Obsessing over the video game Left4Dead is a little TOO much zombie.

But I can't help myself.

You know, since the next few days are zombie days, I figured these fit the occasion pretty well:

Zombies Of Justice!

Yes. A Zombie Invasion in San Fran, my friends. Look below.

And, the zombies of the night. These are pretty sweet.

Have fun. And don't take life too seriously. In a couple of years, you may be eaten by a flesh-eating canibal, who died, but still walks this earth.

Grab a kitchen knife. Tie your shoes. Time to save the universe.

And we're moving quickly.

That's right. Next question. One day after the last question.

Am I getting pushy or what?

But hey, this is my time, my questions, your answers, it's fun, just shut up and go with it. The last one was serious and meaningful, I figured I'd make this one just...a question.

A simple question that's fun to answer. Very fun to read the answers.

And so I ask you, my friends, or friend, due to the fact that I only REALLY have two followers, For the impending zombie apocalypse, what will be your weapon of choice and why?

Honestly, I'm choosing two. The bow and arrow and the sword. Come on. The bow and arrow is just my thing. I crave it. I need it. I'd probably suck at it, but I think I'd look pretty kick-ass. And the sword...I've read many books, young grasshopper. I believe that I could master it eventually. At least chop some zombie heads off.

You know how I am with zombies.

What weapon will you use to fight for your life?

And the question is answered: What Is Art?

Megan: Anything created from the soul.

Ian: Art is life, emotion, and passion for the things you love. It makes you proud of yourself to see what you have done and nobody can tell you otherwise.

Aid: Anything you want it to be.

Alexis: The way you express yourself. How you see the world in your perspective, and how you feel towards something or someone.

Unknown person from ChaCha: Paper pricking is a fancy name for poking holes in paper. Paper peircing is another term used in art for poking holes. ChaCha! [I REALLY HATE THEM.]

Emmi: Art is a creative way of expressing your feelings, and art is whatever you think it is.

Bob: Art is colors that people try to express themselves with. I don't know, I hate art.

Rayanna: I think art is anything you put your heart into, pretty much. Painting, drawing, music, sculpting, etc.

Maddy: Art is a way of showing how a person is feeling, it's dance, painting, drawing, or anything that makes you feel happy as a person.

Drew: Art is a way to express yourself.

Riana: A way to express yourself and to be creative.

Christian: Art is the creativity in human beings. Music is a form of art. As well as drawing and sculpting. Art can be found anywhere.

Libby: Kind of a way to express your feelings in a creative way.

Matt: Let's see, art is the products of human creativity.

Lily: Something that expresses people's feelings.

Cheyenne: I think art is an artist way of expressing himself or herself and that all art is beautiful. And that without art, life would be boring. So in a way you could say that we would need art to live.

Trevor: Something that makes you feel emotional.

And if you missed it in the comment, here's Firespark: Art is your soul bleeding out, bursting forth, or shimmering from you, for the world to see, or for you alone to examine. It's a physical representation of what we believe or feel or want or fear. Some say that all art already exists; that we only stumble upon it, the stories or pictures or movements, and it is up to us to interpret what we've found, to bring it into this physical realm so that it can be shared and experienced together. Some say that only then, when we take up the charge to interpret for the world, do we become artists. I don't know. But I believe that art can be both personal and outside of ourselves as well. We feel something or learn something, and we want to share. But I think that sometimes we also feel what others feel, and by becoming artists, we become a voice for the world, for all of existence. Art is the elusive and intangible made real.

Art

I looked up 'art' on youtube. Watch this video. This is art.

I looked up 'Inspiring graffiti' on google images.

"When living is a thing money can buy The rich shall live & The poor shall die."

"We're all the punchline in a joke that they won't let us in on."

And my favorite. "Only dead fish swim with the stream."

THEN.

I looked up 'Inspiring art.'

Someone said, "Finally some meaningful graffiti."

Honestly, I think most of it is meaningful. And all of it is powerful.

I once read that art is anything you can get away with.

I think art is something, anything, that you express yourself through.

Something that is showing meaning.

When I see a painting of a bowl of fruit, I get a little dissapointed. You have the ability. You obviously like art, you want it, you need it, so let's make it say something. I can't help but think that the bowl of fruit has some hidden message, some power in the colors, or the reason they made that picture.

I'll ask someone what it is, they'll say it's just a bowl of fruit.

I'll tell them there is no such thing as just a bowl of fruit.

Art is anything you can get away with. Art comes from inside, comes from the depths of your soul, and it has a message, it has meaning.

Art is you.

So, since people right now don't have many things that aren't heard, on the spot, I'll give them a topic.

What is art?

Kayla.

We drove and drove for miles, for days and weeks on end. Running from “Them”, from the nameless, faceless Them that tracked our every move and were closing in all the time. All those years ago, travelling with her up and down the map, wondering how she had the money to keep buying gas, and what would happen to us if the car broke down. We stayed in shelter after shelter, vagabonds, gypsies under duress. I never saw Them, and neither did anyone else. But she knew They were there. So we fled for our lives, crossing state lines, she wondering if they were close now, if her daughter’s young, ignorant slip-up in a car that was clearly bugged, “Look, mom! Welcome to Texas!” had tipped Them off; me wondering if anyone in the world had any idea where I was. Of course, no one did. There was no cavalry coming to rescue me. I’d have to do that myself, somehow. But I couldn’t leave her. She needed me. There was no one else.

I’m grown now, living my own life, but I sometimes wonder if I’ll be in that car forever.

Another Daydream.

She'd put up a sign.

It would say "Scream."

She'd put it up above the drinking fountain at school.

No one would know she's the one who put it up.

People would see it.

Most would think it was lame, wrong, why would you scream?

But it got to at least one person. One person got it.

He stood there, staring at the sign, knowing now that he wasn't the only one who wanted so badly to just stop and sit and cry. And scream.

He'd see her later in the week, sitting by the same water fountain she had put the sign up above.

"Scream." had been torn down by some brats.

The girl was crying because, even though she was the one who sent the message, she still couldn't open up her mouth and scream, or do anything , really.

He sat down next to her, next to the fountain.

And cried.

And they both did for a while then, no one stopping, no one laughing, no one pointing, but people passing. The only respect they got from people was being invisible.

He knew. No one knows how, but he knew she put the sign up the moment he sat next to her.

And they didn't let each other be alone until the final bell rang, and they could go their seperate ways, not speaking a word, not turning back, but everyday visiting each other at the same place. So they could get out at least a little bit of their screams.

No one can be trusted completely.

You "douche-sucking" bastard homo-sapien, who doesn't even take anything seriously, not even pain.

"She said she can't hang out, and it's like she's not interested in me anymore," he said.

"Just because she can't hang out doesn't mean anything," I tell him.

He honestly sounded hurt.

"Besides," I continue. "You don't really really like her. It's not like you're serious about it."

"It's highschool," he said simply.

"And that's your excuse," I told him with disgust, getting up and walking out of the room.

AID.

[First off, let's pretend this is Friday. Secondly, I don't think people are getting the point. What they're writing is supposed to be "Things Not Heard". What some people are giving me is just a bunch of things that I hear all the time. All but one. Man.]

My neighbors are so annoying! The other night, one broke his arm by banging on a door. His little brothers locked him out and when he got in, he started beating them up. Another neighbor called the police. A lot goes on down there, like parties and music blasts. One time we were playing capture the flag, and we were yelling. They came out and yelled, "Shut up, I'm tryin' to drink!" WOW. They are just stupid. We have called the cops, like, 10 times. They need to give it yp and just get arrested! People can hear them that are six houses down.

[Including me. She's not over-exaggerating. They're horrible. And they've stolen my brother's bikes. Anyway, there you go. That's ALL OF MY FRIENDS that I can get a hold of. The challenge is on, humanity.]

Villains. Now, here comes my conflict. What if a villain isn't REALLY a villain? Yes, of course the person broke the law. "The law is the law." But does that mean he's horrible, that he did it out of evil, that he should be punished? Most of the time, I don't think it does. Some things, yes. Horrible, HORRIBLE things that you KNOW the person did, yes. But, here's an example. An old man has a big family. Local pharmacy. Needs medicine for his little granddaughter. No money. Takes it. Gets caught. No sympathy. Papers assume, people's heads judge for the wrong reasons. They all see the wrong things, and no one reveals the right. I guess that man should do his time. Fair is fair. But the way people describe that man disgusts me. The way people react, the way they treat. Another example. Someone is a suspect for murder. The person that died was the suspects friend, even though most people didn't know it. All of the clues lead to that suspect. He didn't do it. He honestly didn't do it. And then. All over the News, the radio, the public. People hear things and start saying he's the one. Everyone hates him. The local station even says that it was him. He goes to court. Gets a trial. Innocent. Eventually word dies down, but no one looks at him the same, because they can't get the thought out of their little assuming heads that he's a murderer. And he lives in misery for a while, adding to the sorrow from the death of his friend. Isn't it all bull shit. Doesn't it all suck when you're called a horrible person, when in reality, you were trying to do something good.