents refused to let me watch shark movies when I was a kid.

Whenever I’m in water – pool water, ocean water, lake water, doesn’t really matter – I just have this instinctive feeling that something is coming up from below to eat me. I can’t stop it. No amount of facts in the world can prevent this fear. Deep down in my core I am convinced I will die from shark attack, and I dread it more than anything.

In fact, I would probably rather die from any of these other scenarios than be attacked by a shark, even if I survived the shark attack. Because I am convinced that mentally I would completely shut down. The moment I am in the water with a shark will be the moment I lose the last remnants of my sanity. Even if by some miracle I could process it mentally, I think I’d just have a heart attack and die from pure terror.

Just so you know, were a “friend” to ever arrange a “harmless” prank involving sharks…. That would be the definitive end of our friendship. I would never speak their name again. They would receive the “you're dead to me” look.  Every single Mario Party game, millions of cans of pepsi, and even presents of kittens or puppies would not come even close to earning forgiveness.  

In theory, I probably won't die in any of these methods. Well, one can hope anyways. 

You Are What You Read

The other day I was swapping books with my friend Kevin. I brought him Game of Thrones because everyone should read it, and I was perusing his book options and grabbed Ender’s Game. I then found another book I wanted to borrow, but instead of giving it up immediately Kevin wanted to know if I was currently reading something.

For people that read in a linear fashion, this question was appropriate. The issue was that Kevin had not yet read the book I wanted to borrow, so he was trying to determine if I would get through Ender’s Game, this book, and another book if I was reading one before he would finish his current book and Game of Thrones. I don’t really think of books that way, so it was a new concept for me. I’m now wondering if that’s how most people read: one book after another in the order you get them.

As for me, typically I’m reading around 3 books at a time.

This is a large part of why my house always looks cluttered. As I glance around my living room there are currently 11 books sitting around. I long ago started running out of space on my bookcase, so I now keep various stacks of books. Some are meant to go back to friends, some I’m just getting rid of, and I currently have a stack of books I’m debating whether or not to keep.

How many of those books am I currently reading? Well, not all 11. That would be excessive.

This week, I find myself in the midst of several books. I’ve been reading Les Miserables since the end of December. Unfortunately I have it on my iPad, so I rarely read it at home. I’m still torn on the e-reader debate. There are definitely some benefits. I actually downloaded Les Miserables while stuck in an airport. When traveling, it is convenient to be able to take my iPad with several books on it and not worry about finishing them and running out of reading material. However, it drives me insane that I can’t read while a plane is taking off or landing. Inevitably I end up taking both my iPad and one regular book.

It’s a very rare case where I can bring myself to read off the iPad at home. I prefer the feel of a real book. I can make exceptions for book club selections when I’m trying to read something by a specific date, but otherwise I just find myself waiting until the next time I travel.

So while I am currently reading Les Miserables, I have no plans to finish it in the near future.

I have two other books that I’ve been reading for quite awhile. In This Skin, by Simon Clark, and Dead City. Both are horror stories, and I’m about halfway through both. I stopped reading for now though because they were FREAKING ME OUT. I do like a good horror story, but eventually I get to this point where I have to stop or I won’t be able to sleep at night.

Back in college, I could more easily finish these kinds of books because I was constantly living with other people. It was perfectly okay for me to sit and read while everyone else watching tv or played a video game. I don’t really have that opportunity much anymore. What am I going to do, call my friends up and say “hey can you come sit around my house while I read a scary story?” Nope. I’m holding both of these books until the summer. I do much better out by the pool. Warmth and sunshine are still very acceptable methods of keeping the boogie men at bay.

What am I actively reading in the house? About four books. One I’m actually re-reading, and that would be The Lady of the Forest. Since I’ve read it many, many times before there’s no sense of urgency. Another book I just started is Neverland. I’m finding it hard to read. Typically I like to read while I’m snacking, or eating dinner. This book has been quite descriptive, and there’s a hardcore ick factor to it. I may end up saving it for the summer as well. Then I have The Forest House, which I think I started Wednesday after finishing Sex, Lies, and Online Dating. It’s good so far, but will probably take a bit to get through. The last book I’m actively reading is The White Queen by Philippa Gregory. I’m a little over halfway through but they’ve killed off some of the characters I like, and I can’t decide whether I’m invested enough in the main character to finish or not.

That’s why besides those four, I have two other books you could say I’m “reading.” I started both The Needle in the Blood and Mona Lisa Awakening in the last few weeks, but I haven’t gotten very far in either, and at this point I’m pretty sure I’m just not going to read them.

There are many books in the world I have started, but never finished. This can happen for various reasons. If I don’t like the main character, if I heartily disagree with something they do in the book, if I don’t like the writing, or if at the end of the day I’m just not sucked in.

In Mona Lisa Awakening and The Needle in the Blood I like neither the characters or writing. I haven’t yet firmly decided to give up on them. Again, I’m not very far in either book. Maybe it gets better? But with so many other options I haven’t felt like devoting the time to books I don’t particularly like.

Surely this is how other people read as well?

So I guess I can understand Kevin’s concern that I might not finish a book before he’s ready for it. On the other hand, I borrowed Ender’s Game on Friday, and I finished it yesterday. Why? Because it was AWESOME. When I focus on a book I get through it very quickly. That at least must be the same for everyone that reads.

TVD: How to Make/Kill Your Own Vampire

This is TVD week! To celebrate the season 3 release on Tuesday, every post this week will concern vampires and The Vampire Diaries tv series. Be wary of some spoilers, although I will avoid anything uber important from season 3.

Today we’re going to learn how to make your very own vampire!

Now for the most part, I’m open to interpretations on vampires. There is one thing though that has always driven me batty, and that’s any version where new vampires are created through a single bite.

Why? Because vampires are NOT zombies!! Let’s consider the dark alley test.

Single zombie=funny

If I happened to meet a zombie in a dark alley, I wouldn’t really be too freaked out. I’d say “shit, son!,” back away, and then go find somebody to handle that situ. One zombie by itself isn’t really a big deal. The danger with zombies is in the number.

If I bumped into a vampire in a dark alley, well at that point I’d be hoping like mad that I recently updated my will. I’m going to assume there will be no happy ending to this encounter. A single vampire is deadly on its own.

Unlike zombies, vampires don’t need to have a psychotic repopulation rate in order to be scary. And logistically, if every single human bit by a vampire became a vampire, we’d already be extinct. That’s why in zombie movies there’s an underlying fear that the entire human race is going to die out and there’s no way to escape this fate. With vampire movies, it’s normally more focused on a specific character and situation without a wider concern for the world.

Movies like Blade and John Carpenter’s Vampires have always filled me with an inner rage. On the other hand, I love that in Daybreakers they address the fact that if every person bitten becomes a vampire, you’re going to run out of humans to eat.

The more standard way to turn people into vampires involves vampire blood being ingested. The details can vary – how much, time of day, extra steps needed, but the blood is the main thing. Think of vampire blood as your prescription to create your vampire. Generally everyone’s taking the same thing (the blood), but the doctor might switch up the dosage and the directions for your specific vampire.

The Vampire Diaries sticks to this general prescription idea, but it’s in those dosage descriptions that it becomes fantastic. Yes, you need to have a nice vampire blood night cap. But that alone won’t make you a vampire. In TVD, what matters is what happens while the vampire blood is in your system. If you’re on the verge of dying and you get some blood, you heal. If you have vampire blood in your system and you die, you start to turn into a vampire.

Which sets up the potential for all sorts of accidental vampires. Say you have a vampire lover, and one day you are attacked and almost die, so they generously raise a vein to your health. You leave, heading home, and get hit by a car. It’s vampire time, baby!!

What makes this even better though is that this just starts the vampire transformation process. To complete it, you have to drink human blood. So in TVD vampire creation is generally 1 part vampire involvement, 1 part personal choice. You have less vampires running around against their will. So to make your vampire, you should ideally have a volunteer. Although of course it could happen where somebody shoves some vampire blood in their mouth in their sleep, kills them, then shoves some human blood in their mouth when they’re starting to wake back up and rather drowsy. Therein lies the danger of sleeping with your mouth open (that and bugs).

So now that you’ve made your brand new vampire, how do you kill it? Inevitably, you probably will want to, so best be prepared to do the deed. The good news is that unlike True Blood, your vampire won’t explode into a gooey mess. You just have the normal body disposal issues.

With TVD vampires, you can stick to your usual execution methods. Stake to the heart, overlong sun exposure, possibly using an Audi (see example below), and removing the head are acceptable ways to kill (most) TVD vampires.

But they also introduce a whole new method to help in the process!

It’s called vervain. Apparently, it’s a real thing. The plant vervain, that is, not its effect on vampires. I absolutely love that they added this twist. Vervain has many uses in TVD. It can protect you against vampire mind control (yeah, they do that). It can reveal who is a vampire based on their reaction to it. It can be used for some light afternoon vampire torture. Most importantly, it can knock a vampire out, making it far easier for you to properly kill them (it’s a lot easier to kill things when they’re not moving).

Now when it comes to killing your new vampire, just be sure to check that they’re dead-dead. Keep in mind that with TVD vampires you can do things like snap their necks, think they’re dead, and then they pop back up a few hours later with a heck of a vendetta.

FtF: The Rage Virus – Proof Chivalry Does Exist

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So I realized these posts are similar to my Snow White & The Huntsman post in that unless you like spoilers, they are really For the Few who have seen 28 Weeks Later. I suspect I will do this with other movies in the future, so from now on when you see an entry start with FtF you will know there’s some definite spoiler potential ahead.

The thing with 28 Weeks Later is that it takes convention and throws it out the window. For starters, there’s the whole issue of the zombies. Zombies are supposed to be slow, stupid, and dead. The zombies of 28 Weeks Later are still alive, just infected with the rage virus. While they’re not brain surgeons to be sure, they’re not as stupid as typical zombies. And those suckers are SPEEDY. They don’t just shamble around. Oh no, they run.

If that’s not bad enough, the process of infection is much faster as well. Now almost every zombie movie, book, or video game has its own version of how the zombie epidemic starts, but past that the infection process is pretty standard. A bite or scratch will infect a live person, but it normally still takes a while for them to die and switch over. Not the rage virus. About 60 seconds past being bitten, a person is well and truly infected and running amuck. And you don’t even have to get bitten! These things spew their infected blood all over the place (gross) and if that gets into your system you’re doomed.

I suppose the only good thing about the rage virus victims is that since they’re still alive, they can also die a little easier than true zombies. This is only a slight advantage though. You still have to kill them. They don’t really seem to respond to pain, so regular incapacitation doesn’t work. Plus you have to make sure it’s not a messy kill so you don’t get infected blood in the system.

Not only does 28 Weeks Later change the expectations for “zombies,” the series also plays on expectations in crisis situations. The first movie took the idea of the military as a safe haven and blew it to smithereens. The second movie plays with this some more, but also looks at individual reactions.

The movie starts with a small group of survivors during the crazy days of infection. They are holed up in hiding, and an uninfected kid turns up. There’s some debate in the group over whether to let him in or not, but Alice, being a mother, insists on bringing him in. Her husband Don, while not looking thrilled, goes along with it.

It’s no real surprise when the infected show up shortly after. The kid runs to hide upstairs instead of escaping to the barn as the survivors had planned. At first, Don fights off the infected while Alice runs to help the kid. When Don goes to get them Alice refuses to leave without the kid. They end up at separate ends of a room when the infected burst in, and while Alice screams for Don to help he turns tail and flees.

Which sucks. I mean really there probably wasn’t much he could do since he’d dropped his weapon, but the idea of a husband completely abandoning his wife to a cruel end isn’t exactly cheering. Don escapes the house and even sees Alice in a window, but he doesn’t even move to help her before he can see her being attacked. You’ll note that when he tells his kids about what happens he presents the situation in a completely different light. Why? Because he knows he’s a rat bastard coward.

Now in the course of events, weeks later Don ends up infected and runs mad infecting tons of other survivors in a military safe zone. Scarlet is the medical officer that decides to save his children. The movie has already established the stereotype that women want to save children. I don’t really argue with that one. Sure, it’s not true for everyone, but in the same situation I’d try to save a child too. But in Scarlet’s case, her motivations are actually less maternal. She believes the kids may have a genetic trait that can lead to a cure for the rage virus. Thus she prioritizes their lives as needed for the greater good.

And finally, we’re to Doyle. The movie has already shown us an example of a horrible male “protector” in Don. Doyle is the other end of the scale – he’s like the perfect person to have handy during a zombie apocalypse. Besides being sexy, he’s strong, a good shooter, and tries to get a group to safety.

One of the things I like about movies versus books, is that I think movies leave more up to interpretation when it comes to character motivations. You’re not in the character’s head the same way you are with books. You only have their words and actions to work with. Doyle’s actions can be taken in two different ways.

The first interpretation could be that Doyle is just an outstanding human being that cares about the children. After all, when the military is killing everyone on site he abandons his post after seeing he would need to shoot the children with all the others. He has the same instinct as Alice to get the children to safety. But since he’s also just a good person, he helps the rest of the survivor group as well.

The second interpretation could be that Doyle secretly is in love with Scarlet. This is also hinted at, as earlier in the movie we see him watching her. And wouldn’t you know it, she just happens to be in the group of survivors he’s helping.

I like this interpretation better. Not only because I’m secretly a romantic at heart, but also because I think it fits more with the movie. It would explain why Doyle continues to help Scarlet. She tells him why the kids are more important, but Doyle keeps helping her hobble along as they escape. When you have freaking fast rage victims chasing you, you want to be fast too. The woman with a gunshot wound in the leg is not going to be the speediest companion. Yet Doyle never abandons her.

In the end, when they are stuck in the car, Doyle sacrifices himself for Scarlet and the kids to escape. Personally, I think it makes more sense at this point to assume he has a thing for Scarlet. Otherwise, it would be more logical to have Scarlet push the car. Doyle has the better chance of getting the kids out. Yet he wants to give all of them a chance to escape, willing to die an agonizing death (I am soooooo not fond of people burning to death) to see them to safety.

I find this particularly striking when we compare Doyle’s actions for people he doesn’t even really know, despite his potential romantic interest in Scarlet, to freaking Don who willingly abandoned his wife. Doyle’s death, while noble, is heart-breakingly tragic.

I suppose one of the reasons this sticks in my mind so much is because really, I’m pretty sure I would die in a world with zombies or the rage virus.

My friends and I used to have some safety plans for the zombie apocalypse. They mostly involved being around guys like our friend Fitzwilliam who were more likely to be effective at killing zombies. My other main plan was to hang out with my brother, who’d probably be pretty decent at staying alive too.

My problem is I have no faith in myself surviving on my own. I’m not particularly fast when running. I tend to fall a lot. Nor can I count on killing zombies. While I can shoot a gun with some accuracy, I definitely can’t guarantee making a kill shot.

Plus, at the end of the day, I don’t really think in a survival situation anyone would make sure I make it. While I love my brother dearly, he tends to get distracted. I would see this going more along the lines of him trying to round up survivors, because he is a decent person, and wandering along only paying attention to the immediate threat in front of him, and then going “hey has anyone seen my sister?” when meanwhile I’ve been munched on for the past 20 minutes.

It’s not that I want anyone to sacrifice themselves for me, like Doyle. That’s just far too tragic for my tastes. But it’d be comforting if I knew they’d make an effort to help me escape. Sadly though, I think Doyle is the exception to the rule. I think the world is full of Dons.