█▒ ⇝ birth name ⇌ ariella j. calipherro
█▒ ⇝ call me ⇌ arie
█▒ ⇝ alive for ⇌ twenty one
█▒ ⇝ date of birth ⇌ 12/01/91
█▒ ⇝ gender ⇌ female
█▒ ⇝ sexual preference ⇌ heterosexual
█▒ ⇝ ethnicity ⇌ hispanic

▒█ ⇝ fear ⇌ hawks
▒█ ⇝ fear ⇌ scorpions
▒█ ⇝ secret ⇌ i feel sorry for the zombies
▒█ ⇝ illnesses ⇌ allergic to bees, white roses, and strawberries

█▒ ⇝ physical imperfections ⇌ small scars here and there
█▒ ⇝ eye color ⇌ blue
█▒ ⇝ hair color ⇌ blonde and brown
█▒ ⇝ height ⇌ 5'6"
█▒ ⇝ weight ⇌ 120lbs

▒█ ⇝ song ⇌ fully alive
▒█ ⇝ song ⇌ you're gonna go far kid

█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ bubbles	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ being inside
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ polaroid cameras	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ mosquitoes
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ documenting everything	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ escalators
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ ice cream	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ people that walk slowly
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ summer rain	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ the fact that so many people are dead
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ being the first to know things	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ slipping on melted ice
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ leaving the undead unharmed if possible	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ wearing jeans
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ running	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ scratchy material
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ antiques	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ cold water
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ the little home I have set up for myself	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ using headphones

▒█ ⇝ raised in ⇌ reno, nevada
▒█ ⇝ now living ⇌ somewhere, california
▒█ ⇝ occupation ⇌ college student, videographer in training
I was eight years old when I learned that Reno, Nevada wasn’t just a cluster of woods. Until that point I thought the supermarket was the area to right of our camp, the mall was the ring of tents, and school was the fluffy pillow in front of my mom’s sleeping bag. My mom and dad loved the outdoors and were big environmentalists—when I was born they were in the middle of filming a documentary about living off the grid. When they had me they continued their work, raising me on the tree-filled piece of land they inherited from their parents.

The only electronics I knew of growing up were cameras. Filming a documentary required lots and lots of cameras and I was fascinated with them. It took ten years for the film to be finished with and a large part of that was because I constantly messed up shots by walking in front of the cameras and trying to play with them. My mom had to renew her grant four times thanks to my curiosity, and I’m sure there are piles and piles of outtakes in an editing room somewhere.

That curiosity followed me into the real world when we were done living off the grid. Moving into a house and starting school with other kids was a big transition, especially since I’d never even lived in a place with air conditioning before. Feeling that first wave of cool, forced air brought on all sorts of questions.  Where was the cool air coming from? It wasn’t night yet, how was it cool during the day in Reno? How did cars work and how did they have cool air too? It took years to adjust to living in a city setting, but I always preferred being outside and living out in the open.

Despite the fact that I preferred living out in the world rather than surrounded by four walls and a roof, I didn’t become an extreme environmentalist like my parents. Instead I started working with cameras after a family friend brought over some equipment to shoot a short film. I was around thirteen at the time and still pretty new to all that fancy technology, but I was a natural. Learning to edit clips together took a while to learn, but the filming was a breeze. I bought two things with the money I made from my first summer job: a camera and a camping set. Every summer since then I spent my summers living in a pitched tent, roaming wherever my legs would take me with a camera in my hand, and absorbing anything and everything I experienced during my little adventures.

When I eventually started college I couldn’t force myself to live in an icky dorm room. I just felt so confined and my roommate never understood why I was so fascinated with every aspect of life. I moved to California for school so I couldn’t just commute from home, so I used the dorm refund money to deck out a space in a nearby camping spot. A portable shower, power generator, and mobile hotspot were all I needed to be happy with my living arrangement. My parents even bought me numerous other supplies that I could use with little or no power as a homecoming gift.

With my ability to be (almost) completely self-sufficient, one would think that I was most prepared for an apocalypse. I was prepared in a way I suppose. Out of all the students that went to my school, only I and a handful of others made it out alive. The rich kids were the first to go—too preoccupied with the fact that they didn’t have anything to power their hair straighteners to find a gun and shoot a zombie in the head. Me? I had a gun in my tent but I never had the chance to use it.

The first time I saw a zombie was on a weekend. I invited a few friends over to cook for them on my barbecue pit and we were all sitting outside when we heard the moaning. The sound came from behind the trees and rendered us all speechless. Once we saw what it was, two of my friends started screaming. I stayed quiet and moved slowly, hoping that he wouldn’t make any sudden movements if I didn’t. He didn’t even notice me, though—the screaming that my friends were doing more than caught his attention.

I didn’t have much time to pack my duffel bag, but I had enough to get the essentials—clothes, forms of communication, important papers, and the shotgun I kept underneath the tent. I thought I would have more time to think, but the sounds coming from where the zombie was attacking my friends had every thought scramble quickly. By the time I was done packing, he turned to me. I fumbled to load the shotgun and aimed it at him as fast as I could, but I couldn’t shoot. I knew how to and had practiced with a shotgun before, there was just something in me that wouldn’t let me pull the trigger. I ran instead, and I ran fast. Running was a bit of a hobby of mine so I didn’t tire easily, but the zombie didn’t tired at all. I think I ran three miles before he caught some other scent and veered elsewhere.

Life has been pretty hectic since then.

█▒ ⇝ birth name ⇌ ryland e. irving
█▒ ⇝ call me ⇌ ryland
█▒ ⇝ alive for ⇌ twenty five years
█▒ ⇝ date of birth ⇌ 08/12/87
█▒ ⇝ gender ⇌ male
█▒ ⇝ sexual preference ⇌ heterosexual
█▒ ⇝ ethnicity ⇌ french

▒█ ⇝ fear ⇌ dark clouds
▒█ ⇝ fear ⇌ bunnies
▒█ ⇝ secret ⇌ i have a zombie locked in the hotel next to me
▒█ ⇝ illnesses ⇌ no allergies, no apparent illnesses

█▒ ⇝ physical imperfections ⇌ doesn't look great with long facial hair
█▒ ⇝ eye color ⇌ blue
█▒ ⇝ hair color ⇌ brown
█▒ ⇝ height ⇌ 5'11"
█▒ ⇝ weight ⇌ 160lbs

▒█ ⇝ song ⇌ remember everything
▒█ ⇝ song ⇌ tangled in the great escape

█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ suits	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ dirt
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ cigarettes	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ rainy weather
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ air conditioning	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ crossbows
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ tall buildings	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ getting too close to that zombie filth
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ taking out zombies as a game	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ all things of poor quality
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ snail mail	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ eating out of a can
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ nice cars	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ most furry animals
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ cologne	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ being sweaty, however unavoidable it is
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ quality food	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ scrounging
█▒ ⇝ ♥ ⇝ sniper rifles	█▒ ⇝ ✗ ⇝ having no purpose

▒█ ⇝ raised in ⇌ irvine, california
▒█ ⇝ now living ⇌ hotel suite in somewhere, california
▒█ ⇝ occupation ⇌ engineer


I was born in an airplane—landed, first class—during one of the several trips my mother and father took during their move from Paris to the good ‘ole USA. My birth certificate says Richmond, Virginia, but my parents were headed to California when I popped out a little early.

Our French relatives like to joke that being born in the first class area of an airplane ruined my life, and they were right, but only partly. Being born into a world full of riches has spoiled me quite a bit, but those riches extended further than just my birthplace. My parents were rich. They got into the investment business early and had me when they finally had enough money to settle down without having to work for a living. With their earnings they bought a nice condo in the most beautiful city in America they had ever witnessed during their business travels—Irvine, California—and made sure I had everything I ever wanted. From what I’ve seen of the world I have to agree with them; Irvine is pretty damn beautiful. Well, it used to be.  

I haven’t been to my hometown since halfway through college. I decided at a pretty young age that I wanted to go to a fine institution after high school. My parents had me in private school from age four and were always pushing me to do something great with myself. I worked hard to make them proud by getting perfect grades, being involved in tons of extracurricular activities, and learning how to cook and clean after myself. They never seemed impressed and always wanted more. I always wanted more, too. More money, more cars, more clothes, more girls, and more of their affection. They gave me everything but affection and I gave them everything I had to offer as their son.

All in all it didn’t work out to be a functional parent-child relationship. After I moved out to go to the most prestigious school I could find in the state of California we kind of drifted apart. They had my brother, who was born eight years after I, to take care of and they felt he needed more than I did at that point in my life. They thought he needed affection. At the end of my sophomore year my parents told me that they had an excellent business opportunity back in France and that they were leaving. My brother Grant stayed behind with close family friends and I was told not to go and visit him unless I was given explicit instructions to do so. I don’t know why my parents didn’t want me seeing my brother, but I was angry enough that I didn’t question it and I never went against their wishes.

I went to school for engineering and environmental science. I enjoyed the subjects but also hoped that helping to develop next generation solar technology would ring as “something great” in my parents’ eyes. By the time graduation rolled around I more or less forgot that I even had a family until my brother showed up at my apartment. He wanted to know why I was never around—why I never visited. I told him that mom and dad didn’t want me to distract him from the perfect life they had planned for him and that as long as I was getting money from them I wasn’t going to fuck that up. They, on the other hand, told him that I didn’t want to be his brother to deter him from wanting to see me.

Against our parents’ wishes, I let him move into my apartment. He was a smart kid and finished school early, so he got a job as a busboy. Any money from the ‘rents was sent only to Grant from that day forward, but I didn’t mind much. I was able to keep up my lifestyle by getting a job with an energy company that was in need of someone with my knowledge. I still had loans to pay off and rent was steep, but I still had my suits, Rolex watches, and cars. I spoke to my parents to update them on how my brother was doing every few weeks, but one day they stopped picking up. I wasn’t sure what happened until the breaking news reports started popping up. Everything happened so fast, all I could comprehend was some freak zombie plague taking out everyone in its path. It started overseas and traveled to different countries by way of plane and shipping goods.

My brother and I were safe until more and more people around us started getting sick. My brother was one of them. Whatever changed people into zombies found my brother while he was working. Businesses started shutting, people started going insane, and I decided it was time to get out of there. Los Angeles was supposed to be the place to go in California for those seeking shelter and a cure. That’s where I headed and that’s where I’ve been for a while now. It’s boring to say the least. I wake up in my hotel room located on the 39th floor and try to find a way to pass the time. Usually that means finding food or sniping whatever creature is roaming around the entrance of the hotel.

I’m still waiting on that cure.