So I finally caved and made myself a blog. I should have known that this was inevitable, that someone whose profession essentially amounts to reading and writing all the time wouldn't be able to resist the free publication of his random thoughts. I suppose I was hoping that my egotism would be overpowered by my fear of appearing egotistical (ironically), but to quote Val Kilmer, "it appears my hypocrisy knows no bounds."
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm certainly not condemning the idea of a blog. Indeed, I'm rather enamored with it, and I try to regularly read those of my friends. But for whatever reason, I just cringe at the thought of a blog of my own. A scene from Dawn of the Dead (2004) comes to mind, which is rather funny to write, since I had to look up the damn title on IMDB just to make the reference. Already I lay bare my mechanism, it seems. But I digress. As anyone reading this blog will already know by heart, the bite of the zombie essentially begins a transformation that cannot be retarded or reversed; it's only a matter of time until you too will crave the succulent moisture of brain between your incisors as you shamble down the streets of your hometown looking for a wandering innocent to devour--preferably one without a camera crew behind him/her, because those ones tend to be the stars of major motion pictures, and that typically means they're well armed with heavy weapons and horribly written dialogue. And if you happen to turn a corner and see Bruce Campbell, you run the other way, because that man will end your zombie ass pronto.
Anyway, amidst the survivors who make it to a mall in the first third of Dawn of the Dead is a young couple, but surprise, the young pregnant wife has been contaminated by a zombie bite. The husband, because chivalry never picks an opportune time to charge a windmill, decides he can't kill her but instead ties her down to a bed, hidden from the others, even after she fully becomes a zombie. Long story short, she eventually gives birth to a zombie baby, and the husband (by this time completely insane) is holding the kid up like he just pulled the Christ child from the manger. This is what I worry my blog will be: a hideous, flesh-eating infant that only its maniacal father believes is at all worthy of love or even existence.
Be that as it may, it has allowed me to pepper my first ever blog post with some of my favorite things: unnecessarily big words, zombies, overindulgent metaphors, zombie babies, the semicolon, and parenthetical aside. So it can't be all that bad, right?
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