Zombie Love Story

Okay so let me preface by saying this is in it's very beginning stages meaning that I have written a first draft only and that is what you are about to read. I adore the show The Walking Dead on AMC about zombies and that inspired me to attempt (key word here) to write my own zombie story. Here goes:

"Silence!" Jeff angrily whispered in Skyler's general vicinity. It was impossible to tell where the shuffling was coming from, but Jeff could sense it was close. Skyler was more trouble than he was worth. Why did I agree to let him tag along? wondered Jeff as he attempted to slow down his racing heart.

(CLANG)

"Shit, he's done it now. Every zombie within two miles will be able to find our location," Jeff mumbled. He was on the move heading toward the sound and preparing exactly how he was going to tell off Skyler. As he cautiously inched around an abandoned station wagon he was pleasantly surprised to see Skyler's lean frame hovering over a freshly killed zombie. The clang had been from the shovel connecting with HWY 193 as Skyler drove it straight through his victim's left cheek, just below the eye socket. The cut had been clean, but it was abrupt enough to dislodge the left eye from its socket and it now dangled a few inches from the pavement hanging barley by one remaining tendon.

"Well done Skyler! Did you see any others?" Jeff asked glancing around. "Nah," Skyler said flippantly, still beaming from his latest manly feat. "You should've seen me Jeff!" Skyler proclaimed, "I killed 'em clean with one blow. A single blow man!" Jeff had never seen Skyler so vibrant and filled with life before. He smirked to himself as he felt a small sense of pride. After all, it was him who had shown Skyler where and how to strike for the most effective kill. Suddenly Jeff came back to the present and remembered the shuffling he had heard only moments ago. He motioned for Skyler to be still and turned his ear to where he had previously been.

He couldn't hear the shuffling anymore, but decided it was best to move forward immediately on the chance that the sound was from a death creature. And, he couldn't ignore the fact that the sun was only a couple hours from setting. He couldn't chance being on the open road in the dark. Skyler and he would be better off to find a place to make camp and get some rest for tomorrow's long journey. Tomorrow is when they headed to Austin. There was rumor of an old army outpost that had a large community of living. Austin was an 8 hour journey from where they were and they needed all the strength they had. Jeff chose first watch after they settled high in an abandoned tree house. Skyler was younger and needed more rest. As Skyler's breathing steadied and settled into a rhythm, Jeff began thinking of Florida and that vacation he took with Elise 2 summers ago. She had the most radiant green eyes and a smile that warmed his soul. Jeff felt a tinge of sadness and before a tear could well up he moved his thoughts toward the day he first laid eyes on Elise.

It was a cold November day. One where you walked a little briskly to pound the chill from your bones. A day when a slightly red nose and blowing warm breath into gloved hands was a unifier across socio-economic status, race and gender. Everyone felt the cold, everyone was the same in this way. Jeff was up early and halfway through his four mile trek to his job at the rubber factory. [He woke up every morning at 4:45am and began his routine. The coffee pot would be finishing up as he stepped from the steamy bathroom. He would sit and read the paper while sipping his coffee, strong and black, and watching the neighborhood slowly come to life. He would rinse his mug and hang it up before lacing his steel-toed boots and donning his Carhartt. South Dakota was a cold place to be in the fall.]

Normally, he took the route past the middle school and creek, but that was an extra half mile added to his journey and the chill in the air made Jeff select the route through downtown. He loved this winter route because the shop owners would be unlocking their stores and setting up as he cantered through the small square. His favorite shop was a bookstore tucked between the CVS and a furniture store. You might miss it unless you looked up and saw the neon sign situated in the second story window. It was simple and said only IMAGINE, but its soft blue glow made Jeff feel at home. The advantage of this route was the twenty or so extra minutes it allowed Jeff to peruse the bookstore.

He entered the door and climbed the creaky, wooden stairs to his haven on the second level. Mrs. Millie greeted him with a warm smile and soft hello, "Good morning Jeff. We've got some new books on WWII this weekend. One is even about the Holocaust. I saved them behind the counter so you could have first look." Mrs. Millie was kind but don't let her 88 year old exterior fool you, she was still quite spry. "Thank you Mrs. Millie. I brought you some of my teryaki beef jerky today," Jeff replied.

You see, Jeff and Mrs. Millie had an arrangement. She saved all the books related to WWII for him and once a month he brought her some of his deer jerky. Exactly how this arrangement came to pass is a story for another day.

Jeff made the trade and headed to his favorite chair to skim the selection and decide if any were worthy of purchase. As he sat down he noticed what appeared to be a heap of clothing on his left in the aisle related to literary classics. He turned and looked more closely at what he now recognized as a wiry young lady. She had dark brown curls that, caught just right in the light, had the slightest hint of auburn to them. She looked up and smiled and he was forever hers from that day forward. Jeff snapped out of his trance and returned the smile. She had on so many layers it was impossible to make out her figure beneath them. Jeff could care less as long as she always smiled at him with that smile that filled his soul to bursting. He couldn't speak or move, all he could do was bask in her radiance.

Finally, Jeff regained control of his limbs and forced his legs to stumble toward this bedraggled beauty. "Hi, my name's Jeff. Do you need any help finding anything?" he asked as he casually tried to lean against the shelf. "Actually, I'd love some and I'm Elise," she said with a voice almost as lovely as her smile. Suddenly the clock chimed 6:30am and Jeff snapped out of his daze and realizes he is going to be late for work. "Do you come here often Elise?" Jeff asks hurriedly regretting his lame word choice, "Meet me here next week at 3:45pm same day?!?" She laughs and replies, "Well, since you didn't leave me much choice I guess it's a date!" Jeff's body is lighter and he's floating down the steps and out the door as he takes one more glance over his shoulder to see Elise back in the floor humming and smiling as she scans the section he led her toward. She's even beautiful when lost in thought.

All day long at work, Jeff keeps reliving those precious moments. The week creeps along and it seems like decades pass before Thursday arrives again.

Thursday creeps along just as slowly and after suffering through several agonizing hours of anticipation his shift ends. Jeff quickly dons his heavy winter coat and scrambles out the gate, beaming the entire walk to the bookstore.

He arrives and nervously climbs to the second floor, greets Mrs. Millie (who is more giddy than usual) and heads straight for the classical literature section. Elise is not there. His heart sinks and his breath catches in his chest. His shoulders slump and he wanders over to his favorite chair to peer through a few books before he forces himself to return home. Stupid he thought. Why did I get my hopes up? Obviously she wouldn't be here. I am a fool. As Jeff sinks somberly into his over-sized chair he realizes he forgot to grab a book. He sighs and hoists himself from the chair a little more upbeat as he recalls the new WWII books Mrs. Millie had set aside for him should still be on the shelf. He turns into the aisle and notices her feet first.

He slowly looks up from the moccasins and follows the thin legs in navy blue tights up to the hem of a light purple dress that hugs all the right places of an athletic but shapely woman. He reaches the smile and sparkling green eyes and realizes this lovely figure is Elise.

"You came?!" Jeff says surprised. Laughing, Elise responds, "You didn't leave me much choice. Plus you have kind eyes and strong hands so I figured it wouldn't hurt to see you again." And there's that smile. Jeff strides toward her and...

(SLAP)

His cheek is on fire.

Shit, I feel asleep. Skyler is throwing their gear haphazardly into their packs. Jeff can't believe he dozed off. He's angry at himself, his cheek still stings, and he's grasping at the fleeting image of her smile. "I've been shaking you for ten minutes dude!" Skyler irritably states, "I had to slap you man. Get your gun, we're surrounded by at least eight." Shit. Shit. Shit. Why am I such an idiot, Jeff thinks while grabbing his rifle and surveying his surroundings. As he looks out of the treehouse Jeff spots...

(to be continued)

A Whole New Mind

Reading is a hobby of mine and recently I have been reading A Whole New Mind by Daniel H. Pink for a literature circle in my Assessment class this semester. (The book is a quick and easy read for anyone interested in how careers are catering more to the typical right-brain talents and more artsy side.) This week's assigned reading section had a portfolio of fun tasks you could do to improve or expand your knowledge of design and storytelling. One challenge really grabbed my attention and I decided to try it here. The task was to write a story/mini-saga in 50 words. Exactly. I decided to write about my journey to where I am currently at in my life. So here is my attempt:

Bright-eyed and overpowered by numerous ringlets, eight-year old Laura dreams of her future.

Years pass and she grows into her curls embodying their energy and bounce. She struggles through her shattered dreams and grows new visions from their wreckage.

Eight-year old Laura thrives inward, constantly encouraging her adult counterpart onward.

Inspiring Words

I have developed two theories about Jesus:

1. He laughs hysterically at my feeble attempts to function and greatly enjoys the multitude of awkward moments in my life with an ever present smile that resembles the same grin parents give precocious toddlers who think they are ready to conquer the world.

2. He constantly fights the urge to slam his head into a wall when he thinks about how frustrating I am due to my extreme faith in my own talents and abilities

Regardless of whether either one of these images is correct (although I'm rooting for #1) Jesus is consistently there and patiently guiding me along my path. My little sister Emma made her status this the other day:

You can't be something you're not. No matter how hard you try. But there is a reason for that. God made you who he wanted you to be. You are beautifully and individually made. You are YOU for a reason, now go change the world...your way, God's way.

This really stood out to me and brought my attention immediately to the sermon I had heard this past Sunday evening. (God knows I'm slow so he sends things/answers to prayers my way at least twice so I catch them) The speaker discussed Ephesians 2:1-10. It related to the sentiment my little sister expressed. The sentiment that God created each and everyone of us with a distinct purpose in mind and that alone makes us special. To really give you a vivd depiction of the passage I have included the scripture (adding my own emphasis) in its entirety below:

"As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our sinful nature and following its desires in our thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature objects of wrath. But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions---it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him, in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith---and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God---not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

That last verse clearly defines my very purpose on this Earth. My name is written in the script! Worldly achievement doesn't make me somebody. I am somebody because Jesus loves me and there is no honor greater that can be bestowed. I am already in the script because God wrote the script and wrote my name in their with love. He chose the part for me that made the entire play better. Instead of envying the lead roles and wishing a place among the stars, I should delight that I was included in the production. Each role is significant whether the audience is aware of it or oblivious to it. My problem is my pride, I want credit and glory and that is only temporary. Instead I should focus on how to make the script better and play my part as best I can. Emma's thoughts and this sermon really reassured me that I do have purpose. I love when Jesus hits me over the head with some knowledge!

On a lighter, slightly not related note, I definitely gave Jesus a giggle this week. I was in the hallway of a local school preparing to teach a lesson to a fifth grade class and I chose to utilize the few extra minutes before I went into the classroom to use the restroom and double check that I looked appropriate and presentable (it was rainy and windy and the curls can get a little unruly sometimes). I immediately walked directly to my right and got halfway to the stalls when I noticed the man at the urinal. That was definitely out of place and I made a u-turn and ducked into the side with pinkish-red colored walls and prayed I had not been seen. I was just glad it wasn't a student and I didn't have to awkwardly explain that I am an imbecile quite frequently. Needless to say it was not the relaxing moment I had intended before approaching a class of ten year olds. Also, it must be noted that this is probably the fourth or fifth time I have marched directly into a men's restroom only to be surprised by the amount of urinals. Jesus had to have had a laugh at that moment.

So whether He is helping me navigate the maze that is life and fulfilling my purpose or a simpler task of finding the correct bathroom, he is always there and for that I am thankful. He keeps me focused on the main objective and is fun to be silly with on the way.

Cold Weather and Cold War Kids

Be Efficient and Integrate Basic Skills is the chapter heading in the book I should be reading for class tomorrow, but let's be honest writing is much more entertaining and writing as a form of procrastination is pure glory. So Routman and Language Arts can wait until tomorrow because the Cold War Kids refuse to be ignored. I recently downloaded several of their albums and "Skip the Charades" is a track that keeps on playing whenever I hit shuffle or hit up Pandora for sweet tune-age.

Cold weather was designed for Indie Rock. It offers a dreamy, melancholy vibe to accompany weaher that was meant for deep thought, snuggling up in a blanket, and slipping into a slight depression. A stanza from the aforementioned song snapped me out of studying to ponder life as I know it.

You dodged the bullet
You do your best when you're busiest
You're disconnected
You can't find your name in the script

These lyrics captured my attention because they aptly described my current state. I have always stayed incredibly busy to avoid the areas of my life that bum me out. I segment all aspects of my life and only connect with the ones that make me happy. I prefer to use the waffle analogy to better describe this sense of disconnect. When pouring syrup onto a waffle it sits neatly and separately in each square. This type of compartmentalization exists in me as it does in a syrupy waffle. I am completely disconnected from anything that makes me sad. It helps to keep busy because then I have less down time to think about areas that I have been avoiding.

I really have been feeling like a random character in this huge story of life with no relevance to the central plot. If I were included in the credits of a movie they would list me as Average Girl #23 and keep rolling. I am striving to find my purpose, my reason for existence, and I am struggling. I constantly feel as if I were floundering. I go through the motions and find happiness in the mundane, but part of me feels something is lacking, and I can't shut it up.

Weary is a great word to describe my current mentality. It has been twenty-five years of searching and my name is still missing from the script. I fade into the background and wonder how the lead characters must feel living out my dream roles. Relax, I am not depressed. I just want desperately to have the few simple things I long for: a teaching position that allows me to inspire students, a loving husband to snuggle and share sorrow with, my own children to drown in my abounding love, and a sense of purpose that lets me know I am making a difference. It is hard to feel impact-ful when I comde home to a stuffed animal and my unique gifts and talents are being used to make sandwiches. Frustration can't help but seep in and I begin to ponder where my life is headed and wonder if I will ever arrive.

Further into the song there is a lyric that says:

I'm the one that's acting like I'm so strong
You're the one that's acting like nothing's wrong

Can we skip the charades?
Just speak plain

I tend to act like everything is always hunky-dory (spelling?) and be the strong person who is never sad, tired, stressed, lonely, etc. That gets tiresome so I am using this post to speak plain and express my vulnerabilities. I am soaking up the solemn truths "Skip the Charades" has brought to life and going to bask in the melancholy for a few moments more. So I bid you goodbye and leave you with a slightly more uplifting song by The Features. Here are the lyrics to "Whatever Gets You By":

So here we are
It's like we never really left the start
Time heals the wound
But then there's still the scar
To remind us of the way it's meant to be

I'll sing a song
A melody for what has come and gone
Try to convince the choir to sing along
Here's to tomorrow
Or whatever gets you by
(emphasis added)

I Love a Good Fort

"SNOWBALL FIGHT!" Those were two of the best words growing up in Tennessee. Anyone who has been a resident of this lovely state can attest that those two words are beautiful because of their scarcity. We are lucky to experience any snowfall that is capable of supporting an epic snow battle. You need the perfect constitution of snow of snow to form a good snowball. If it isn't compact-able and breaks apart before you even rear back to throw, that is no beuno. And we have all felt the cold sting of a mostly ice snowball; it isn't pleasant.

Oh, but on those glorious days when the snow formed into the perfect circular shape and burst upon impact, life was good. After taking a few minutes to go crazy and run aimlessly through the yard pummeling all participants, it was time to strategize. I was brilliant and quickly assessed our backyard and deemed the two story fort the prime location for home base.

The fort was seated in the direct center of our backyard and 50 yards from the back property line. This provided a perfect vantage point for a full scale attack. Soldiers on the ground were helpless once I scaled the side of the fort to rest atop the roof. I bombed opponent after opponent as they dared approach my tower.

Cold war battles weren't the only reason I loved our fort. It was established in the spring of 1992. Our family arose early one morning and my dad took on the responsibility of foreman and construction worker and began barking his orders. I felt so unbelievably cool getting to hammer in nails and carry supplies up the ladder to my dad. At the time I thought he kept giving me these important tasks because I was crucial to the development of this masterpiece. As an adult, I realize that he was just keeping my eager and clumsy hands as far away from the actual construction as possible. Diddy erected the entire fort and Mom, Sarah, HB, and I pretended to help.

The layout was epic. Facing the fort you were met with a slide on the left and the ladder to the second level on the right of the main structure. In between the slide and ladder was the bottom level (a lemonade stand would grace the presence of that floor a few years later when Sarah and I started our not so lucrative business, but that is a different story). The top story had an opening out the back that connected with a net ladder leading to the ground. Extending out of the right side of the fort was a large beam that supported a tire swing. A hammock also hung from the right corner and attached to the tree nearby. Don't fret, the left side did not disappoint. A large beam extended from that side to support several swings. One was for babies, two were normal, and one was a seesaw-ish shape with handles. They were all a good time.

I loved that fort. There was no limit to imagination when playing on its structure. I could be a pirate sailing the seven seas, a dedicated mother tidying my home, a secret society member hosting meetings, etc. My sisters and I would pile all the leaves that had fallen at the base of the slide and it provided a fun landing pad. We leapt from the swing just as it reached the highest arc. And, because we were fearless, we climbed to the roof to show our heart. It also provided a great brooding place when I got sick of being in a house with five other personalities as lively as mine.

Time and weather slowly took effect and the fort became dilapidated. For safety reasons my dad decided to tear it down when I was a senior in high school. The backyard just wasn't the same. Now if I am home when it snows I am forced to duck for cover behind trees and brave the open field instead of annihilating my opponents from my lofty perch. Alas, I am no longer invincible.

The Night the Burglar Came to My Room

It was a typical evening in the Caylor household. Dad was at work finishing his rounds and Mom was getting us ready for bed. Bath time went smoothly and it was not until I went to put on my pj’s that things got crazy.

I ran down the hall (we had bath time in my parent’s bathroom) and flipped on the light to Sarah (younger sister) and mine’s room. I picked out a sweet set of jammies for the both of us and ran back to hang out with Mom while Sarah finished her bath. After Sarah was squeaky clean and in the pj’s I brought her we walked into the hallway.

Mom abruptly stopped and stared into our bedroom with a very concerning look of trepidation. It freaked me out a little bit at age four or five or six –obviously my memory is excellent—to see her look so frightened. Before I realized what was happening she had grabbed the butcher knife from our kitchen and was quizzing Sarah and I on whether or not we had left our bedroom light on in the most frantic of whispers. I sure was not going to tell the hysterical woman wielding the glistening knife that I was the culprit. I watched anxiously as Mom inched toward our doorway. A few steps before reaching the threshold she had a change of heart and dropped the knife back off at the kitchen on her way to dragging us barefoot down the gravel driveway to our neighbor’s the Michaelcheck’s.

The moments following are blurry and I don’t remember any distinct details. My memory picks back up with me standing at my parent’s feet and looking up at their, what seemed giant at the time, silhouettes. I remember my Dad had arrived by that point and the grown-ups were standing around about to call the police about the burglar. Now it all clicked and I realized that Mom thought the light was on from a burglar. I knew that the cops meant serious trouble and that I had better speak up even though I feared the worst kind of punishment was about to be brought down on my head. I meekly tugged at Dad’s coat, and if you know me you know I do not do anything meekly so this was highly out of character for me, and timidly confessed my guilt in a barely audible tone.

There was instant relief that our home remained criminal free, but that was immediately followed by anger at me wasting their time. I reasonably explained my hesitation due to the intimidating appearance Mom gave off when I thought I was going to be chopped to little pieces for forgetting to turn the light off upon exiting my bedroom. They understood but sternly lectured me all the same about the consequences of not owning up to things. Believe me I thoroughly learned my lesson that night. We trekked back to our house and I slept easy knowing that the giant butcher knife was sheathed.

One Day

I have to begin this post with a confession: I sneak into movies. There I said it. Now that that is out in the open you should know that I do this frequently. About once a month I treat myself to a Sunday Funday where I pay Carmike $5 and catch up on all the movies I couldn't coerce someone to go with me to. One day I challenged myself and prepared by bringing (I also sneak in food/drink...I'm a bad person, I'm aware) 4 Dr. Peppers, 2 chocolate items and 2 sweet items. I had a beverage and snack for each movie. If you are good at math then you realize I saw 4 movies back-to-back in one afternoon. I was kinda proud...don't judge.

Anywho, this past Sunday afternoon I decided to see "The Help" and "One Day" because my roommates saw it while I was out of town...sad day. "The Help" did not disappoint and I definitely teared up at several points. If you haven't read the book, you NEED to because the book is ALWAYS better than the movie and this film was great. I also lucked out because the 4pm show was sold out so I had to attend the 5pm show which left a considerable gap until the 9:45 showing of "One Day" and "Captain America" was the perfect filler. It was well made and I loved how it alluded to the era it was created in by being less dark than the most recent Batman series.

Now to the piece de resistance: "One Day" with adorable Anne Hathaway and dreamy Jim Sturgess. I now want, no need, to move to England so I can run into him on the regular. This movie was very sad and I loved it because it really made me think about life. The underlying theme is that of squandered moments. I don't want to give away the plot so I won't. After viewing the film my heart ached for all the moments that I too had squandered. I could really relate to the main character in the sense that he watched his life pass him by and felt remorse.

I am incredibly happy with the track that my life is currently on, but there are a lot of moments in the past where I have chosen poorly or thought only of the present. I think there is a lot to be said for living in the moment and it is joyous, but one should also have the future in the back of their minds.

The movie also made me think of my love life as any romantic movie will inevitably make a single lady do. I tend to fall head over heels for assholes. I like nice guys, I really do, but I can never seem to find one that actually has a pair. I am a really strong personality and the last thing I want to date is some guy that has no spine. Hence my attraction to jerks. The movie really made me consider how many great guys I have missed out on because I instantly wrote them off as a friend.

Here is to being more open minded and giving nice guys a chance. I am going to move away from the jerk with the devilish grin and start going for the man with the angelic heart. Who knows how it will work out. At the end of the day though, I won't have squandered any precious moments on someone who is inherently a not nice person.

Another plot point is that one day can make a dynamic difference in your future and life and I am looking forward to my one day and where it leads me!