RSS Feeds: Surviving the Apocalypse
You know that cliché of an insane person, perched on the side of some busy road, screaming complete and utter garbage? You see how everyone tries to avoid his glance as he spews out the apocalypse? Can you see the crazed look, hear the hoarse voice, see the spit goblets soaring through the sky as he tries (without succeeding) to get anyone to back him up, anybody to even notice he is there? He likes to think he is the devil's messenger, the prophet of the apocalypse, and you like to think he's just hopped up on acid. That person is me. I'm not saying I'm out ranting in the streets, I'm just saying that in my head there is my very own insane person, spouting doom.
Take any old day for an example. I'll be around town. Where? It doesn't matter. I'll be at the supermarket, out for a stroll, falling asleep in school. While everybody else is observing normality, where other people are just experiencing the same old monotony, in my head I'm in another world. I'm constantly drawing up fantastic scenarios in my head, crazy visions of doom and apocalypse and figuring out ways to survive them. Crazy, eh? It's sort of like survival of the fittest in the loosest sense. Survival of the paranoid, more like it. Taking a stroll down some sunlit avenue, you might be enjoying the smells and sights of summer. I'm envisioning a torrent of water, cascading down that very same path and destroying everything in its way. What do I do? Where do I run to? That looks like a sturdy Oak. Are there handles I can reach on the tree? Yes. Would it be able to take the pressure of all this water? Sure, I guess. Water? What water? It's the middle of summer. There is no flood. My mind will snap back into reality. Temporarily, that is.
I'll be shopping, at say, Rona. While you are looking at ideas on sprucing up your backyard, browsing through endless shelves of pots, fertilizer and other knick knacks, I'm seeing… an Earth shattering tremor. An unbelievably large tremor, and it's going to bring down this whole building on top of us in about, say, 10 seconds. Where do I go? Where can I escape to? Is there enough time to get outside before the whole weight of the roof drops down on top of me? Definitely not. I look up at the ceiling. Steel girders crisscross over the not-as-thick sheeting that covers the roof. I groan. Those girders look awfully heavy. A quick glance around reveals a bathtub. In my mind, I run over. Looks solid enough, but is it porcelain? Will it simply shatter? No it's not. Thank god for your awful products, Rona. If I overturn that and hide under it, I might just survive (after all, the massive aisle shelves will take most of the weight). And then I notice the odd look on some woman's face, shooting me dirty glances because I'm making destructive noises and looking over a bathtub.
See, I need an output for all of these ideas, all this nonsense that plagues my mind. So I made a blog. Maybe, while I'm sketching and typing up every little idea that comes into my mind, I can actually go out and not see the apocalypse everywhere, not see chances of survival in any scenario. Then again, it might just enhance it. You can follow my ideas at "Surviving the Apocalypse".
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