Here is the article I wrote about the event I recently attended, TEDxRochester. It received more editing than usual so I actually see a difference from what I originally wrote. This resulted in a few grammar and factual errors that, while not huge, I’m not too happy about. However, it’s still a good read and I really enjoyed the event.

http://reportermag.com/article/tedxrochester

The Athletics and Events Center will paly a significant role in the campus community at Ithaca College, serving multiple purposes for multiple different teams. It will not be the first of its kind in the Empire 8 however. Here’s a look at the current athletic facilities used by the Bombers’ conference rivals.

Alfred University

• Home to: Alfred Saxons
• Merrill Field; Football, Lacrosse, Soccer, Intermural Sports
• McLane Center; Basketball, Volleyball, Swimming and Diving
• Jericho Hill Fields; Cross Country
• Tucker Field; Practice field for Football, Soccer and Lacrosse

Alfred has its own tennis courts and the Bromeley-Daggett Equestrian Center. For its men’s and women’s alpine skiing teams, there is the Swain Ski and Snowboard Center.

Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT)

• Home to: RIT Tigers
• Clark Gymnasium; Basketball, Wrestling
• Frank Ritter Memorial Ice Arena; Ice Hockey
• Judson Pool; Swimming and Diving

The Gordon Field House and Activities Center has a 60,000 square foot field and event venue, an aquatics center and a 16,00 square foot fitness center. The facility was an alternate site for the 2004 Presidential debates and has hosted the Monroe County Special Olympics, Empire State Games and the Deaf Olympics. RIT also has its own separate fields for baseball, softball, and track and field.

Hartwick College

• Home to: Hartwick Hawks
• Wright Stadium; Softball, Baseball
• Elmore Field; Soccer
• Binder Hall; Basketball, Volleyball, Water Polo, Swimming and Diving

You can take a virtual tour of Hartwick’s updated athletic facilities here.

Nazareth College

• Home to: Nazareth Golden Flyers
• Robert A. Kidera Gymnasium; Basketball, Volleyball
• Golden Flyer Stadium; Football, Soccer, Lacrosse

Saint John Fisher College

• Home to: Saint John Fisher Cardinals
• Growney Stadium; Football, Lacrosse, Soccer
• Dugan Yard; Baseball
• Bobby Wanzer Court at Manning & Napier Varsity Gym; Basketball

The Cardinals have practice grass fields that are also used for softball and even a nine hole golf course for the men’s and women’s golf teams.

Stevens Institute of Technology

• Home to: Stevens Ducks
• Walker Gymnasium
• DeBaun Field

Utica College

• Home to: Utica Pioneers
• Gaetano Stadium; Field Hockey, Football, Lacrosse
• Clark Athletic Center; Basketball, Volleyball, Swimming and Diving

The Clark Athletic Center also includes men’s and women’s saunas, racquetball courts, free weight rooms, a dance and aerobics room, an athletic training room and other athletic offices.

Now, with the concert of Howard Jennings/Vertical Horizon on the forefront of my mind, which goes to say a pretty high bar was set, going into Maroon 5 I naturally had high hopes.

Starting off with the fact that K’Naan (pictured above; single “Wavin’ Flag” is now the official song of the 2010 FIFA world cup; opened for Jason Mraz this summer) backed out for some unknown (or at least, undisclosed) reason, there seemed to be a half-hearted, last-minute replacement opener. No idea who she was, as she never said her name, but she had a keyboard, a guitar, and a voice that could’ve been used properly. Enough about her. On with the show.

Adam Levine proves himself to be a truly talented and unique musician, whose vocals cannot be mimicked, or copied, easily. It was a great travel back to 2002, but with their drummer missing for a “pressing family matter,” they seemed forced (dareisay, uncomfortable?) to re-vamp their whole show. They had Adrian Young of No Doubt filling in (impressive), but only for about 1/3 of the entire set. The rest of the show consisted of James Valentine (guitarist), Adam Levine, and an un-introduced keyboardist singing covers of Alicia Key’s “If I Ain’t Got You,” snippets of Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall”, and a revue of past #1 hits from Maroon 5.

I’m not complaining, but when Vertical Horizon (not to mention with an amazing opener like Howard Jennings) could come on stage after being gone almost as long as Maroon 5 and manage to hook fans from before into loving what is coming, one can’t help but think that most musicians would see that concert format as common sense. They mentioned that they are coming out with a new album that they are recording in Sweden, but gave no insight.

Altogether, good show to relax to, catch up on songs you haven’t heard in a while, be reminded of what true talent is, and hope that their next album is chock full of hits, as they previously have delivered.

Adam has also been quoted as saying that he believes the band is at its peak with the new upcoming album, and ultimately thinks that it will be their last.

GRADE: B-, subject to change with release (and review) of new album

Another article published in Reporter magazine.

http://reportermag.com/article/minority-report/the-opportunities-of-a-global-village

Next week I’ll have one published about TEDxRochester for those of you who couldn’t attend!

It was a slow start getting the discussion under way and headcount at first was sub-par. However, Professor Thomas Warfield did not seem the least bit disappointed. He trekked from the Rochester Institute of Technology on Tuesday Oct. 27 to deliver a lecture on the intricate relationship of homosexuality and race in the Seymour Student Union. The event was sponsored by S.O.U.L.

Thomas Warfield is the chair of the dance program at R.I.T. he’s been there for 12 years now. He also teaches a class on social individual identity. He didn’t come to talk about dance, no his purpose was a bit deeper than that.

The Rochester native doesn’t look like much of a professor with his denim cowboy boots and his short hair dyed a fiery red; you wouldn’t believe he’s already over the hill. He got the small congregation to sit in a circle which made the talk as he said, ’less like a class’. It made for a very informal and intimate environment which complemented the subject well.

The group at begining of event

Warfield shared his unique experience of being a black homosexual man. He weaved the cinematic tale of his life. He was born into a family steeped in the culture of classical music. His extensive schooling and the search for his identity lead him to all corners of the globe; New York City, Paris, and Hong-Kong among them. He told the story of how he held his ground in the midst of a circling group of skin-heads. He ended up averting conflict by being cordial. The ever-enlarging group of students listened intently. He wasn’t perturbed by all the late arrivals; he just seemed happy to see people join in.

Warfield encouraged students to live their lives as authentically as possible. He said the most important thing you can do is to be you’re ‘Authentic self’. “Being you’re authentic self is important to you and the people around you,” he said. “It’s Inspiring to see.”

Growing up, Warfield said he learned how to not be himself. He received doubled pressure from society for being black and a homosexual.  The African-American culture is steeped in Christianity which says homosexuality is a sin. Warfield hopes one day this will be discredited as eating shellfish was.

 He told students you must accept to be accepted. “I have great respect for those who march and protest; I was one of them,” he said. “Working on myself became much more important to me.”

Warfield said the best way to live and change the world is to be you’re Authentic Self and that in itself will be enough. When others see this happening it will make them feel the motivation to live that way too. Living authentically engages people to think.

His lecture moved the multi-cultured group of students to keep the event going and turned it into an open discussion. They asked questions to the whole group about their belief structures and what other’s opinions were on struggle with identity. They shared stories and experiences involving race and sexuality. There was debate on relating the struggle of African-Americans to the struggle of the homosexual community. The group was very accepting to all of this and for a short time there was a feeling of unity in room 202. An outsider would have seen it as a sign of hope in a world full of hate.

I visited former RIT( Rangoon Institute of Technology) in Burma in July 2009.
It was Tuesday..but the university was totally deserted…and ruined…Only a lecture was going on with few students at one classroom (1-3/16).
It was the sad reflection of how our education system in Burma is badly neglected today…
I took some photo and video clips..to share with all ex-RITians..

I had originally planned on attending the “Communicating Powerfully Across Gender” session, but since it was cancelled, I chose to attend this one instead. I hadn’t originally looked at it since it was listed in the Academic track, but I am glad I went since it was very interesting to hear about some methods of teaching first-year courses that other universities have tried.

There were 4 presenters, each from different schools: Duke University, Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT), Union College, and The College of New Jersey.

First, they talked about some of the issues that they had had previously with their introductory CS sequences. The major one that I noted was the 30-40% attrition rate in the CS major. Some of the issues they talked about helped not just women, but also men.

What they found was important in designing the first year courses:

1. Choosing the right tools
2. Peers, teams, expertise, and ownership
3. Relevant problems
4. Not dumbing it down

At Duke, they tried a peer-led team learning approach where the first year students would solve problems in groups of size 4-8, led by a junior/senior student, sort of like the tutorials run at the University of Waterloo, but on a much smaller scale. They found that having the social group was very encouraging for the students, especially for the women. Also, they taught the non-majors course in Alice, which drew 50% women.

At RIT, they had an introductory sequence focusing on game software development, sponsored by Microsoft. This helped the students since they were motivated by real issues, instead of just conjured up problems. They also had a higher retention rate in this sequence than in the normal one. The social aspect of game development brought out early collaboration and showed the importance of code analysis and peer critiquing to the first year students, something that most other courses don’t introduce at all.

Union College is a liberal arts college, so the first year courses serve as a significant recruiting tool for the various majors. They chose to offer a themed approach to their introductory CS course, with studio-style teaching combining lectures, discussions and hands-on activities such as pair programming. These themed courses include: computational science (applications in the sciences and social sciences), game development, artificial intelligence, robotics, media computation, and engineering applications. They found that students were more interested in working at the problems since they had chosen the interest.

The College of New Jersey had similar ideas to the other three schools. One of their comments was to stay away from using the term gatekeeper to refer to their introductory CS courses since it suggests that the course is a hurdle or that if they can get through the course, then they can get through CS, whereas the term door opener conveys a much more positive, but otherwise similar meaning.

I presented some of my notes on this session at the University of Waterloo Women in CS lunch after the Grace Hopper conference. One attendee seemed interested in the ideas I presented, but since our program sees such a significantly higher number of students per year (around 900 in total) than the schools who presented at the session, the information wasn’t nearly as valuable as it could have been.

I dreamed again this morning. This one had two guns. I wouldn’t have even noticed him if he hadn’t shot the other guy going after him. I heard the shot, and took off in a dead sprint from thirty meters away. I felt hungry. Always hungry. He should’ve blown me away just like the guy before. He was so close. I was staring down two barrels and I didn’t care. Eating was all that mattered. I woulda been dead but both his pistols jammed and I tore out his jugular. He was mine.

I woke up half an hour later in the commercial district. West side of the city. My shirt and jacket were completely covered in blood. The pain and hunger were gone. At first I thought the blood was mine…but it was on my mouth too. I’m not that flexible. Between the blood, my first full stomach in days and aching quads…I knew what it meant. I hadn’t been dreaming. I sat for hours in that ruined brick tower, my head in my hands, wanting to disappear. “Forgive yourself,” he’d said. That’s all I could do. Let go and move on. It’s all any survivor can do. Or go crazy, but I’d just gotten over that.

I stayed inside one of the large commercial complexes for the rest of the morning. Listening for movement and searching for anything to wash that damn taste out of my mouth. I found some vending machines and washed myself off with a few freshly looted bottles of water. My guess was that my girlfriend or anyone who lost a friend last night wouldn’t've wanted to see me covered in blood.

I finally called my girlfriend around four in the afternoon. She didn’t pick up the first few times, I don’t blame her. I was coming back from the dead. It wasn’t until about the third call that she cautiously said hello. Another moment of relief. ‘Till then I didn’t even know if she’d survived the night. Turned out she was scavenging on the north side in one of the newer, unconnected buildings. I happened to be in the main commercial complex again so I went north to watch the street from one of the upper levels. The less you were outside in broad daylight the better and little things like crossing the street could cost your life. She made it across no problem. The first time. She’d forgotten something in the building she was in and had to go back. I didn’t want to let her go back out there, just after getting back together, but she went. Made it back to the building no problem too. Something about the time of day on the third crossing though. Three infected passed through that street. We managed to wait the first two out, but the third stayed.

Hours passed. Another survivor came by and ducked into the same building my companion was in. It was three on one now, I motioned to her to get our new friend. The infected was distracted and I made the move. Ran up and dropped it. Clean execution shot to the back of the head. All three of us made it across. I was proud of that one.

We were in the complex again. Together. Safe. At least we were as long as we kept moving. We hopped from building to building for hours until the sun fell. We found ourselves in the dead center of the city. The building was surrounded by the infected. So much for safe. We did our best to lock up what was left of the doors, had a few more close calls just doing that. One door, there were seven or eight of em and I was the only gun between us. A few good shots kept em off just long enough. That was when it started getting crazy. We turned around to find a four man group of survivors, headed out the same door we just locked up. They said something about a technician, wanting to get back into the complex to set up some kind of beacon. We could hear the infected still there, clawing at the boards. There was no way I was letting those four go alone. I reached deep for courage and picked up my phone to see if a friend of mine was still alive. He was. I told him to meet the group coming out on the other side of the building hop. I left them after that, walking through the building I could hear fire and screaming, until it stopped abruptly. I don’t know what happened to them after that, just like any other passerby.

The night went on like that. Survivors passing through the building on their way to or from skirmishes. Almost like a war. But it wasn’t. There were no casualties. No prisoners. One guy came through the basement was the last of his group. Tall guy with a pistol. He was in shock. More hours passed. We saw large groups of infected walking down the main street. We kept quiet and they left us alone. I even saw Matthews again, passing through like all the others.

Eventually it all stopped, fizzled out. No more infected. No more survivors. Just the stillness of night. We were in the deadliest part of town and we’d survived the night. It was three in the morning, and we were exhausted. We went to the west side of the city to hide in the safe house. We had no where else to go. It was a gutted ruin, picked over by scavengers just like us. They’d left four walls and the roof though, and for us, that was enough.

After I have done my first waxing (which took about 3 hours all together),  I paint on my first colors.  Batik is a lot like watercolor, and uses a lot of watercolor technique.  I work from the lightest colors to the darkest colors.  The difference is  that I have to let each color dry before I can paint on the next color of dye, or wax over the existing color to preserve it.  It uses the same process of color Easter eggs in many ways, except that my style is much more complex, with many more layers.  Sometimes one of my Batiks can have as many as 10 different wax and dye layers before I finnish.  I use professional strength cold water dyes (Procion MX), which are  much more colorfast than home dyes, like Rit.  The colors are much brighter as well.  The downside is that protective headgear, like a NIOSH mask or vapor mask should be worn, as the dye powder is full of known carcinogens.   I hate to see what my lungs will look like when I die.   I had used these dyes many times before I learned how bad they are for you.   This really starts to become a labor of love.

 sfintesc in ploi, sangele ce-n palme-mi curge.
atat de singur cu a mea furie inchin, patruns de chin
jertfe ce-mi ceri si care nu le spui,
sunt jerfele ce doar eu le vad
le-nchin patruns de chin sperand...
 ...ca te vor multumii.

Geneseo

Northeastern

Binghamton

RIT

Vassar

Boston University

Hofstra

UB

B shift recently took part in a multi-company drill in Station 34’s response area. The drills focused on RIC, but were sequentially segmented into separate drills that focused on different parts of RIC procedures. The first drills were based on air management, or ROAM (rules of air management), while following drills incorporated search procedures and TIC training, as well as a simulated incident complete with firefighter down radio procedures and PAR policies. Participating companies were E-64, E-31, E-37, E-34, and Truck 21.

Overall the drills were very beneficial. Nearly everyone voiced agreement with this. Many stated that more drills like this need to take place. Others admitted that they had never been exposed to something like this before. I personally found the drills to be very helpful, and found myself wanting to continue drilling throughout the day, despite my exhaustion.

Key points of the air management drills:

• CAAN reports: As crews progressed along a hoseline searching for a downed firefighter, they encountered glow sticks tied to the hose at certain intervals. Once they reached this point, the designated member of the search crew (usually the company officer) gave a CAAN report to the RIC Group Supervisor. CAAN stands for conditions, actions, air, and needs. A typical CAAN report would be something like, “Heavy smoke, low visibility, low heat (conditions), progressing down the hoseline (actions), 75% air remaining (air), no needs.” Something we started utilizing for needs was a time stamp request from the RIC Group, allowing us to know how long we had been in the building.
• ROAM: The goal of the search crew was to exit the building prior to the low air alarm sounding. This meant that the crew member with the lowest amount of air determined the need to turn around and head for the exit. It also meant that the heads up display was typically not enough to give an accurate air reading. With three lights showing, a crew member could assume he had 75% remaining air. But that assumption could prove wrong, and did prove wrong for us, giving a false sense of security, when in fact the remaining air was much closer to half (around 2300 psi). We were able to get an accurate reading on our remaining air by looking directly at our partner’s bottle. But this takes time.

Our average time, from entry to exit, was about 12 minutes. The furthest we made it was 175 feet, based on counting couplings as we progressed down the hoseline. We made it out before our low air alarm sounded, but one time only by 10 seconds. We found that it is cumbersome to carry the extra SCBA, and that to have it set up in a bag, for RIC purposes, would be preferable. If someone was lower on air than another person, we moved equipment around so that that person did not have such a heavy a load. We also found that with a 3 person engine company progressing down a hoseline, the person in the back had a hard time hearing the communications from the lead guy. A relay was a must to provide positive communication. There was also some debate on how to progress down the hoseline. Should the lead guy be the only one on the hoseline, with the others simply following him? This eliminates every person having to follow all the bends and turns in a typical hoseline. Or should everyone keep a hand on the hoseline? That way if something happens, everyone has an idea of how the progression went. While we debated this, there was no debate about the value of the TIC. With one, much of the bends in the hoseline are eliminated simply because you can see them and bypass them.

My girlfriend and I made dawn this time. An early morning walk around south highway through the forest. Our tension slowly rose with the sun, not wanting to be seen in our all black clothes. It was quiet again. It’s been so quiet. We walked through the junkyard to cut some time. Not many people know of it. No one cares where their trash goes. The highway was empty again. Nothing jumped out of the forest. We walked in silence until we split up again, each going to our favorite scavenging spots to pick up what we could.

It was three in the afternoon before I got a call from her. I went to the plaza she said she was in only to find her in a hurry. She said she’d forgotten something in a building in the center of the city. We should’ve left it behind. It was crazy to think it was going to be easy. We started building hopping, the first few were simple until we got to that alleyway.

It looked safe. The left side was completely clear, I checked it myself. She was on the right. I thought she checked the corner. That damn building. We started heading right, I was furthest from the building. That corner. She should have checked it. There were two of them there. Waiting. They jumped out when they saw us. They were going straight for us. Less than a meter away. I had no time to pull my gun so I pulled her instead. Grabbing her by the shoulder, I threw her behind me, hoping she could get to the door in time. I took a slash to the stomach before I got my pistol out. I kept firing long after they were downed, but it was too late. They’d gotten me. Contact strain.

She was shocked. We both were. There wasn’t enough time. I gave her my rifle and sent her off to the north highway. She couldn’t be around me anymore. I couldn’t risk it. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t feel terrible yet. Maybe there was still time. I still had some of my vaccine voucher, some of it had torn off in the skirmish. I didn’t know where the feds would be patrolling so I headed for the residential district, hoping that they cared enough to protect the citizens that were left.

I was right. Just past the stadium I met up with another soldier in a Humvee, Sgt. Matthews. Told him my story. He said I was lucky to find him. He was scouting for other survivors in my situation. He had the vaccine. I could already feel a fever brewing as he gave me the shot. Probably the happiest moment of my life. He dropped me off on the far east side of the city with one last caution. “Just forgive yourself until it kicks in.” So much for relief.

I walked the rest of the highway as the sun began to set, the apartment towers getting smaller and smaller behind me with each laborious step. My skin felt like it was slipping off my aching bones. My stomach was burning with hunger. I slowly stepped up the stoop of our home, sweating the whole way. It was empty. Smart girl. I wanted nothing but to crawl into bed and pass out.

Dark. Faded. Grey. It was a dream. I was running, chasing something. Someone. It was on the north highway. There were others too, maybe eight. We sprinted out of the woods, all chasing the same person. Hungry. I was in the lead. Our prey saw us and shook her head. She was dead long before she got the guy next to me with that little six-shooter. I remember her on the ground after that. Screaming. She should’ve shot herself.

I wandered for a few hours after that, hunting people down. I got another before the night’s end. His gun jammed, pointed right at me. I was so hungry. I didn’t even care. The rest of the dream was uneventful. Mostly fighting with others and wandering aimlessly looking for that next kill. I remember being near the south loop when the shouting started. A group of survivors was bushwhacking through the southern forest, being tracked by two infected. Those two called the rest of us, but the survivors were too fast.

I jerked awake. It was still night, and I was outside. Must’ve been sleepwalking. I was too tired to go back to the apartment so I dragged myself into one of the crumbling buildings and fell asleep once more.

It would have been a nice walk along the highway if it hadn’t been for the zombie apocalypse. We’d set out from our house early in the morning, with nothing but a few granola bars and a glass of water in our stomachs. It was a little too late for her tastes. The sun was already up and a police patrol or…an infected would have seen our silhouettes from a kilometer away.

About ten minutes into our walk, we came across another couple of survivors. Geez, we’re called survivors now… They were walking in the same direction we were, following a line of small firs for cover. The guy seemed to know what he was doing, but the girl was too hurried. She moved like she’d never carried a gun before and definitely would have gotten all of us killed if a glassy white eye glanced our way.

We found a grenade on the side of the road. Probably had something to do with that distress call from last night. My girlfriend took it ’cause she’s always been better at throwing than handling a gun. I managed to scrounge up a submachine gun for myself from one of the bodies on the ground. He wasn’t using it.

We decided to split up for a bit so we could scavenge more ground. I spent most of my time unceremoniously getting food from vending machines and looking for parts to refurbish my new gun. I was studying to be a mechanic in my past life. Before all this.

I resurfaced a little while later to find a small note written on a scrap of torn paper with purple ink. I had no doubt it was her handwriting when I picked it up. She’d been in the library. She hated that library. Ever since they’d lost those books and blamed her, the thought of that place made her seething mad. Now she was in there, looking through almanacs for sunrise times so we could stay under cover of darkness in the morning. She can be so sweet.

I made my way through the tunnel system under the city, nodding to the occasional gun-clutching stranger. Most of the survivors had moved underground, avoiding the infected. I heard whispers, walking through those dim corridors. “…avel in groups…” “…hunting at nigh…” “…be back by now…” They were scared. All of them. The second I stepped out of the tunnels, I saw why.

I was met at the door with a hand on my mouth, a friend from our former life keeping me quiet. I nodded and he let go. With just a few words between us, he pointed out the ‘zombies’ with his pistol. They were crawling all over the 20 or so meters between the bus stop and the tunnel. He explained to me that the army was coming by on the old bus schedule, shuttling survivors out of the city in APCs. The infected ones loved to feed there because panicked refugees would run the gap to get to the road. That gap got longer and longer each time.

I stayed. Watching. They knew. I could feel it on the back of my neck. Must’ve been hours I stood there, gun pointed, tracing their movement. My friend and I quietly joked about how screwed someone running the the bus would be. Another small thing, a short chuckle with a pal. You don’t even think about it ’till it’s gone…which is when it happened.

The APC pulled up and I thought about running it, just for a second. Fortunately for me, one of the survivors from the tunnel got the idea first. Before we could stop him, some poor kid ran right out of the tunnel, forgetting the gun slung on his shoulders and booking it for what he thought was safety. Every infected there was on him in less than a second. The sounds…he was screaming like hell, those monsters were groaning and screeching. Ten or so were ripping him apart, skin and blood everywhere. That coulda been me…

A few that weren’t feasting on him were looking at us. Taking the hint, we pulled back inside and sealed the door. Another guy came up just as I was saying bye to my friend, looking to get to the APC. No way was I letting this kid go out there alone. I took him through the tunnels, headed for the west side of the city. The west side is right next to the highway, always busy and loud. It was strange to see it so quiet. We followed the highway around the north side of the city, bushwhacking through the forest when we saw any infected.

We were getting close to the east side of the city, closer to home for me and this kid. Emerging from the forest, we saw someone running towards us. It was a survivor. We were so close to one of the buildings. We sprinted inside, meeting up with the other runner in the broken down lobby. He said he’d been chased around the west side by a group of infected, just south of the highway we’d just taken. We’d all barely made it.

I let the two go off together and I was alone again, headed for home. Emerging from the eastern tunnels, I dreaded the long topside walk from the residential district to the suburbs. Right then though, an APC pulled up right next to the exit. I went for it immediately. Getting settled in, I watched the window. The route I was about to take had a few infected patrolling it, and who knows how many in the trees. Another close call.

The driver said he was making the old rounds, only dropping people off at the military base. I convinced him to let me get off at the old bus stop next to my house though. He was already headed that way so a scavenged can of beans and a few power bars was all the convincing it took.

I was finally home. It’d been a long day and there was no way I was going out again. It was Hell’s Kitchen night and the food looked so good I could almost taste it. The shortwave scanner was abuzz about some beacons or some foolishness. A few friends even used the still functioning cell phone network to send me a text. Warnings. Apparently the beacons were a massacre waiting to happen. I warned off everyone I thought was still alive and tucked in for bed. Took a while, those screams still ringing in my head, but I got to sleep. Another long day.

I had another article published in the Reporter (RIT’s school magazine) today.

I’m pretty happy with it! However, there are some editing errors in there that I’m less happy about. Not sure if the errors appear in the print version. Let me know what you think!

http://reportermag.com/article/10-02-2009/picture-the-impossible

I’m coming back after having no blog posts for almost 2 months with some exciting news: I’ve been hired as a writer for Reporter magazine, RIT’s weekly publication. Yay!

I’m currently writing for the “news” and “views” sections in the magazine.

My first assignment was to cover the weekly Student Government meeting (riveting material, I know). For those of you who want to read my first published article, click below.

http://reportermag.com/article/09-25-2009/sg-update

I’m submitting a way more exciting article tomorrow, which will be published next week. I’ll be sure to post that one too!

I’ll also write more soon about all of the exciting journalist things that I’ve been up to lately.

Half, they estimate. It’s been almost twenty four hours since the first reports of an outbreak started popping up and now the news is reporting that half of the population has been taken. Those are the numbers they are reporting. I suspect the true statistics are much more grim. They say that everyone should stay inside, that the virus has yet to become airborne and that protecting ourselves from contact with the infected by staying indoors is the only way to stay untouched. A lot of good that did those fifty percent.

Most of the television stations are still operational. My girlfriend and I even managed to catch the season premiere of one of our favorite shows, House. If only someone like that was working on this virus. Or maybe they were.

I should have been keeping an ear on the scanner though. One of the shortwave frequencies had a call for help from some scientist holed up on the opposite side of the city. I don’t know if I would have gone had I picked it up earlier. Looking at the recent reports, maybe an extra gun would have made a difference. No way to know now.

No, now I must rest. Enjoy what could be the last night I have with my girlfriend before one of those half comes for us.

The hot sun beat down on our caravan. The long black overcoat combined with the weight of my pack made me the slowest in our group of five and most likely to die if we were rounded up by the police, or worse. My girlfriend and I managed to find three others that were headed in our direction. As a group, we’d decided to walk around our small city to avoid being seen by the now regular patrols. These patrols weren’t doing any good.

You could hear the low moans of the slowly decaying victims from anywhere in the city. I hadn’t seen any of the victims personally, but there were stories among the other huddled survivors. Pale white eyes, slowly rotting flesh, an insatiable need to eat, their tales were straight out of a horror film.

In spite of our fear, our band kept walking in the open, trudging through the grass until we found the forest on the outside of town. We all went silent, listening to the trees for any sign of movement. We kept walking single file and came upon another group. Campers. Poor people probably didn’t even know what was happening. We waved at them but quietly kept moving, not wanting to be followed or take on any unarmed dead weight. The forest turned into grassland. We started bushwhacking to avoid the usual trails. It was easy enough, at first. The reeds pressed down by deer served as a template for my new path. Some in our group wanted to turn back, including my girlfriend, but with a little cajoling, we made it over the hill. I fell to my knees and sat down, my heavy pack and the morning’s long black coat still encumbering me in the hot sun.

The rest of the group made it to the top, starting with my companion, who looked as tired as I felt. There was a feeling of relief in the five of us. It was a small victory in a series of challenges yet to come.

We all made it to a back road. There were cars flipped and crashed every so often on the side of the road. The grim sights of the contaminated and mangled drivers slowly being eaten by flies quickly replacing our jubilation with somber caution once again. My girlfriend and I said goodbye to our three newfound friends, both groups unsure if they’d ever meet again.

We were smiling in spite of ourselves, joking over the rediculousness of it all when we saw it. It was a victim. It walked slowly with a twisted step, skin peeling away so badly that we could see the organs even from a distance. We ducked into a nearby thicket and considered crossing the algae filled river. Fortunately for us, the…thing kept walking, unaware of our presence. We waited until it was near the highway before we kept moving towards our house. From there on it was quiet, only the sounds of the forest remained near our little suburban house. It was eerie, but it made detection much easier.

Now I sit, drenched in sweat while she makes some sausages we’d left behind. I imagine that after that trek, those sausages will taste great.

The riots started sometime after one in the morning. Neither of us heard it from the couch in our friend’s apartment, but overnight it all went to hell. The comfort and protection of our safehouse vanished in an instant. Cars were overthrown, buildings raided and looted, people going mad in the street, it was absolute chaos all as we slept, unknowing.

Two of our four hosts were among those who snapped. It started with one going a late night meeting and never coming back. We warned him not to go. We suspected that the police were going to start rounding people up. “For their own protection,” of course. Come morning he hadn’t returned and another went to look for him. He vanished as well.

My girlfriend and I decided that our little stronghold was no longer secure. I called in a friend whose car had been skipped over by the deranged mobs and we managed to get out in under half an hour. At this point we had nowhere else to go, so we moved back to our house. The door was ajar, knocked off its hinges by some looter late last night. My friend stood by and covered me as I took bag after bag back into our abandoned abode.

Now my girlfriend and I sit in an office building, eating some food we found in one of the vending machines. The fake waterfall behind us is peaceful compared to the broken glass and upturned chairs in the foyer. It’s a small thing, being here with her. A moment of peace in a world gone mad. Soon we’ll have to head out into that world again, but for now we rest, content.

So it has begun… The zombie invasion of RIT. The game began midnight on Monday, and will end Friday sometime. I haven’t done anything crazy, but my roommate ran out on the first night.  In the first 24 hours, half of the humans were turned into zombies.  Also, from what I’ve heard, we failed the first mission pretty badly.  I think I’ll go out this evening and help win the day.  My roomy got turned into a zombie, which sucks.

The game itself though is absolutely amazing.

We knew this day would come. For the past two weeks there had been whispers of a virus being played with in building eight. Most people chose to ignore it, going about their daily grind as if there was no threat. Others were fearful. Some formed groups to keep their friends close, watching each other’s backs.

A meeting was held by the government. The crowd was panicked and unruly, shouting at the bureaucrats as their minions handed out vouchers for some vaccine. No one trusted them. As if it would have done any good.

Now I sit in my bunker, eating cold spaghetti with cheese. I keep my guns close and my girlfriend closer while the late night reports start to filter in. Unknown virus. Contamination. The names of the first twenty three victims scrolling past as the list grows longer by the minute. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring for my friends and myself, but we do have one thing on our side that most chose to stay blind to.

We knew this day would come.