Just in Case

I like to prepare extensively for things that people say will never happen.  I know most people like to comfort themselves with the idea that a particular disaster could never occur.  And most people don't think about what their life would really be like if their wildest dreams ever came true.  But I am of a different mind.  I like to be prepared for every possibility, no matter how remote.

Here, I'll tell you something embarrassing about me: I am an avid fan of telenovelas.  That's right.  I watch Spanish soap operas.  I like to pretend like there's a point to watching these Spanish soap operas, and there sort of is.  They do keep me in practice with my Spanish-speaking skills.  However, if I am being totally honest, I have to own up to the fact that I actually crave the ridiculous drama of these soap operas.

I mean, come on.  No matter how bad my life gets, at least I don't have to worry about an evil twin coming into town and screwing up my life.  And even when my selective memory rears its ugly head, at least I haven't been beaten half to death so that I now have amnesia.  And I know for a fact that Brother is my real brother.  Telenovelas, by simple comparison, make it startlingly clear just how great it is to only have to deal with normal drama.

Although, I have to say, it would be kind of nice to have the romantic theme music play when you meet the person you're supposed to end up with.  Then, no matter how wrong things go in the middle, you know you get a happy ending with lots of kisses and probably like a quadruple wedding.

Like most obsessions, my intimacy with telenovelas leaks out into my everyday life.  When I find myself angry or sad, without much of an outlet, I tend to talk out loud to myself in Spanish.  This penchant for having an inner monologue out loud is an age-old tool -- in addition to telenovelas, even Shakespeare had his characters recite asides!  My life is full of Hispanic asides.

Even better, for Christmas a few years ago, I wrote a synopsis for a telenovela based on BrownFriend's first year of college, which I try to update as things progress.  BrownFriend has the unfortunate quality of attracting awkwardness.  It's never her fault, but she's so gorgeous and so genuinely good that she seems to be constantly surrounded by male hopefuls.  Many times, these hopefuls swarm at the same moment, creating all kinds of fun drama for BrownFriend.  Well, it's not exactly fun for BrownFriend, but I always get a kick out of it.  These ridiculous moments are perfect telenovela material.  BrownFriend and I are hoping that we can eventually get our show optioned to appear on Univision.

The past few paragraphs were the scenic route leading to this drop-off view: I am totally ready to be scouted for a role in an Univision telenovela.  In an ideal world, I would be the leading lady, an American or European immigrant to a Spanish-speaking country (probably Mexico, since it's Univision).  And in a very ideal world, I would be acting opposite Jose Luis Resendez, who is by far my favorite soap star.

If you think I'm kidding, take the following into consideration.  In preparation for this eventual role, I have practiced speaking Spanish with several different accents, both subtle and outlandish: American (including Yankee, Midwest, and Southern), British, French, and German.  I have even practiced speaking Spanish with that stupid Castellano lisp they use in Spain.  And I've practiced the Puerto-Rican accent, where they cut most of their words in half and talk faster than a speeding bullet (Super-Tongues!).  And the Argentinian 'j' sounds, too.

What?  Am I getting too detailed?  Sorry about that...

Anyway, you can laugh, if you'd like.  I told you at the beginning of the post that I prepare for unlikely events.  But if, by some miracle, I get the opportunity, I'll be quite the interesting persona.  They rarely choose non-Hispanic actors for their telenovelas, even when the character in question is supposed to be American.  So we'll see who's laughing when I'm being interviewed on Don Fransisco Presenta after my starring role in the most-watched telenovela of the season!

Here's something else that's slightly embarrassing: Movies have always been a somewhat problematic addiction of mine.  I love movies.  I could watch movies back to back all day long for weeks on end, if my schedule and finances would permit it.  When I moved into my apartment, I was thrilled, because the two large bookshelves I had bought would finally allow me to display all my movies with room to spare (something that hadn't been achieved since my freshman year of college).

I tell you that to tell you this: I have seen several movies of the sci-fi, overcoming-the-government/machines/aliens type movies.  There are some quality films in that genre, like V for Vendetta, Matrix, iRobot, Minority Report, Independence Day, Eagle Eye, Mars Attacks!, etc.  However, these movies have one thing in common... The Big Brother Factor.

For those of you unfamiliar with the reference, I do not blame you.  1984 is a terrible book, in which (spoiler alert!) the bad guy wins.  The bad guy should never, ever win.

But I shouldn't say it's a terrible book, because as far as sci-fi stories go, it's actually very compelling.  The creepiest part about it is the villain of the piece.  In this futuristic world, Big Brother is everywhere.  Big Brother is supposed to be your protector.  He can watch you through your television screen because he wants to keep you safe, not because he's a creeper.  He's in your vehicle, your paintings, your workplace, the pubs and bars, the sportsplexes, everywhere!  Never doubt it -- Big Brother is watching you.

The Big Brother Factor has been a huge sci-fi storyline staple ever since.  And for good reason!  How do you fight something that is everywhere, controlling everything?  And how do you fight the ideologies that keep it in power?  It's the perfect antagonist.  And the best thing about it is how plausible it is.

Of course, with my overactive imagination, I take these movies and stories far too seriously.  What if Big Brother ever did come into existence?  We wouldn't call it that, of course.  It would be called something seemingly professional and seemingly harmless, like the Federal Liability & Intelligence Electronic System (FLIES on the wall), when actually a more accurate name would be the Government Stalker of Death.

It isn't completely out in left field, especially as the fight against domestic terrorism intensifies.  Justifications abound, with my personal favorite being, "If you haven't done anything wrong, there's no reason to be upset about invasions of privacy."  Yeah.  Did you notice the word 'invasions' in there?  Because I did.  And 'invasions' is rarely a word that gives me warm-fuzzies.  I mean, I wouldn't ever put it on a greeting card, if you catch my drift.  But maybe that's just me.

I tell you that to tell you this: I feel strongly that I should be prepared for the inevitability of a real-life Big Brother.  I work diligently to improve upon the part of my brain that I feel will be of most use to me during this eventuality: my propensity for languages.  If it ever comes down to it, I could flee to Central or South America (excepting Brazil), or Spain.  If those countries were out of the question, I could travel to any of the French-speaking countries.  And if even those countries couldn't be considered, I could probably survive on the Russian I know.

However, considering how much I hate change, and how I tend to revert to Meh Mode so often, my guess is that I won't be moving until my life is actively threatened.  Therefore, in preparation for my time under a Big Brother regime, I have been practicing codes.  These codes include a number code and a symbol code of my own devising, in addition to the ability to write in Runes.  I am learning morse code, and diagram codes, and I am becoming extremely skilled with anagrams.

But perhaps the most important thing I am practicing is a language I invented with BlueFriend in seventh grade.  BlueFriend and I invented this language in order to pass notes without fear. With this code, no teacher was able to read what we confided to each other on paper.

We might be a little out of practice, but BlueFriend and I still use this language today.  We later taught it to PurpleFriend, although she has, for the most part, forgotten it.  I even attempted to teach it to GreenFriend while we were on Wilderness Trek in our high school days.  GreenFriend has a less-than-fabulous memory, by her own admission, so she, too, has forgotten the language.

The language is called TAC, and I believe firmly that, when spoken using several phonetic rules I have invented (somewhat arbitrarily), it will be difficult to crack, even though when written, it would be exceedingly simple to decipher.  I practice speaking TAC every day, and I am very nearly fluent.  I plan to teach it to my loved ones in the event that my Big Brother fears become real.  I dare Big Brother to learn TAC.

Now, here's the big one: A couple of months ago, I woke up from a vivid dream, thoroughly creeped out.  All night long, I had wrestled with one very long dream, taking place during the Zombie Apocalypse.

This was no normal Zombie Apocalypse dream (those are normal, right?), in that the undead weren't as inhibited as they are when commonly portrayed in movies and books.  The reanimated corpses in my dream could sense and seek out any human who had consumed sugar.  They were as physically able as ever, and although they were significantly diminished in their mental capacities, they still had the ability to set traps.

Accompanying me in my dream were PurpleFriend, who features prominently in several of my dreams simply because she is my other half, and FoxyFriend, who featured in this dream specifically, because she and I have had a plan for exactly this type of situation for years.

When we were in high school, PurpleFriend, FoxyFriend, and I were a dynamic lunch-eating trio.  We all shared a lunch period, we all hated the cafeteria, and we were all quirky, witty characters.  Because of these things, we had several memorable conversations.  For example, in one conversation regarding krakens and underwater castles, this phrase was uttered, and was repeated for years to come: "Well, slap my seahorse and paint a monkey green!"

But our conversations did/do not always center around silly turns of phrase.  A perfect example of our more enlightened conversations occurred the day that FoxyFriend and I formed the Zombie Apocalypse Protection Unit (ZAP).  Along with Father Bobo, who lived on the roof of the school, she and I would use our high school building as a protective fortress.

Studies have shown that the best place to be during a Zombie Uprising is a complex building, like a mall.  The school is the perfect strategic location in the event of an invasion of the rising dead (there's that word 'invasion' again, still as unpleasant as ever).  Although members of ZAP would be familiar with the layout, any mentally deficient zombie would have trouble with the school's grid of maze-like hallways, the number of lockable doors, and the multiple floor levels connected by staircases.  (There is one elevator, but it would be easily dispatched).

Even in my dream, when faced with the mortal peril of having our flesh eaten mercilessly by hypoglycemic zombies, FoxyFriend, PurpleFriend and I remained completely unphased.  We even took two little girls under our protection.  Our first hide-out was the roof of an apartment building, our second a belfry, both very effective.  And you'll be pleased to know that, with the help of The Rock, we all made it out alive.

So you see, I am fully prepared for the Zombie Apocalypse.  You will find I am generous with my knowledge, and vigilant in my defense training.  So when those Inferi come moaning at your door, just remember that the ZAP Unit is waiting for you to join the resistance.