I didn't think I would post anything on 9/11, namely because most of the things I could have said have been said much more eloquently and personally by others.
On Septmeber 11th, 2001, I was into about the second week of my freshman year. I'd been fantastically sick for the last 4 or so days, to the point where the weekend before, Mike had forcibly abducted me, took me home to his bed, fed me soup and kept the cold rags coming. I'd woken up around 8:30 to sit at my little cubbyhole desk and finish up a presentation I had to do for a class.
At about 9:30, Kristen burst into my room in tears. This didn't phase me too much. Kristen bursts into tears over a raincloud. When she told me that a plane had hit one of the towers in NYC, my first instinct was almost a laugh. Not because it was funny, simpy because when humans are told shocking news, smiling is almost a defense mechanism. We didn't know that the plane was commercial, and we certainly didn't think it a severe enough incident to cause the towers to collapse.
I went to class, I gave my presentation. It was about Candide, and I had to find a corresponding song that matched the spirit and message of the novel. I played Lie in our Graves by Dave Matthews Band. The point was, I said, that no matter what misfortunes we may encounter in life, no matter how overwhelming it may seem, the meaning of life is in enjoying quiet moments of happiness and in appreciating friends and loved ones.
As I walked through the quad to go back to my room, I heard that the second tower had fallen.
Watching the news seemed unreal. I sat in silent shock, teary-eyed and disbelieving. I called my mother, then I got throught o Mike (Mike was supposed to have been going to a trip to NYC the 12th). I don't particularly know why, only that I needed to see how they were taking the news.
When found out that another plane had hit the Pentagon, I called another close friend who goest to Catholic U. in DC. She was quarintined on campus for nearly three days, but she was safe.
The week that followed was a haze of rekage and the same footage thousands of time. It took me a long while to put my feelings into words. My journal entry for the 11th was mostly estimates and raw facts- nearly 10,000 possibly dead. That number seemed absolutely staggering, not that the 3,000 who actually died isn't horrendous enough.
Two days worth of not being able to write how I felt, and I jsut gave up. I barely mentioned the attacks. Anyone who reads my journal in a future time will probably think me a shallow bitch, or self absorbed. I was jut so saturated with images of smoke and pain, the words "dead" "wounded" and "missing" that I just couldn't deal with any more.
I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to live in NYC, to have lost someone.
Heather and I were discussing at lunch today weter or not 9/11 will become a national holiday. If it does, what then? Will it be like Martin Luther King Jr. Day? Just another three-day weekend, time for a barbeque? Will we forget more each year, until this tragedy is just another day to sleep in?
I hope not.
On Septmeber 11th, 2001, I was into about the second week of my freshman year. I'd been fantastically sick for the last 4 or so days, to the point where the weekend before, Mike had forcibly abducted me, took me home to his bed, fed me soup and kept the cold rags coming. I'd woken up around 8:30 to sit at my little cubbyhole desk and finish up a presentation I had to do for a class.
At about 9:30, Kristen burst into my room in tears. This didn't phase me too much. Kristen bursts into tears over a raincloud. When she told me that a plane had hit one of the towers in NYC, my first instinct was almost a laugh. Not because it was funny, simpy because when humans are told shocking news, smiling is almost a defense mechanism. We didn't know that the plane was commercial, and we certainly didn't think it a severe enough incident to cause the towers to collapse.
I went to class, I gave my presentation. It was about Candide, and I had to find a corresponding song that matched the spirit and message of the novel. I played Lie in our Graves by Dave Matthews Band. The point was, I said, that no matter what misfortunes we may encounter in life, no matter how overwhelming it may seem, the meaning of life is in enjoying quiet moments of happiness and in appreciating friends and loved ones.
As I walked through the quad to go back to my room, I heard that the second tower had fallen.
Watching the news seemed unreal. I sat in silent shock, teary-eyed and disbelieving. I called my mother, then I got throught o Mike (Mike was supposed to have been going to a trip to NYC the 12th). I don't particularly know why, only that I needed to see how they were taking the news.
When found out that another plane had hit the Pentagon, I called another close friend who goest to Catholic U. in DC. She was quarintined on campus for nearly three days, but she was safe.
The week that followed was a haze of rekage and the same footage thousands of time. It took me a long while to put my feelings into words. My journal entry for the 11th was mostly estimates and raw facts- nearly 10,000 possibly dead. That number seemed absolutely staggering, not that the 3,000 who actually died isn't horrendous enough.
Two days worth of not being able to write how I felt, and I jsut gave up. I barely mentioned the attacks. Anyone who reads my journal in a future time will probably think me a shallow bitch, or self absorbed. I was jut so saturated with images of smoke and pain, the words "dead" "wounded" and "missing" that I just couldn't deal with any more.
I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to live in NYC, to have lost someone.
Heather and I were discussing at lunch today weter or not 9/11 will become a national holiday. If it does, what then? Will it be like Martin Luther King Jr. Day? Just another three-day weekend, time for a barbeque? Will we forget more each year, until this tragedy is just another day to sleep in?
I hope not.
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