No Zombies For Old Men (Or Women)

Now that I’m no longer having my soul suctioned out on a daily basis by working for The Man or the MadMen or the Madvertising Industry, I’m realizing the cost of ignoring my integrity. I feel cleaner, like I don’t need to shower everyday. My current gig is in-house at a mostly Latino-run company. I guess, technically, I’m still working for The Man, but he’s got more women and brown skinned people running the show, and less douchey slime balls. (Should I hold back?)

That said, I was up till 4:00 am last night with the awakeness of a double espresso shot of jet fuel. And I don’t think it’s because I watched an entire marathon season of “The Walking Dead,” (ok, maybe a little). Rather, with the advent of integrity, comes more getting-super-real-with-yourself moments and realizing that Denial is starting to overstay his (yes, it’s a man) welcome.

The purpose of denial is self-preservation. If we saw reality clearly every day, we would surely never get out of bed. Let’s face it, denial and fun have a lot of overlap. I love to blanket the harsh edges of life with shopping trips and wine and flakey men who don’t burden you with anything so unromantic as Reality..

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Ok, so back to the The Walking Dead this weekend. Zombies are really fucking scary. Vampires? Meh. Kind of cheezy. Werewolves. Take them to the dog park. But zombies…they have no brain. They don’t think. They just consume.

Zombies also don’t come back to their humanity. And that’s what’s really scary.

Just for today, I want to walk amongst the living.