Happy Zombie Jesus Day! Or, Why Easter is the Most Terrifying Holiday

My friends and I are always preparing for the Zombie Apocalypse. Whether we are plotting who will be in charge of acquiring which supplies, or arguing over who should be in our survival team (one must possess demonstrably useful skills, be easy to put up with for the rest of our lives, and pass one easy test), it is always at least at the back of our minds. But I realized yesterday that we have overlooked a potential zombie scenario - and we all know that overlooking such scenarios is what gets people killed. So, below are the 5 reasons Easter is terrifying.

1. Jesus rose from the grave. And what do we call someone who is buried and manages to claw their way out of what is supposed to be their final resting place? That's right, a zombie.

2. He brought other dead people with him. Matthew 27:52-53 "The tombs were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised; and coming out of the tombs after His resurrection they entered the holy city and appeared to many." In other words, the death and resurrection of Jesus unleashed a plague of zombies on Jerusalem.

3. Even that wasn't the first time Jesus had caused zombies. Ever hear of Lazarus? Yeah, he'd been dead 4 days before Jesus turned him into a zombie.

4. It's in the Old Testament too. Ezekiel 37:14 "Then you, my people, will know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves and bring you up from them." Wait, you mean that zombification has been the plan all along? Sounds like it to me.

5. He's planning on coming back and making MORE zombies. Check out 1Thessalonians 4:16 "For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first." That's right kiddos, Jesus is planning on coming back - and he's bringing zombies! 

So, next time someone says "Happy Easter" to you, just remember that they're really wishing you a happy zombie apocalypse.

Turn, Turn, Turn

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave birth to it comes again.

     Nostalgia stalks me lately. It's waiting in old blog entries, in the halls I walk through, on the balcony of the building next door that I must pass every morning, on every shelf and in every box in my house. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to leap out and suffocate me with memories that can never again be wholly untainted by pain. 

     This town is haunted by ghosts of the living. The young'uns don't see the 6'3" man in a purple kilt sauntering down the hall. They don't hear the Disney songs being sung, smell the heavy cigarette smoke on the 3rd floor balcony, or feel the girl with the dragon tattoos slip up and surprise them from behind. But it's all there. Just beneath the surface, all of these people are there. As am I. I turn around some days, and I see the girl I used to be sitting under the tree, or skipping down the halls. I wonder if they know that they've left phantoms behind. I wonder what I've left behind in my old haunts.

     I was talking to my dad the other day about cycles and the ebb and flow of people in and out of our lives. It seems that I continually spiral through phases of meeting many new people, falling in love with them as people, and then watching the tribe dwindle and be pruned down until it's just me again. It's a beautiful, awful, natural, horrible cycle. But the Wheel turns.

     I think I've begun the long process of saying goodbye to this place. I've lived here longer than anywhere else now. Maybe I've stayed too long. Maybe I'll come back and stay forever. But never again in this particular phase of life. So everything takes on the poignancy of being "the last." The last fall I'll spend here, the last Syrup Sopping, the last time I'll register for classes, my last Halloween as a college student. It makes me treasure each event deeply, even while I'm chomping at the bit to move on to the next phase of life.It makes me difficult to be around some days. This place is profoundly mine, yet it no longer belongs to me. I've poured sweat, blood, and tears into this town - but I'm fading away into nothing more than a ghost. And I see the other ghosts fading as I slip away. For who will remain to remember the glory days? The long, lazy afternoons spent under the Happy Tree of the Happy People, the exploits of the Foy Table crew, Campus Climbing, the dinners in Broun Basement? And do the places that hold those memories become different places when no one sees the spectres that pervade them?

     I walked by the Tree today. There were two girls spread out under it, chit-chatting and doing homework. Making their own memories. Memories that one day they will also surrender to the usurping younger generation of students. And I was happy for them. Happy that they didn't yet know that they were becoming ghosts. Other people now haunt the nooks and crannies that I once loved so dearly. And that's the way it should be. The Wheel turns indeed.

Revisited and Revised

It took me most of the afternoon, but I managed to merge the Google account with my old blogger account - which means that I can actually use this again now. It needs work though. Expect changes and improvements in the near future. Shoot, maybe I'll even remember to write more often.

1 Me and Only 1

I filed my FAFSA for next school year today. I must admit, I had a little burst of glee when I finally got to check the "born before 1986, therefore independent" box. My elation did not last long however, for the next screen involved household size. I'm a household of one! I didn't realize that the federal government finally allowing me to file as an independent also meant that they no longer see me as part of my parents family! I guess I should have, and I actually had a conversation with a friend about this very subject just yesterday, but, having to enter only a one in that box really made it hit home. I'm a little bit saddened now.

The Quest

So, Tuesday night, Julie called me up and said "hey, can I come be a bum for a little while?" and of course I was fine with that, so she showed up, and "a little while" turned into the entire night cause she fell asleep. So, Wednesday "morning" when we all finally woke up, we realized that all three of us had an overweening desire for doughnuts. After ascertaining that A) no one would come and bring us doughnuts and B) we didn't really want to go all the way to Montgomery to get them, we finally gave in and got gas station doughnuts. Granted, they were sweet and tasty, and they filled us up, but, they really didn't satisfy that primal urge for Krispy Kreme.
Later that night, while we were sitting around at philosophy club, someone, I believe it was Kat, again brought up a desire for Krispy Kreme. Since everyone was about to head out anyway, and Evan and Alice expressed a similar desire, we made the decision to drive to Columbus to secure this prize. Now, Columbus is only about 30-45 minutes away, if you go the right way. Driving up 85 to the exit for 185 then driving back down 185 for about an hour is NOT the right way. A 30-45 minute trip quickly turned into almost two hours. Did I mention that I was sitting in the middle of the backseat, ie. the hump? We stopped at a gas station to get directions. The lady looked at us like we were crazy for asking for directions (we only later realized we were still an hour from Columbus) and wouldn't let us into the store because it was so late at night. After we FINALLY made it to Columbus, we got lost - twice. Now, these detours weren't entirely useless as during them we found both the S-Mart sign that we took pictures in front of for Julie, and the Cat Walk strip club - which we only avoided going to because Evan was demanding doughnuts.
So, after this long and arduous search, we finally spotted the holy grail, the blazing Krispy Kreme sign. We whipped into the parking lot, barely containing our glee, only to discover that it is not a 24 hour establishment. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! We gave brief consideration to waiting for it to open in 3 hours, such was our desire for the fluffy, sugary goodness, but in the end we decided that that was not feasible. So, we went next door and ate at Waffle House. Yes, that's right my friends - we took a 2 and a half hour trip, merely to eat at Waffle House.

OMW - Birthday Memories

My 21st birthday currently holds the place of "favourite" for me. Not because I was of "legal age" or any such thing, but rather because it was small, in a very special place, and with very good friends. I invited some of my then closest friends to come out to our favourite spot in the woods with me and roast hotdogs and marshmallows. Two of the girls had no clue what they were doing and I got to teach them how to cook pigs in blankets on a stick. One of the other girls was a very dear friend who declared that night that she was "adopting" me and we were now sisters. The closeness of friends huddled around a campfire in the early spring cold is a feeling I always love, and that particular time will always be treasured.

OMW - Value

So many things I could write about, the rocks I've picked up in my journeys through various countries, the pictures my siblings and other children I've babysat have drawn for me, the books on my shelf, my cat. But, the thing that sticks out most is the black glass bead bracelet on my wrist. I bought it from missionaries who were visiting our church two years ago, and it hasn't been off my person since. The beads were made from broken bottles that impoverished women in Africa collected and pounded up, poured into molds, and made into beads. It reminds me that nothing, and no one, is ever beyond redemption.(and that took a bit more than a minute, but oh well)