NOTE: These are not truly in chronological order, but it doesn’t really matter. I don’t have all the prompts, but you really don’t need them.

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January 17, 2007I’m pretty sure a blow to the head isn’t really a wake up call. It’ s more of a one way ticket to a headache and/or a severe concussion. Maybe a nice nap if you’re lucky. Now, a slap in the face would be the more appropriate term.

You see, normal people collect stamps and knick knacks. I collect medical problems. That’s right. I just can’t stand to be outdone. According to my doctor, I’m still likely to die from the cancer that will develop in the next twenty years, but heart disease might finish me off first. There’s not enough iron in my blood. Thus, I have to eat things like red meat. Unfortunately, my bad cholesterol is too high, so I can’t eat things like red meat.

What the hell?!

As far as I’m concerned, a medical problem doesn’t exist until the doctor says you have it. They have people who live their entire lives without knowing their cholesterol and it doesn’t kill them. Yet here I am, 17 years old, and I apparently have the body of a 50 year old.

Doctors must have this dartboard of medical problems. They just toss the dart and tell you that you’re sick. After all, the average citizen doesn’t understand that medical jargon. How are we supposed to know when they’re making it up and when they’re not?

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January 18, 2007

It’s either a spy movie, a kidnap flick, or a romantic comedy gone wrong. Also, if God were the kind benevolent being his books portray him as, he would tear out the voice box of the man doing the announcements before our brains bleed out of our ears.

Speaking of bleeding and bad movies, what is the problem with producers and directors like the ones who did Kill Bill or all those bad zombie movies? Did they not bleed enough as children so they make everyone in their movies do it Is their blood so thin that they feel the need to overcompensate by drowning their actors in it?

I suppose I could sit here and ponder their psychopathic tendencies all day and not get anywhere.

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January 19, 2007

It was the scratching that drove him crazy–or a combination of the scratching and endless moaning of the undead. We heard them, all day and all night, scratching at the walls in a futile attempt to climb the side of the makeshift fortress.

I didn’t want to shoot him, but he was going to kill us. He snapped, and he wanted to kill us all.

The outbreak started in a town about forty-five minutes to the west of our sleepy little city. Strange, violent homicides were reported where people attacked their relatives without weapons, often biting at them as if to eat them. People were dying of strange, unidentified diseases, and the dead were rising from the tables and gurneys in the hospitals and nursing homes.

I was one of the few who knew what these odd events truly meant: a zombie outbreak. They said I was crazy when I told them. “There’s so such thing as zombies,” they said.

Fortunately, they’re all dead now.

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January 24, 2007

Yes, well, believe what you want to. Most of my journals are angry. Oh well, screw that guy.

Do you ever have those days where you feel like the slightest thing could cause you to kill the person next to you or leap over eight desks just to tear someone’s throat out? I’m not having one of those days. I was just curious.

I happen to make moving speeches when I get fired up and angry. My problems come from when I’m not angry and someone gets at me for yelling at them. How the hell is “Please pass me the Windex?” an insult? Sensitive little fairies.

People like that piss me off. You know those kinds of people. They’re the people who can’t take a joke because they’re so self-conscious that they’ve developed a psychotic fear of rejection. Oh, of course, they’re going to blame their parents. “My mother didn’t pay enough attention to me” or “my father walked out on us when I was a little kid” are valid excuses when you’re five or twelve. Not when you’re twenty five or thirty.

No one is locked in their circumstances. You’re just too damned lazy to do anything about it.