Twilight tonight!

The five of us "silly teenage kids" (Dad's words) are going to see Twilight at midnight tonight.

I can't wait! If there's one thing that can make my non-functional heart hypothetically beat, it's Twilight. Particularly Emmett and Jasper. (Edward's overrated, lol.)

I'll let you all know how it goes! I'm super-excited.

Jack's our adorable little monkey kid.

Seriously, he LOVES to climb trees. A lot. Of course, he's sort of in his own little world, so we have to be out there to make sure he doesn't try to jump off a too-high branch, but gosh, he's such a funny kid. Wakes up first thing in the morning, wolfs down a couple of Pop-Tarts, and then goes and plays make-believe in his head (I can only suppose this is what he does) while he climbs the trees in our neighbor's yard. We have trees, but they're not that sturdy.

Homeschooling is going well. I just got finished with exams, and I'm now off until Monday. Dad's still pushing to get me into "real school." I told him that's alright, it doesn't matter to me and I'd rather spend time with Jack anyway--but once Dad gets started on something, he refuses to give up. The principal doesn't want to "cause a panic" by letting DB kids in. Whatever.

Lately my friends and I have taken to hitting the mall again. And the living ones are eating a lot of burgers. There are three trads--Mark, Lance and Cate--and two zombies, me and Ann. We raise a lot of eyebrows but it's so much fun hanging out with them all.

And, in my progress in returning to more human feelings... I'm still gaining back my sense of touch, and my sense of smell has almost completely come back to me. Yay! 

I'll keep you all posted--I actually have two followers to this blog at the moment--so I thank you both =D That's two more than I expected. 

Yuck.

Jack definitely has a flu. Wonderful, right?

I love playing nurse (usually), but come on, even without the ability to catch whatever it is he's got, I still don't want to be near it.

On the plus side, it's snowing! Not very much, but the world has been covered with a nice thin sheet of snow. Which is excellent because... I'm starting to gain back feeling!

Yep, it's true; I've started to recognize the difference between hot and cold again. Granted, I have to be standing in the snow with my shoes off and with more of it coming down on me to even feel a chill, but WOO-HOO! =D

Dad watches too much football.

At least in my opinion--of course, in my opinion, any football is too much football, unless it's high school football, which is okay.

We watched the Eagles/Bengals game picture-in-picture--with Cats, which Jack and I were singing along with (it was on mute so Dad could listen to the game) much to Dad's annoyance.

All in all, very fun day.

Very unfortunate, though, when I got a call from Denise on my cellphone, who then said "I don't want to talk to a freaking wormburger" and asked to speak to Jack. And I called her something I probably shouldn't have (I covered Jack's ears first) and hung up the phone.

Just love my sisters ;]

My Family

I thought I'd clue you in as to what goes on in my family, just so you all know. 

Before I died, there were eight of us: Dad, Mom, me, Denise, Carrie, Jack, Emily, and Ben. I was 15, Denise was 12, Carrie was 10, Jack was seven, Emily was five, and Ben was four. Jack is a special little kid in that he's autistic, so he requires some extra attention here and there. 

After I died, there was a lot of pressure on my parents. Mom is very religious--she thought I was some sort of "spawn of the devil." She actually sought "help" in the form of a lovely exorcism. However, Daddy put his foot down. His acceptance of my condition caused Mom to file for a divorce. 

The custody battle took longer than I was willing to deal with. They finally realized the truth--that Mom wasn't prepared to take care of Jack--and since I'm not a legal human, there was no talk of who had custody of me. So, in the end, Denise, Carrie, Emily, and Ben went with our mom, and Jack and I got to stay with Dad.

It's confusing, but I like it because no one who went with Mom really likes me anymore. Jack couldn't care less. =]

Jack and I (well, mainly me) are trying to get Dad a girlfriend--after all, it's been over a year. But he's stubborn and insists that we're all he needs. So I do the cooking, the cleaning, etc. I complain, but I secretly love feeling important. Let's face it--there are only to people in the world who need me! =D

It's Sunday.

Back in the day, I would have spent Sunday dressing up in stiff clothes and being dragged to church with my mom and my little sisters and brothers. But now that Mom and Daddy are divorced (all thanks to the Corpsicle Kid), I don't have to go because Dad doesn't really believe in religion. I think he believes in something, but we spend our Sundays out jogging and biking, even now.

I think Dad's the reason I'm alright--the reason I'm not at half-speed now. He's sort of kept my head above the water. I'm glad he got custody of little Jack, too. 

Anyway, maybe youv'e heard of the White Van Conspiracy, which is a name I've given it--some people think these white vans that have been showing up around dead kids' re-deaths are a part of some sort of organization aimed to get rid of us. 

Dad and I see them sometimes, and Jack (he's nine, by the way) mentioned seeing a couple parked outside the elementary school the other day. I hate to admit that whatever they are, they freak me out. Whenever we pass them on the road, I try to hide myself as much as possible.

Any thoughts on these vans? Tommy has some... again, go to mysocalledundeath.com.

I'll just keep throwing that link out there ;]

Tommy Williams

Is, some would say, an activist. True enough, I think.

Some would say he's a pain in the neck. I suppose that's true to others, though I've never personally met him. 

I've read a book, written from the perspective of a certain Phoebe Kendall (who possesses an acerbic wit and an apparently enviable wardrobe), that details events in a Mass. school, all about zombie kids.

It's really too bad I don't live there.

Go to mysocalledundeath.com.

How's "life" going?

Two years ago, something very interesting happened to me while I was jogging down the side of the road. Usually, this wouldn't be a very exciting thing, as I did it every day, but this was a Saturday that would permanently change my life--and cause a debate over whether the word "life" was applicable.

As I was rounding onto Elm Street (isn't it interesting, I was thinking, that so many towns have an Elm Street?), I heard someone call my name. I turned my head to look, and failed to see the car that was swerving out of its lane and into incoming traffic.

However, there was no incoming traffic. There was only me, and that car, operated by a twenty-something woman who had had a seizure at the wheel and lost control of her car, hit me going some fifty miles an hour miles an hour. I died, of course.

But not for long--because, as my friends (the ones who had called my name) will tell you, I opened my eyes an hour later, under a white sheet.

Pardon the dramatics. I just wanted to tell you my story before I begin to blog about my "life." Perhaps you've heard of us--the American kids rising up from the grave (well, usually we aren't buried; it never takes us long to get back up) and going about our business just as any normal people. Some of us function much more slowly than others. Some, like Tommy Williams and especially Karen DeSonne, of internet and book fame, function perfectly normally. You'd barely notice they were zombies.

Me? All I have is a hitch in my step. I still talk as quickly (and as infrequently) as I ever did.

Welcome to my "life."