I asked if Nicole wanted to write anything to her parents, or to her boyfriend, in case they might read this blog. But she said that no one would read it. So then I told her that someone in the future might read it, that it might be a useful record for them. She told me it was a stupid idea. I think her mind is mostly occupied with thoughts of her boyfriend, anyway. That's all she's been talking about for the past two days. I found out that her boyfriend, Steven, was supposed to be let out of jail the day of the invasion, the 6th. What she keeps going on about is how the jail is literally just across the freeway and how he still never made it home -- not even after twenty-one days. She thinks his bus or taxi got attacked.
She also thinks Steven is still alive.
The past two days with Nicole have been odd. It's always weird to go from a period of isolation to a period of social interaction. Especially when most of the time I haven't felt comfortable in her apartment, now that she's home, although I don't think she minds the company. We talk about more than her lost boyfriend, too. I found out she was from Arizona, originally, and moved to Santa Rosa about two years before. "Following the popular kids," she explained. I told her about where I'd come from. We talked about our summers before the invasion started. She said she was planning on going to Hawaii with Steven on September 3rd (she showed me their plane tickets, too) and then got upset about that and cried for a while.
I haven't cried once during this experience. Is that bad?
Enough times goes by and you stop hoping for rescue, you stop thinking everything will work itself out. But then you reach a point where you start to move forward along this new path. There's no way the world can recover from this. No way. So, knowing that, I think I've started to accept that. For now I'm taking care of me and mine until some form of structured reality comes back to this society. Because right now there are no rules. There are no laws. Nicole hasn't realized that, yet, as she's been using the internet to send out e-mails to people who won't respond, trying to call people on a phone with no signal, and otherwise totally ignoring the fact that the existence we knew before will never come back.
There is no more television. The power went out for three hours during the hottest part of yesterday. The food supplies are taking a hit, but persisting. I still think we've got enough food for a month's time, minimum, and that's with two people. The zombies who saw us from below made it to the top of the stairs and then stumbled back down, I guess, because I haven't seen or heard them since Nicole arrived. Otherwise there has been little going on. Nicole's been smoking a lot of cigarettes and that makes me think about the pot I left in my apartment -- and I'm almost tempted to go back for it.
Before she went to bed, Nicole looked at me and said, "I'm going to go look for him tomorrow. I can't keep waiting. Every day I wait... I need to find him, even if he's dead." Although she got choked up on "dead," I know that she meant it. I don't want to go with her. I don't think it's a good idea at all. But there's also no way I'll let her go by herself. She set an alarm clock for 5:00, just before sunrise, and she wants to pack some food and supplies and leave early.
You'll know why I don't post anything after this -- worst case scenario.
She also thinks Steven is still alive.
The past two days with Nicole have been odd. It's always weird to go from a period of isolation to a period of social interaction. Especially when most of the time I haven't felt comfortable in her apartment, now that she's home, although I don't think she minds the company. We talk about more than her lost boyfriend, too. I found out she was from Arizona, originally, and moved to Santa Rosa about two years before. "Following the popular kids," she explained. I told her about where I'd come from. We talked about our summers before the invasion started. She said she was planning on going to Hawaii with Steven on September 3rd (she showed me their plane tickets, too) and then got upset about that and cried for a while.
I haven't cried once during this experience. Is that bad?
Enough times goes by and you stop hoping for rescue, you stop thinking everything will work itself out. But then you reach a point where you start to move forward along this new path. There's no way the world can recover from this. No way. So, knowing that, I think I've started to accept that. For now I'm taking care of me and mine until some form of structured reality comes back to this society. Because right now there are no rules. There are no laws. Nicole hasn't realized that, yet, as she's been using the internet to send out e-mails to people who won't respond, trying to call people on a phone with no signal, and otherwise totally ignoring the fact that the existence we knew before will never come back.
There is no more television. The power went out for three hours during the hottest part of yesterday. The food supplies are taking a hit, but persisting. I still think we've got enough food for a month's time, minimum, and that's with two people. The zombies who saw us from below made it to the top of the stairs and then stumbled back down, I guess, because I haven't seen or heard them since Nicole arrived. Otherwise there has been little going on. Nicole's been smoking a lot of cigarettes and that makes me think about the pot I left in my apartment -- and I'm almost tempted to go back for it.
Before she went to bed, Nicole looked at me and said, "I'm going to go look for him tomorrow. I can't keep waiting. Every day I wait... I need to find him, even if he's dead." Although she got choked up on "dead," I know that she meant it. I don't want to go with her. I don't think it's a good idea at all. But there's also no way I'll let her go by herself. She set an alarm clock for 5:00, just before sunrise, and she wants to pack some food and supplies and leave early.
You'll know why I don't post anything after this -- worst case scenario.
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