Zombies, the Apocalypse, and Resurrection

The Walking Dead (season 2) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I'm embarrassed to say that I like the terrifying and grotesque zombie apocalypse tv show, The Walking Dead. My teenage sons began watching and with every gasp and groan of disgust I found myself drawn closer to the screen.  Decaying flesh and gunshots to the head in a seemingly endless stream of blood and gore are not my usual thing. What keeps me intrigued are the choices that the survivors make and by survivors, I mean the non-zombies. The obvious analysis for the show's popularity is, in my mind, that we are already living like zombies or fighting zombie tendencies on a daily basis.

In some ways I am a terrible, terrible cliche. Middle aged woman, wife, and mom walking on a treadmill of routine, numbing myself with food and (zombie) tv - longing for something but not really working that hard for anything.  I don't mean this as a debbie downer rant.  Whether it is work or parents or children, at a certain age most of us begin looking outward to what other people need of us, instead of inward to our own still unmet desires and interests.  So when someone started talking to me about The Walking Dead as  insanity, and asked, "Who would really be fighting so hard to live in that type of world?", my unexpected reply was, "We're doing it right now, all the time."

My most recent attempt to stave off zombie cooties occurred over the past month (one of my excuses for not writing here), as I applied to an alternative certification program for urban teachers in high need schools.  More than one person said, or thought, "I never knew you wanted to be a teacher?!"  Either did I really.  It emerged after a conversation where someone asked me if I had ever thought about a different career and if I did, what would I be?  I said teaching, in part, because the presentations and teaching moments I have in my current job, I enjoy quite a bit.  As a test I believe, the universe plopped an advertisement for the alternative program in my email the next day.  Instead of giving in to my routine (zombieness), I ran from the zombies that were chasing me and towards the application, and then the interview, and then towards the preparation for the basic certification tests.  It was the scariest thing I have done in about 16 years (birth of my first son) and it was exhilarating. Unfortunately, this week I found out that I did not pass one of the pesky math exams which means I can not be in the 2013 cohort and begin training. It is disappointing but I am grateful for the experience.  It's like the whole, "it's better to have loved and lost", type of thing.  For the past month I was not a zombie. For the past month I was more than just someone running away from zombies.  In fact, I was listening to my gut and trying new things.  I was running towards a goal. I was walking towards resurrection.