(apparently my phone’s zombies don’t jive with the Night Club’s zombies. It’s like The Attack of the Zombies or something. I don’t mean to impose male or female, just tapped a little green zombie and everything else is ‘lost in translation’)
A ‘fun’ subculture in the States is around zombies. Zombie jokes, zombie 5k’s, zombie theme parties in summer, etc…
Holy hell they’re REAL!!
I myself included.
Let’s take my neighbor. “Creating” some “reality” that has to do with me and food. I can smell his Martyr a mile away and constantly challenge his “poor me” stories. I have been able to demonstrate that others perhaps have it the same as him or less , and he’s backed off the same martyr stories with new ones. One is fixable right now if he acts, and I told him don’t come here in a year crying about stolen info on a PC he gave to a neighbor without clearing the hard drive, that’s ON HIM.
He gets it. Seems to like it because he keeps bringing me food. I invited him in to show him what “pots and pans” are. 20+ years + citizenship and insists on being “a foreigner”. I took the opportunity to show him official lab results of food I cannot eat right now.
(“your unit is smaller than mine!” “I told you” <only to illuminate, I could care less the size>)
So he brings a bag of nectarines - one level below “extreme immune reaction.” Now that he’s seen why, I politely decline and refer to the labs.
“You offend me!”
I was in a light mood and just said “I don’t have that power!”
Fast forward to today. Early morning so I was taking a nap. tap tap tap knock knock knock rattle of fingernails on door. Now I’m pissed. Ignored it until “the silence before the storm.” All neighbors got quiet. The appliances got quiet. Even my cat got quiet.
tap tap tap
I exploded open the door and said (loudly, but I usually choke my voice off, this was 3rd chakra stuff) “I value my health. Your emotions are your job. No More Food!”
Going in for the last passive/aggro manipulation, he said in a pathetic whiny voice where imposed guilt may come into play: “but I cooked Armenian food!”
I just repeated myself and let the fire door shut.
Then I obsessed about standing firm on my boundary dammit! But there is a part of me somewhere that couldn’t do what I did. “Cradle of loving kindness” for that infant.
I do hope he sees the world he ‘created’ was just that. I do hope I haven’t feed his Martyr.
And I pray if not, that he doesn’t have a gun.
Guns aren’t the problem. People are.
Or I should say - Zombies are!
In all seriousness! And with a smile!
I think the neighbor will see this, as he’s been seeing other fantasies I’ve been challenging him to pop.
Just gnawing on many things Andrew has taught over the past 10 weeks, for anyone who went along for the ride.
(pretty sure he’ll be MIA for the next however long lol! No clue how he kept alll those concurrent offerings straight! I was in heaven tho, allowed to play in the deep end, wheeee!!)
Zombies tho ppl!
Sharpen that prajna, it’s getting ugly “out there”!