A Personal Reflection

Life would be so much simpler if I were a zombie. My mind, perhaps for the first time since infancy, would be clear of the everyday clutter that inevitably collects there. Problems at work, annoyances with family and friends would most definitely fade to nothing, if only the z-virus would find its way to me. There would be nothing left of the person I am now. I can’t imagine a more peaceful and utopic existence than having this one track mind.

If I were a zombie, my greatest, in fact my only, ambition would be a nice, juicy brain. And when that goal was achieved? I wouldn’t compare the next brain to the last. There would be no critique given to which had a finer texture, or a richer, more savoury flavour. I would eat, sincerely smack my lips in satisfaction regardless of the relative quality... and because eating brains would be the one thing I existed for, everything would instantaneously reset itself when the hunger took over. Once again, my world would have a singular purpose and I would be driven to excellence because of it. Yes, I would be the best zombie, I could be!

But what, you ask, of politics and governing bodies? How would I be able to define myself without these affiliations and associations? Simple. I wouldn’t. I would wander freely, heedless of borders and the people chosen to protect them. Perhaps not completely unmindful, though. After all, border guards and military personnel all possess the one thing I will desire: cerebrum. Further, as I would not be endowed with any fear of their weaponry or ideals, they would serve as easy marks, gathered together against me, their grey matter ripe for the picking.

The question still remains of whether I would foster any conscience against tearing people limb from limb, all for the sole purpose of devouring the delectable morsels that lay hidden beneath skin and bone. Regret would mean that I have the capacity to feel, to experience the world on an emotional level. And while, at first consideration, it appears sentiments of any kind are beyond the understanding of the zombie population, I must disagree. The ability to supersede emotion and carry on with only necessity as a guide could be, in fact has been, argued to be the ultimate result of enlightenment. Have not religions, the world over, extolled the virtues of giving up oneself to a higher calling? Isn’t this surrendering of one’s ego, in essence, what would happen with zombification? There would be no feelings of loss over those things we can no longer have (and to have, I mean control). No agonizing over decisions. No thought process at all, in fact. Spirituality and religion would have no place, hold no value. My soul would no longer be in any danger, having transcended completely, to a different plane, altogether: one beyond that of piety and doctrine; my only veneration being the search and ultimate consumption of a warm, toothsome brain.

Westbound

I packed a bag this morning and climbed into my little green Ford Focus. I was heading West. Towards BC and towards friend-Shannon and friend-Zachary. The visiting is really secondary. The actual pull for this trip was the 12 hours I would have alone in the car with only my thoughts and imagination to keep me company. Then multiply it by two since I planned on coming home less than two days after I arrive. If you include pee breaks, that works out to about 28 hours of solitude. Solitude and a whole lot of singing along with the stereo.


Now when I have even a few moments to myself, my imagination wants to take flight. Today, it had free reign.



Somewhere between Edson and Hinton, the landscape changed ever so slightly as I was looking at it... roads disappeared, people and cars vanished and in the stead, dinosaurs roamed. Not just lumbering beasts, like Brontosaurus or fierce theropods like Albertosaurus, but even Procomsognathus. I could feel the ground shake beneath me as the large sauropods made their way past me.


I was brought back to this world by a worrisome buzzing in my car (terrified it was a bee, I tried to remain calm and not drive my car off the road, taking out whomever was unlucky enough to be in the car behind me). I soon realized the noise was nothing more than the seat belt rubbing against the casing and I was reminded of a Gary Lawson Far Side cartoon about a giant bumble bee sitting calmly in the back of a woman's car.