(apparently my phoneâs zombies donât jive with the Night Clubâs zombies. Itâs like The Attack of the Zombies or something. I donât mean to impose male or female, just tapped a little green zombie and everything else is âlost in translationâ)
A âfunâ subculture in the States is around zombies. Zombie jokes, zombie 5kâs, zombie theme parties in summer, etcâŚ
Holy hell theyâre REAL!!
I myself included.
Letâs take my neighbor. âCreatingâ some ârealityâ that has to do with me and food. I can smell his Martyr a mile away and constantly challenge his âpoor meâ stories. I have been able to demonstrate that others perhaps have it the same as him or less , and heâs backed off the same martyr stories with new ones. One is fixable right now if he acts, and I told him donât come here in a year crying about stolen info on a PC he gave to a neighbor without clearing the hard drive, thatâs ON HIM.
He gets it. Seems to like it because he keeps bringing me food. I invited him in to show him what âpots and pansâ are. 20+ years + citizenship and insists on being âa foreignerâ. I took the opportunity to show him official lab results of food I cannot eat right now.
(âyour unit is smaller than mine!â âI told youâ <only to illuminate, I could care less the size>)
So he brings a bag of nectarines - one level below âextreme immune reaction.â Now that heâs seen why, I politely decline and refer to the labs.
âYou offend me!â
I was in a light mood and just said âI donât have that power!â
Fast forward to today. Early morning so I was taking a nap. tap tap tap knock knock knock rattle of fingernails on door. Now Iâm pissed. Ignored it until âthe silence before the storm.â 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) âI value my health. Your emotions are your job. No More Food!â
Going in for the last passive/aggro manipulation, he said in a pathetic whiny voice where imposed guilt may come into play: âbut I cooked Armenian food!â
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 couldnât do what I did. âCradle of loving kindnessâ for that infant.
I do hope he sees the world he âcreatedâ was just that. I do hope I havenât feed his Martyr.
And I pray if not, that he doesnât have a gun.
Guns arenât 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 heâs been seeing other fantasies Iâve 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 heâll 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, itâs getting ugly âout thereâ!