My Mother, the Tree Whisperer

I’m starting to notice, as others of you might be, that this blog’s focus is turning towards crazy things my parents do. Though that wasn’t the original intention of the blog, my parents weren’t originally this weird. I always thought your parents were supposed to seem weirdest to you in your teens, when they drive you nuts about boys and curfew and grades. I actually got along really well with my parents, and I still do. The difference is, I was living at home and too close to the situation to realize just how crazy they really are. Now that I’m living in another state, and my brother is the only one around to keep the parents sane, Mom and Dad have over-indulged in their idiosyncrasies, which I get to hear about over the phone, and you get to read about in my blog.

The crazy parent of the week award goes to Mom, for two specific instances.

The first occurred earlier in the week when I called home to have a nice chat with Mom. My little brother, Alex, answered the phone and actually had a conversation with me, which I found odd because he usually acts as if he doesn’t even have a firm grasp of the English language. Suspicious, I asked him why he hadn’t handed the phone off to Mom
“She told me to talk to you until she’s done with a manicure,” he grumbled.
“Oh, that’s nice,” and then I thought twice. “Wait, is she giving the manicure to herself or to the dog?”
“The dog, of course! She never takes care of herself anymore!”
“She’s actually giving the dog a manicure?” That’s when I heard Mom telling Henry the dog to just sit still and be a good boy so she could make his nails pretty, because he’s a pretty boy, yes he is!
“Yeah, stupid dog,” my brother said through clenched teeth, or at least it sounded like he said it through clenched teeth. That might just be how he talks, we’re not sure. “She’s been talking to the fish more, and yesterday she started talking to a tree.”
To give you a little background info, Alex won a goldfish at a school carnival. He named the fish Steve. Mom quickly changed it to “Baby Fish Mouth” and enjoys feeding it every morning while telling the fish how cute it is and asking it how it likes its breakfast. News of Mom talking to the fish was nothing new to me. The tree thing, however, was a bit shocking.
“What do you mean she was talking to a tree?”
“We had a big storm and it knocked this branch part of the way down, so I had to cut the whole branch off. The whole time, Mom just kept saying ‘It’ll be ok. I’m sorry, tree. I know that hurts. Everything will be ok.’”
“Wow, things are getting pretty bad over there. Why haven’t you been on top of this?”
“There’s nothing I can do,” my brother said, apparently after stuffing a handful of marbles into his mouth. “She’s just crazy.”
Finally, Mom finished giving Henry his mani-pedi, and she took the phone.
“How did Henry like his manicure?” I asked, even though I knew this would send her into a love sonnet about her puppy dog.
“Oh, he’s such a good boy! Aren’t you Henry? Yes you are! Henry, stop. Henry, put the ball down, it’s not play time. Stop biting me! Stop it! Down! Henry! Off!”
“Sounds like obedience school is really working”
“It is! I just have to remind him that I’m the pack leader.” Mom had recently enrolled Henry in dog obedience school that was run by a brutish Russian woman with a Doberman. My Dad was forced to go to “doggy school” and texted me from each class with another comment of just how brutish and just how Russian the instructor was.
“So why were you giving Henry a manicure?” I dared to ask.
“Well, you remember what happened last time I tried to clip his nails?” I did. Mom cut his nail too short and Henry bled for what seemed like days. What’s worse is that Mom came out of the bathroom covered in dog blood, and the bathroom looked like a doggy murder scene. “I got a new tool that shaves down Henry’s nails instead of clipping them.”
“Probably a good idea. Hey, I heard you were talking to a tree.” I felt like a psychiatrist checking in on a past patient.
“Yeah, I was talking to a tree,” Mom said in the same tone she might use if instead of “tree” she said “neighbor”. “Alex was cutting into its trunk and it was sad. I felt really bad for it.”
“Oh, that is said. Poor tree.” I’m probably just as bad for indulging in this, but I did feel a little sorry for the tree.
The rest of our conversation carried on as usual, swapping cat stories, talking about our favorite shows, and sharing the latest weird thing Dad did.

The other reason Mom has received the “crazy parent of the week award” is because of her Facebook experiences, or more accurately, upsets.

I made the mistake of introducing Mom to Facebook while I was in college. It started out innocently enough; she just wanted to see pictures of my old classmates that had been in her Girl Scout troop. Then she wanted to see if I could find her old classmates. Once she got tired of only looking at the thumbnail image of each person, she decided it was time to get her own Facebook account.
She figured most of it out by herself, which I have to give her credit for, but trying to explain the concept of a “wall” is really difficult if you haven’t been using it since your teens.
“Your wall is where people can write public messages to you, and you can do the same on their wall”
“Why would anyone do that” she asked, looking disgusted. “Why would you want your message to be so public? I don’t get it.”
“Well, I guess it’s just for little messages, like ‘hey, how ya doing?’ or ‘take a look at this website.’”
“Well, why not just put that in an email? It’s the same thing, then all your stuff is private.”
I have to admit, she had me stumped. I don’t really know why we use Facebook walls. I gave up on the wall explanation and moved on to filling out her personal information. That became a bit futile because she couldn’t decide what she wanted to put, so I left that for her to do on her own later. I neglected to explain the complicated things, like uploading photos or downloading applications, but again to her credit, she figured the photo thing out on her own and now our family’s European vacation is as public as those wall posts.
A few weeks after helping Mom set up her Facebook, I get a call from her, sounding very frustrated.
“Someone friended me, but I don’t want them to be my friend. Can they see my stuff?”
“No, you have to friend them to allow them to see your profile. Who friended you?”
“It’s my old high school friend’s daughter. Isn’t that weird?”
I agreed. That was really weird.
“So what do I do if I want them to go away?” Mom pressed on.
“Just don’t accept their friend request. Hit ‘ignore’”
“Ok, she’s gone,” she said, sounding relieved. “I just wanted to look at other people’s information and pictures. I didn’t know people would start bugging me!”
Mom found the problem we all eventually come across with Facebook: stalking others means you too will eventually be stalked.
Eventually, Mom got more acclimated with Facebook. After not going on for months, then logging in to realize she had been neglecting wall posts and messages (she felt very bad about all this), she started making it a point to go on to the site several times a week. In doing so, she found more old friends and started to make efforts to reconnect with them. However, the results were not what she had hoped for.
“You won’t believe what happened to me on Facebook today!” she said in a recent phone conversation.
“What happened?”
“Well, I found this old friend of mine and I friended her and she friended me back right away.”
“Well that’s nice…”
“Just hold on,” she cut me off. “I sent her a message, asking her how she’s been the past however many years its been since we’ve talked, and she never replied! That bitch never wrote back, and I wrote the nicest things to her and I was such a good friend to her back when she lived here!”
“Maybe she just doesn’t log onto Facebook that much. You’ve been known to do stuff like that.”
“No, I know she’s on Facebook, because I’ve checked her wall and there’s stuff all over it from the past couple of days!” It seemed Mom had mastered the fine art of Facebook stalking. “She’s always playing that stupid game, and pops up on my news feed for adopting sheep and pigs and shit.” It also seems Mom discovered the annoyance that is Farmville. “And you know what? She had big, blonde, over-teased hair in the 80s, and she still has the exact same hair!” And finally, the true purpose of Facebook—to judge.
“That is pretty rude of her not to respond. She sounds dumb.”
“She IS dumb. Facebook says it’s about “reconnecting”, so if you’re going to be on Facebook, reconnect, damn it!”
I feel like Classmates.com might have been a better social networking choice for Mom.

Mom might be a little crazy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. What else would I have to write about?

I'll Have a "Beer"

So far I haven’t written about my boyfriend, though that’s because up until recently he didn’t do anything embarrassing, distasteful, or hilarious enough to put in this blog. About a week ago, he finally gave me some good blog material, quite possibly at the expense of my respect.

After a rather trying day at work, I text my boyfriend (for the purposes of this blog, let’s call him Red), and ask what he’s doing for dinner. He’s over at a mutual friend’s apartment, and he [jokingly] says they’re all going to dinner at Chuck E. Cheese and that I should join. Starving, and wondering where we were really going, I head over to join them.

I get there and Red is sitting in a chair, awkwardly hunched over. I don’t think anything of it, but after a few minutes of chit-chat, I noticed that what I thought were khaki shorts are something else. Red was wearing the one type of clothing I despise more than any other: camouflage. Immediately, I shout “Are you wearing CAMO?!” and he finally sits up to reveal the camo shorts in all their red neck glory. What this movement also reveals is an Indy 500 sweatshirt, which in his defense, really tied the whole “I’m from southern Indiana” look together. Perplexed by his wardrobe choice, I ask “Who are you hiding from?!” because in my mind, the only reason to wear camo is to blend in with your surroundings. He responds with “I didn’t think I was going to see you today,” so at least he tried to keep the appalling pants from me.

After getting over the shock of seeing my boyfriend dressed like a 13-year-old NASCAR fan, we head out for pizza and beer. What I thought was a joke was actually serious. We were going to Chuck E. Cheese. So after a hard day at work, I was going to blow off some steam with some toddlers and an animatronic rat, accompanied by my boyfriend in camo. Great.

I don’t recall ever going to Chuck E. Cheese as a child, but my mom assures me that I did. I must have blocked it, and I could see why. The robotic animals on stage were more frightening than cuddly, and the music was repetitive and annoying. The games looked boring, and the prizes were even worse. Since it was a Monday night, there were no birthday parties, but there were plenty of teen moms and their brats.

We ordered pizza, breadsticks and beer. We didn’t know what kind of beer, since we weren’t given any choices and they didn’t tell us. We simply ordered “beer”, which required the manager to come out and serve us all, since everyone else who works there is 16. It seemed unnecessary, though, since the “beer” appeared to be O’Doul’s.

So there I sat, in front of a singing rat with my nondescript beer and a slice of fairly gross pizza, next to my charmingly blend-able boyfriend. Never had I ever felt further from adulthood. The only good thing is that we laughed a lot, and Red will never wear those shorts again.

Conversations With My Parents About Celebrities

Mom: Have you seen “Celebrity Fit Club”?
Me: No….
Mom: Well, that Kevin Federline surprisingly seems like a really sweet guy.
Me: Huh?
Mom: I think the media has him pegged wrong. He’s just so laid back, so sweet, never starts fights, and just seems like a really nice guy.
Me: So you’re saying Kevin Federline is a good guy?
Mom: Yeah! He seems really great! Makes you wonder how he ended up with crazy Britney. I mean, she obviously didn’t go crazy because of him.
Me: Obviously…
Mom: I mean, Kevin Federline is probably the nicest person in Celebrity Fit Club. Now, Sebastian Bach is a jerk. He’s always starting fights with people and he’s downright mean.


Mom: I think John Mayer is a jerk.
Me: Oh, because of those things he said about Jessica Simpson?
Mom: Yeah! But especially because he badmouthed Jennifer Aniston. I love Jennifer Aniston. I’ll see anything she’s in. I can’t wait to see “Bounty Hunter.” But John Mayer is just a jerk. I mean, what kind of guy goes around saying that stuff? He’s not even attractive. He’s ugly!


Me: I had a dream that we were at the grocery store and Snoop Dogg was our check out person and you were telling him how much you loved his music.
Mom: I HATE Snoop Dogg! Why would I say I love him?
Me: I don’t know! Do you even know who Snoop Dogg is?
Mom: Yeah, isn’t he the ugly one with all the girlfriends?
Dad: No! Snoops a good guy! He has that show about his family!
Me: Yeah, you’re thinking about Flava Flav.
Dad: FLAVA FLAV!!!
Mom: Well then who is Snoop Dogg?
Me: He’s another rapper. Kind of has a long face, braids…
Mom: I still don’t know who that is, but I don’t think I would like him.
Dad: Snoop’s cool


Dad: Have you seen that “Pretty Wild” show? Those girls are crazy! They make the Kardashians look tame!
(One week later)
Dad: They had the first and second episodes of Pretty Wild one right after the other so I got to watch them both. Those girls are crazy! I figured, if Mom can watch “Biggest Loser”, I can watch stupid E! shows.

Taylor Swift's New Clothes

After watching this year’s Grammy Awards, I am sure of a few things: I will never have Pink’s acrobatic skill or killer body., 3-D is really annoying when you don’t have 3-D glasses, and I absolutely hate Taylor Swift.

I’ve always had a hunch that I hated Taylor Swift, but the Grammies really sealed my distaste for the latest pop/country phenomenon. Some might say, “Why hate on cute, innocent Taylor Swift when there are so many more annoying celebs out there, like Miley Cyrus, Robert Pattinson, and Heidi Montag?” True, those other “stars” are annoying and talentless, but despite their popularity, everyone hates on them. There are plenty of college students who rock out to “Party in the USA” and in the same breath, lambaste Cyrus for her mush-mouth, child porn-inspired performances. It’s the same with the other obnoxious celebrities – everyone acknowledges that they are talentless idiots, but their ironic fame keeps them in the spotlight. However, Taylor Swift’s fame is not ironic. People actually think she’s good. That’s why I need to hate on her, because someone needs to tell the crowd that the emperor has no clothes.

Taylor Swift has a sugary sweet image and cutesy, elfish looks. Her long blonde hair, conservative clothes, and acoustic guitar make her non-threatening to teens and parents alike. Her lyrics relate to the every-day teen, talking about that first date or the boy who doesn’t notice you. She plays her own music, she writes her own songs, and she’s so young, so how is this not talent? Any American Idol hopeful can do this. Sure, it’s talent, but it’s nothing special. What would set Taylor Swift apart from every teenage girl with a crush and a guitar would be maturity.

Granted, she sings about what she knows, but all she knows is that high school is tough and boys are mean. Every time I hear one of her songs on the radio, I think, “Didn’t this song come out a year ago? Oh wait, no, it is actually a different song about a different boy in a different class.” She is too young to be so famous for writing such crappy songs. Also, her voice is not very strong. She would blow me away at karaoke, but when your job is to be a singer, you better be better than good karaoke.

These were all things I knew about Taylor Swift before the Grammies. What really irked me and inspired me to write this blog condemning the blonde bimbo was the fact that she won so many awards and her reaction each time. First of all, how did she beat out so many phenomenal singers for album of the year? I can hardly believe that her collection of songs about teenage boy drama was deeper and better composed than Pink’s divorce compilation or Sasha Fierce’s take on life. However, Taylor Swift seemed even more shocked than I was that she won. Maybe she’s been scarred from the Kanye West incident and feels she needs to show her thank-you’s on her face in case she doesn’t get to say them. In any case, she has proven to be the Meryl Streep of music, ever-humble, ever-obnoxious. Come on, Taylor, like you didn’t know you were going to win something. Quit talking about your parents and what a great year it’s been and quit fanning yourself with your hand and acting speechless. You’ve been practicing your acceptance speech for days in front of the mirror (along with how you’re going to tell that boy in math class that you like him, which will surely lead to a chart-topper).

In a perfect world, Taylor Swift would not be so decorated for her merely decent performances. However, the world is run by tweens, so I can’t wait until next year’s Grammies when the Jonas Brothers and High School Musical cast-offs duke it out for album of the year.

The office ham

Sitcoms and Dilbert comics portray the work place as a hotbed of hilarity and awkward situations. Never having been in a true office environment, but having heard complaints from others about the daily grind, I assumed office shenanigans were just a myth, like unicorns or North Dakota. Now that I have been in the working world for 3 months now, I can say that there doesn’t seem to be so many office hijinks as there are people who make your day fly by with their hilarious quips go on for hours longer with their inane comments.

In the news business, you would expect everyone to be on top of the daily goings-on and to be in touch with the world around them. This is true. You might expect news people to be observant and desperate to change the world. This is occasionally true. You might also suppose that news people are intelligent and articulate. Not always.

One of my fellow production assistants nabs the prize for most frequent butt of everyone’s jokes. The poor fellow wants to be in news so badly and tries so hard that he ends up being his own worst enemy. His writing and comprehension skills are sub-par, and his ability to observe and react to social cues is that of an autistic 10-year-old. He is kind (with occasional bouts of swearing), and determined (with frequent instances of self-importance), but most of all, he is entertaining.

In one of my first experiences with him, he was posting a story to the website about a local event called “Fall-o-ween.” I’m sure you can guess that this is an autumn-based event around Halloween time. However, this cutesy term tripped him up so much, that every 3 minutes, I heard him muttering “Fall-o-ween? What could Fall-o-ween be? That can’t be right. What’s Fall-o-ween?” I tried to explain to him that it’s just a clever title of a silly local event, but he wouldn’t accept that answer, and kept on proclaiming “Fall-o-ween!” around the news room for the entire night.

My favorite instance of him just not getting it involved a very sad story where a young woman was raped after someone broke into her apartment. The silly PA (who we will call Chester from now on…why Chester? Because I want some Cheetos) posted the story to the web with a headline of his own, but was later reprimanded by the executive producer. Distraught and confused, Chester asked me why his headline was changed. His original headline was “Woman raped after forced entry.” Oh my, poor baby Chester did not understand why this was so wrong. I tried to decode the double entendre without going into detail his 5th grade health teacher should have provided him with, but he still did not see the error in the headline.

Occasionally, I will bring in cookies to work to better secure my promotion for the enjoyment of my coworkers. This, without fail, brings out Chester’s ham obsession. After seeing the delighted smiles on our coworkers faces as they try a fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookie, Chester will get jealous and declare that he is bringing a ham into work. “I should bring a ham into work!” shouts Chester. “Everyone loves ham! That would be great! A nice big ham at work!” Chester never mentions any other meat or baked good, but is fixated on ham. Only ham will do for his beloved coworkers! So every day, when he walks into the newsroom in his blindingly white jacket, I wait and hope that he pulls a ham out of his backpack and places it on the empty desk to share with everyone. But alas, months have passed, and no ham! Finally, out of the blue, as if he can read my mind, he tells me that he has no container big enough to fit a ham. As I’m typing away and he’s still trying to figure out what Fall-o-ween is, he looks at me and says ,“I have nothing to carry a ham in.” It was like watching a part of him die. Perhaps it was at that moment that he realized that bringing a ham to work would be ridiculous and difficult, and his dream of eating a freshly prepared ham while working died.

There are other amusing instances of Chester’s follies, like the time he wrote “to make ends meat” or when he asked me what “k-through-12” meant, but those are just a sampling of the daily shenanigans that go on at this office. They should really make a sitcom about it…

Vampires vs Zombies: A look into the paranormal world of popular creatures

DISCLAIMER: Now that I'm out of school, my amount of mental stimulation has dropped significantly. The other day, I began a discussion with some friends about which are better; zombies or vampires. Since I had a couple days off and really feel strongly about vampires (more so the former reason than the latter), I decided to write an essay arguing that vampires are superior mythical creatures to zombies. I should really join a club or get a second job or something....

In this essay, I will discuss the advantages of vampires over zombies based on the following parameters: fear factor, fight, sex appeal, friendship and boyfriend-material-ness, popularity/media, myth/lore, and metaphor.
Vampires and zombies both have a place in paranormal pop culture, but vampires are the more significant of the two, given their lasting popularity among all age groups, their stable, yet adaptable legend, and their prominence as a metaphor for real-world outcasts.

I will begin with a basic discussion of the physical attributes of zombies and vampires. Both undead creatures are feared for their strength and ability to destroy humans. Zombies are humans who have died and risen again to either eat human brains or dance in a Michael Jackson video. They move rather slowly, but are not easily destroyed, since they are already dead. They are very ugly, appear to be smelly, and some have appendages attached by simple needle and thread. Vampires are also humans who have died and risen again, but their sole purpose is to terrorize humans, or as they like to call them, food. Vampires are sultry creatures of the night who are driven by a need for human blood. This leads into my argument that vampires are much scarier than zombies. Though the stench and appearance of zombies is quite terrifying, they are much less frightening in concept than vampires. Zombies are always immediately identifiable as zombies. Vampires, however, maintain their human form, and can possibly even improve upon that form. It is a natural first response to run from a zombie, since they are gross and eating human flesh/dancing to Thriller. Vampires, on the other hand, draw a person in using tricks as simple as seduction or as complex as hypnosis. A person might not even know he/she is dealing with a vampire until it is too late and they are lost in the ecstasy/agony of being completely blood-drained by a ferocious and sexy being. Therefore, vampires are far more frightening, because anyone could be a vampire. Zombies have no disguise, no mind tricks, and no speed. Vampires have all this and more. The only thing to defend yourself against a vampire would be a cross, garlic, silver, or a slayer, none of which are carried around by a normal person. While there are fewer things that can defend you against a zombie, a swift chopping off of its head will do the trick. Fire and joining in the Thriller dance can also aid in thwarting the zombie.

Admittedly, humans are weak, so the real challenge to decide between vamps and zombs would be to place the two in a battle against each other. Spoiler alert: Vampire wins. Although the vampire’s powers of seduction and mind games would not work on the zombie (because the zombie has no brain or lust), vampires are better fighters and have greater endurance than zombies. The vampire’s traditional threat – it’s teeth – would also be no use against the zombie, but vampires have many strengths, including strength. Each creature would have to rip the other’s head off to win. The only advantage the zombie would have is it’s brute strength, while the vampire has supernatural strength and speed, and in some cases, the ability to fly. Vampires are also clever, since they have maintained their human mind. Zombies are like the village idiots of the paranormal world. They have lots of strength and are physically capable, but they have no strategy or cleverness about them. A fight between a vampire and a zombie would end rather quickly. The zombie would lumber towards the vamp as the fanged felon casually lights up a cigarette, biding his time (being immortal, he literally has all the time in the world). When the vampire gets tired of waiting for the ridiculously slow zombie to make his way over, the vamp jumps in the air, landing on the zombie’s back, and rips his head off. The zombie didn’t stand a chance.

Sex appeal might seem like an unfair category to discuss when comparing vampires and zombies, considering that zombies are hideous, but it’s a vampire’s greatest strength, and certainly important when later discussing the media explosion of vampires. Though the original portrayal of Dracula by Bela Lugosi was not attractive in the slightest, vampires have come a long way in the looks department. Zombies have gone in the opposite direction. Frankenstein’s monster was vaguely attractive in a Beauty and the Beast sort of way – you could tell he had a soul and had once been beautiful (you know, before he was dug up and composed of various different people’s body parts). Since then, zombies have become diseased humans with exposed skeletons, blotchy skin, and oozing orifices. Vampires have become sex symbols, gracing magazine covers from Tiger Beat to Vogue. The Vampire Lestat, Angel, Bill Compton, and Edward Cullen are some of the most famous vampire hotties. And it’s not just male vampires that are appearing in lusty supernatural fantasies – Kate Beckinsale in Underworld got hearts racing, even though her character’s heart had stopped beating, and Salma Hayek had a memorable scene involving a bikini and a boa constrictor in From Dusk Til Dawn. A zombie has never been a sex symbol. Perhaps zombie killers could be considered sexy, but part of the appeal would be that they’re destroying the ugly.

Sex-appeal aside, who would make a better friend: zombie or vampire? It might seem contradictory to say that vampires would make better friends, considering that earlier in this essay, it was determined that they are more frightening. However, in personal relationships, vampires would prove to be more mentally stimulating and occasionally loyal. As was previously discussed, zombies have no brains, or at least no brain function. They simply exist to destroy humans. Also, they are extremely slow. Imagine going to the mall with your bff, the zombie. It would take an hour just to make it around the food court. He couldn’t offer you any good opinions on clothing options, and he certainly couldn’t grasp the concept of making fun of emo kids in Hot Topic. Also, he would discourage anyone else from talking to you given his appearance and stench. Hanging out with a zombie would basically be like having a really ugly, decomposing dog with you. A vampire friend might be dangerous, but at least it would be exciting. In some cases, vampires have been able to maintain relationships with humans. For example, Angel had a soul, and was thus a great buddy to Buffy and her pals. In True Blood, Bill Compton swears off human blood and drinks only synthetic blood so that he can be with his human love. In Twilight…actually, let’s not talk about Twilight because I refuse to subscribe to the idea of sparkly vampires. A vampire friend would be like having a bodyguard…a really hot bodyguard. A vampire would know all the great place to go at night. True, you couldn’t share garlic bread, but your vampire could tell you stories about what life was like 100 years ago and you could talk to him about what the sun looks like these days. A person would be very lucky to bag themselves a loyal vampire with a soul, because that would be one great friendship.

Lately, zombies and vampires seem to be battling it out for popularity and prominence in the media. Movies like Zombieland and 28 Days Later proved popular with a college crowd. However, there are far more media outlets that vampires have claimed dominance in. TV shows like True Blood and Buffy the Vampire Slayer have developed cult followings, and in Buffy’s case, this following lasts long after the series is off the air. Books range from Anne Rice’s intricate description of a New Orleans vampire to Stephanie Meyer’s inane, yet tween alluring, Twilight. Dracula is a classic novel that is taught in high schools, and has been adapted into films several times. Zombies provide entertainment and fright, but a zombie could never be a main character, given its lack of verbal communication and it’s grotesque appearance. Vampires maintain the lead in the paranormal popularity contest given their ability to appear human and super-human, making them relatable and unattainable—everything a celebrity should be. Zombies will always be a part of horror films, but vampires have successfully preserved their place in mainstream pop culture throughout the years.

The legends of zombies and vampires have changed over the years, and varies depending on who you ask. Zombies are sometimes humans brought back from the dead, and other times they are humans infected with a virus. Some are fast, some are slow. Vampires have even more variation—some can be thwarted by silver, some are bothered by crosses. Some can fly, some can go out during the light, some need coffins. Numerous variations in myth might seem indecisive and inconsistent to a fault, but it leaves room for experimentation. There’s not much to play around with in zombie lore—in all cases, they cannot relate to humans and thus are strictly scary, killing machines. The myth of vampires can be molded to place the creatures in different settings and situations. Your imagination can run wild and you can make up your own rules, given you stay with the basic tenets that vampires drink blood, are supernatural, and are undead. This mutable legend is part of the reasons vampires have maintained popularity. As culture changes, so do vampires. They can go to high school, fall in love with a waitress, or regain their soul. Having a loose, varying legend is a good thing, because this ensures that the myth will be fresh and adaptable for future generations.

These myths not only serve to create great stories and fear, but they also exist as metaphors. No matter what the scenario, vampires are metaphors for the outcast in society. They are not accepted by the general public and cannot even go out in the daylight. They're persecuted for their unconventional ways. Sometimes, the metaphor is for an evil outcast that must be destroyed, such as in Dracula. In other media texts, vampires are symbols of the misunderstood outcast who does not deserve persecution. In True Blood, for example, vampires “come out of the coffin” and reveal themselves to humans in an attempt to “mainstream”. This is a clear allusion to the gay community and their attempts to be accepted by mainstream culture. Another facet of the outcast metaphor is overt sexuality. Vampires exude sex in a society that censors. Vampires stand for raw human sexuality, thus they are hidden under cloak of night and seen as a threat to stability and safety. Twilight (sorry, I didn’t want to talk about it, but it really fits in with this argument) takes the side of cloaking sexuality and uses the vampire metaphor to stress chastity and self-control. Anne Rice’s vampires see feeding on humans as a sexual outlet, insinuating that they survive on sex itself. However it is used, vampires provide a powerful metaphor from something as simple as representing the high school bad boy to something as complex as symbolizing a puritanical society’s fear of sexual expression. Zombies, save for Frankenstein’s monster, represent nothing. Frankenstein was the apex of zombie culture, and everything after that has been for pure fun and fright. There is nothing wrong with a paranormal myth existing purely for entertainment, but this only furthers the point that vampires are more complex and significant creatures. If anything, zombies represent poor hygiene or, at their most complex, biological warfare, but either of those metaphors is a stretch. Zombies are zombies. Vampires are much more.

From Bela Lugosi to Bill Compton, vampires have grown in legend, sex appeal, and popularity. Their mystique has been consistent, but their meaning and power in the pop culture world has changed. Zombies will also have a place in paranormal culture, but as of now, their popularity seems limited to snarky college students. Vampires span the ages and draw in various demographics. A vampire would kill a zombie and then flash a fang-filled smile that makes your heart skip a beat out of both lust and fear. At the base of this argument is that zombies are predictable while vampires, with their adaptable legend and soulless sex appeal, are dangerous and exciting.

An Enchanting Transition

You may have noticed that I haven’t posted a new blog in awhile (the “you” refers to my mom). Though the last two posts bemoaned the fact that finding a job during the Great Recession is tough, I now have a job, thus the lack of posting. I moved back to South Bend to work at a news station as a production assistant. It’s pretty bottom rung, but I love the work and the atmosphere of the news station, so I’ll just count it as a step toward my future.
Of course, moving to Indiana and starting a job is not without adventure. First, I had to find an apartment. South Bend apartments range from the run-down (recently busted for meth) to the over-priced ($1200/month for a one-bedroom!), but I finally managed to pick one that suited me perfectly. The complex itself has a castle theme, complete with turrets and flags and medieval-looking street lamps (or how I imagine street lamps would look in medieval times if they had electricity). The complex has about 700 apartments divided into sections with quirky little names like The Royal Huntsman’s Court, Coachman’s Trail, and The Royal Vineyards. I managed to score a prime spot in the best building—The Enchanted Forest. That’s right, I live in the Enchanted Forest. Giving my address to strangers at the post office or bank does not come without a smirk or a raised eyebrow. People want to add a “street” or a “road” to the end of the name, but my address is simply “The Enchanted Forest.” Songbirds fly in to dress me each morning and woodland creatures clean my apartment while humming catchy tunes. My mail is delivered on horseback and fairies prepare my meals. Good thing I don’t live on a second floor apartment, or else I would have to grow my hair out in order to have guests over.
In reality, my apartment is very cute and I’ve done a fairly good job of making it homey. I like living alone, except I have to have people over once in a while to bring me back to reality. Too much alone time, and I start losing sense of social graces. Living by myself definitely has it’s perks – watching whatever I want on TV, never having to wear pants, drinking milk straight out of the carton. However, it’s a little strange to laugh out loud by yourself while watching The Office. It’s even stranger when I’ve become so comfortable with it that I start talking to the TV. Every once in a while, I’ll take a step back, re-evaluate, and return to some sense of civility – I’ll put my pants back on, close the bathroom door while showering, stop singing what I’m doing, and open the blinds to give myself encouragement to stay this way. I keep thinking that getting a cat will improve my hermit-ways, but I don’t know if talking to a cat is much better than talking to a television.
To break in my apartment, I’ve had a few get-togethers, and they have been fairly successful. I’m getting better at cooking, though I still manage to make a mess doing the simplest things, like reheating soup on the stove. My first dinner party involved chili and Funfetti cake. The chili turned out great, and all was going well until I cut the cake. As a lifted a piece out of the pan, it pulled away a very noticeable and very long hair from the middle of the cake. Horrified, I pulled it out as quickly as possible, hoping no one would notice. I looked up to see John Minser staring at me, looking partially disgusted, and partially amused at my baking faux pas. I took that piece for myself, and made a mental note to more securely tie my hair back when cooking.
The job is going well, and I’m doing fine living on my own. It’s good to be back in South Bend, where I still have a lot of friends and am familiar with the area. Though I had hoped to end up in a big city (ideally Chicago), this is turning out to be a great transition. Now it’s time for me to go feed the unicorns that live outside my apartment…