Zombie Apocalyse. It's happening. One of these days. But when it does, I'll be prepared. I have a plan or at least a basis for a plan. I mean, how well can you plan for the unexpected. We don't know how or when it's going to begin. Will it begin in Asia? In America? In NY? In Florida? We don't know but we should have a plan!
There are the facts:
1. You get as far away from densely populated areas as fast as you can. 8.2 million people in NYC. 8.2 million ways to get dead.
2. You gather a group of useful and able people. Defending yourself, hunting, cooking, carrying equipment is a lot of work for one person. You should probably make a group on your phone so you can speed dial them when the outbreak occurs
a. these are the following people/professions that should tag along:
- doctor
- cop
- construction worker
- a fast runner
- people that don't frazzle easily
- someone who owns a cabin, farmhouse, or lakehouse in the countryside.
Preferably with lots of land, a fence, on high ground.
(this is optional. We could always just take it from someone)
- someone slow or physically disabled. For bait. (don't judge me.)
3. You gather supplies. Not 3 months from now when the world is in shambles and the undead are running around and the unaffected are killing each other because our civilzation doesn't know how to handle ourselves in a crisis. Right NOW! I never understand why the people in these zombie movies and shows wait until the last minute to start moving. The SECOND I catch wind of an outbreak, I'm out of here! I'm going to the grocery store, the bank (to take out all my money--zombie bank tellers are no help when you want to make a withdrawl), Home Depot, a place that sells weapons, and Target. There is no, "lets wait a while and see if it goes away". pfft, people.
4. There is a clear understanding that there are no emotional attachements to anyone. If you're coming with me, you better know that if you are bit, scratched, or get some zombie juice in your eye, I will kill you. Even if you are my sister. You're putting the group in danger. Go quietly to the light. I'm sure we'll meet you there soon enough
I think about what would happen in a disaster a lot. Not just zombies, but tsunamis, earthquakes, hurricanes, etc.. I love watching disaster movies because it makes me realize that I don't know how to do anything. We're so sheltered as a civilization, in the cities especially. These are the following things I plan to do in the next year so that I am better prepared for life:
1. learn how to shoot a gun properly. All guns.
2. learn to shoot a bow and arrow (silent zombie killers. Gunshots=only last resort)
3. learn to fight. Hand to hand combat. If anyone knows of an underground fight club please let me know. I figure you have to be in it to learn properly.
4. learn how to build a fire
Be prepared, stay alive.
And to those of you who have made the cut for my group, you will be contacted soon to work out the details.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Monday, October 8, 2012
I'm Officially Too Old And Without A Story To Tell
Since I moved back to the Bronx, the nights I have spent out in the City has greatly diminished. I used to go out at least 1-2 nights a week. Now, I'm lucky if I leave my couch 1 night out of a 2 week period. And usually I'm home by 11pm when I do go out. Aging has made me tired.
I miss the city so much though--Even more so when I finally do manage to get myself off my couch. But the thought of having to ride the 6 train back home for an hour makes me want to hurt myself. I miss the 15 minute cab ride home. Going out in the Bronx is ok, but it's not the same. Our choices here are limited.
I was on the UES this past Saturday. I left around 1 am and while walking to the train, I passed by all the bars on 2nd and 3rd avenue. And I realized something: I didn't actually miss going to bars. I just shook my head as I passed the group of young twenty-somethings yelling and screaming down the block. I scoffed as I watched 2 drunk girls trying to get each other into a cab, each of them hoping the other knows where they live. I rolled my eyes I as saw some dude try to bring home the silly little girl he just met that night.
I don't miss that. But, as I was halfway to the train and waiting for the light to change I looked at all the cabs passing me by and just wanted to cry. It was 1:30am, I was tired and I wasn't even halfway home. I finally made it to the train platform to discover that the train had just left and I had another 10 minutes. As I waited, I looked around and noticed that among the garbage on the platform, there was a bunch of red stuff on the floor by the bench. Looking closer and putting it together was some soiled bounty towels that was on the bench, I realized it was blood. I wrinkled my nose, shook my head, took a picture and logged it into the memory bank.
Because I realized this: I don't have any more good stories. I thought about this while sitting on the train for 40 minutes. I've blogged less this year than ever before and I realized, it was a cycle. I don't go out, I don't see people and things, I have nothing to say, I don't blog, I watch a lot of Netflix, I go to bed. Yes, the city is dirty and noisy and there's lots of stupid people, but I had stories at least. When I'm older and tied down with kids and a husband (or two), I'm not really going to have stories. NOW is the time to be a part of the stories. So, for the next few months, before it gets way too cold to leave the house, I resolve to go out, meet new people, and find some stories. My couch will be there; I can spare a night or two out a week. It's not even that comfortable,anyway.
This is the only story I have:
I miss the city so much though--Even more so when I finally do manage to get myself off my couch. But the thought of having to ride the 6 train back home for an hour makes me want to hurt myself. I miss the 15 minute cab ride home. Going out in the Bronx is ok, but it's not the same. Our choices here are limited.
I was on the UES this past Saturday. I left around 1 am and while walking to the train, I passed by all the bars on 2nd and 3rd avenue. And I realized something: I didn't actually miss going to bars. I just shook my head as I passed the group of young twenty-somethings yelling and screaming down the block. I scoffed as I watched 2 drunk girls trying to get each other into a cab, each of them hoping the other knows where they live. I rolled my eyes I as saw some dude try to bring home the silly little girl he just met that night.
I don't miss that. But, as I was halfway to the train and waiting for the light to change I looked at all the cabs passing me by and just wanted to cry. It was 1:30am, I was tired and I wasn't even halfway home. I finally made it to the train platform to discover that the train had just left and I had another 10 minutes. As I waited, I looked around and noticed that among the garbage on the platform, there was a bunch of red stuff on the floor by the bench. Looking closer and putting it together was some soiled bounty towels that was on the bench, I realized it was blood. I wrinkled my nose, shook my head, took a picture and logged it into the memory bank.
Because I realized this: I don't have any more good stories. I thought about this while sitting on the train for 40 minutes. I've blogged less this year than ever before and I realized, it was a cycle. I don't go out, I don't see people and things, I have nothing to say, I don't blog, I watch a lot of Netflix, I go to bed. Yes, the city is dirty and noisy and there's lots of stupid people, but I had stories at least. When I'm older and tied down with kids and a husband (or two), I'm not really going to have stories. NOW is the time to be a part of the stories. So, for the next few months, before it gets way too cold to leave the house, I resolve to go out, meet new people, and find some stories. My couch will be there; I can spare a night or two out a week. It's not even that comfortable,anyway.
This is the only story I have:
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