Well... I did it.

I actually created a separate blog just for my pretend human life.
Posts will start showin' up Sunday the twenty-second.


Don't you just want to run over there right this second?

My so called "life"

Hmm... shall I create a blog specifically for what my human life would be like? If I hadn't changed?
I think I might.


It would take a lot of imagination.*Whew*

Almost wares me out just thinking about it.

Grr.

Being a zombie, I find the term 'grounded' insulting.

My mother will be hearing from my attorney.




"I am not a crook!"

Restriction

For tonight and tomorrow, I may be posting a lot of pointless crap. But don't we all? The reason for my crap for the next night and day? Boredom. I am so bored, I'm practically comatose. Music is my life, but it only entertains me for so long.

My mother really needs to give back the ps3.

I don't deserve the dang grounding that I am currently withstanding.

Am I that scary?

When I logged in, all of my post were gone. I guess I scared them so bad that I had to go hunt them down.

They're back now, but they refused to cooperate until I used force.

I guess I bring out the best in people.
And inanimate objects.

Got a little overcast in my life

The weather has been beautiful the past oh, gee... four days. Absolutely cloudy, dark, and raining. Couldn't have asked for anything better. The second I graduate high school, Seattle better look out. They have a new freak coming to town. I'm not the only freak there though.

I'm sure I'll fit right in.

I always thought I was old

Huh. I always thought it was fun and entertaining, shocking the hell out of people with my age.
And now I have proof. Inside, I'm more than half my age.

That's me. Fifteen going on thirty-one.

http://www.helloquizzy.com/tests/the-what-is-your-real-age-test
http://www.helloquizzy.com/

I wont sing anymore, I'm losing control...

Cut it out of my mouth, put my tongue on a poll, take the air from my lungs, take the heart from my soul...

Aren't we different enough? Apparently not, let's add another flaw to the list. Some would argue that we're crazy already, due to the hitch in our step and while...talking like...this. But are we actually crazy? Are we able to go crazy? You would think that after everything us DB's have been through, we would be crazy after a matter of days. But, I still feel sane. The White Van epidemic still prevails, and many people blame this on paranoia. Can the Differently Biotic be paranoid? Maybe it's a side effect? My friend Elisabeth and I can't seem to figure out the answer. She has written a post about this on her blog, also. You can see it here at: http://awindthrough.blogspot.com/

We want your opinions. We want them like Hollywood zombies want brains.
Please be our brains.

A snow day. In Vegas. Who would have guessed?

On December twelth of '08, Las Vegas Nevada had a snow day. Now this is not the first time it snowed, mind you, but this was the first time that it snowed hard enough to get everyone out of school since 1979. Everyone in high school and below, were not around in 1979, so this was a huge deal. No one, not even seniors, had experienced a snow day, as long as they have been here.

That was a pretty boring day.

Afraid for my Non-Life

Ha! Well saw something today. Not one, but two white vans. We all had to squeeze in between them to get out of school. They were almost completely blocking the exits. They left a very narrow walk way. I was dead certain, (no pun intended), that they were waiting just for me. But I slid through and got to the bus without incident. I did manage a peek inside, though. There were gates separating the cab from the back. I swore, if I still had circulating blood, it would have ran cold.

The White Van epidemic

Well, considering my title, i'll give you one guess as to what I saw today. Yep, a white van. Parked right outside my school. I bet you get a little tired of hearing the 'undead' talk about the white vans, but this is serious business. You can only come back once. We know people want us dead... for good. But believe it or not, there are some people out there who want us kept alive.

My so-called 'Death'

Everyone has a story to tell, differently biotic or not. Us, zombies, seem to have more to tell. Our life stories and our 'non-life' stories. Even our deaths. Although, our stories wouldn't seem so long if we could talk at a normal speed. My story is neither long, nor pretty. It won't give you butterflies, and it's not a romance. But if your as curious as I was, this story will have you at the edge of your seat. Not a fact that I am particularly proud of.

I was fifteen. Eagerly awaiting my sixteenth birthday. I'd had my permit for six months. Driving wasn't that bad when you got passed the stress of screwing up. Besides, having loving parents and great friends there with you, it helps a lot. I had never had the kinds of friends that stabbed you in the back. With my friends, there never was any doubt. I was never the kind of kid who was mean unnecessarily. I was never in the group of girls who were mean to everybody, and acted like sluts around the guys. I also had a lot of guy friends. They felt like brothers, and they treated me like their sister. Protected me. They would never let anything happen to me. It was too bad that they weren't there the eve of my sweet sixteenth.

I had always been a great swimmer. My dad taught me when I was very little, in the pool of our apartment complex. I caught on quickly. While my school was in a small town, it wasn't small enough to not have a competitive swimming team. Besides football, basketball and volleyball, swimming was a big deal to my little town.

There had been some crime in our area around that time. There had been sightings of a supposed serial killer in or around town. Police had a warrant for his arrest, but he was slippery. The local police had been notified, but they had no leads of his whereabouts.

My birthday had fallen on a Saturday that year. I saw it as a good omen.

I always rode the bus home. But I was ecstatic to have known that after the weekend, I would no longer have to ride the cramped bus. But this Friday, I had stayed after school to make up some assignments. My parents were always on my back about missing assignments, so I tried to knock a few out that day. My school had no late busses, so by the time I was finished, it was considerably dark out. I had been running late that morning, forgetting my cell phone in the process. It wasn't that long of a walk home, and I didn't mind. In November, the sun set quickly. It was almost completely dark by the time I was half way home. Having my headphones on, listening to one of my favorite bands, I almost didn't hear the white van pull up next to me. I almost didn't hear the questionable looking man offer me a ride. I quickly declined his offer. Knowing enough about safety since I was a kid to protect myself even then, years later. The man didn't seem to appreciate my answer.

"Come on, baby. I know you must be tired. Who knows how long you have been walking." Slightly annoyed, I laced my answer with a bit more venom than intended.

"No thank you, sir. I haven't been walking that long. I don't mind." I started walking faster. Hoping he'd get my point that I didn't want a ride.

He didn't.

He pulled his truck around to stop perpendicular to me. Cutting off my path. By now I was getting a little nervous. I had only a little experience in fighting. I could probably get the chance to run away if I kicked him in the groin, or shoved his nose into his brain, but not if he got the upper hand first.

By now he was out of his truck, I was almost sprinting, trying to get around his truck without having to get anywhere near him. But he was fast. He was around to the other side of the truck before I had cleared it. He caught me around the waist. Restraining the use of my arms, cutting off chances of defense. I struggled, using my legs to kick anything I could. I only managed to land a blow on his foot, but it didn't seem to phase him. The man effortlessly dragged me towards his truck. I'll admit, I had some muscle, due to swimming, but this man was lethal. Absolutely fit. It was no wonder how easily he caught up to me and forced me to the back of his van. The memories get fuzzy from here, but I know that he had hit me in the back of the head. Knocking me out cold. While falling into unconsciousness, I vaguely remember being placed in the back of the van.

I do not think I was out for very long. We were in the woods. He was standing over me, looking smug. I almost reached up and slapped that smug smile from his face. Almost did, but I didn't.

I knew he was the serial killer people had been seeing in the area. It was obvious. I also knew from past newspaper articles that he liked he victims awake when he was killing them. But to my relief, none of the articles had said he liked to rape his victims first.

Nobody knew any murderer's motive for killing people, but this man's was especially useless. He didn't even try to make a game out of it. He just killed. The man brought a knife out his pocket. I knew what was coming next. To brace myself, I closed my eyes. I could not fight back even if I had wanted to. No feeling in my body had returned. And it wouldn't.

It still hasn't.

Mythological Creatures

When being a living zombie, it would only make sense to believe in other creatures. Or at least believe in the possibility that there are other creatures out there, weather living in the world of the dark, or in a world all your own. The 'trad' biotics have yet to configure up a logical reason of why we are the way we are. So had it ever crossed their minds that us, 'differently' biotic kids may not be the only abnormal things out there?