2001-09-13 :: 12:57 a.m.

something, something

Seems lately I don't have soundtracks, because these are moments stolen quickly.

In the midst of tragedy, some todayidid regularity:

Today I slept in, ate breakfast, went to two classes, slept for 15 minutes in one of them, put off a ton of work, picked up my futon mattress in Jeb's Explorer, hauled it into the apartment with Nick, reassembled my beautiful handmade futon with Nick (finally I won't just be sleeping on a papazon cushion), watched too much CNN and CBS News, called home twice (Dad was making his garden grow in true Candide fashion in this best of all possible worlds), and put off work. Class is in session but it's hazy. I couldn't even play pinball yesterday to distact myself from my distraction; I played like crap. My lucky streak continues, no one directly related to me is missing... for that I'm grateful, but my instinct is still a seesaw between overconsumption and distance. I want to see and know every last detail, and then I want to forget it and have a laugh and not feel bad about thinking about me again. I want to feel like every last thing I say isn't a failure when it comes to something like this. I want the talking heads to stop making what should be one sentence into ten.

Tonight I went to AS220 and saw some local hiphop, and one of the groups rapped about tragedy and gravity and it was just nice to have people around, bobbing, trying to get on a little bit, but still acknowledging what was going on around us, in our country.

One thing I don't want: A second coming of internment camps.

One thing I know in some way is wrong yet want a great deal: To see the Delta Force kicking terrorist ass and taking names. How can you not want some vengeance after this? But then what? Will we be a better, changed world after that, or will we become complacent and divided again until another tragedy comes our way? I somehow fear it will be the latter. How can this fear be real until you really suffer a personal loss or see it with your own eyes instead of in replay on the television? Without some personal grounding in reality, it's just unbelievable, and therefore not 100% accepted as reality. And somehow that's the coping mechanism I employ.

Is it really a changed world? I'm baffled and bewildered and when I see the true heroes, the rescue workers, I feel my heart tighten, but otherwise it's all so much abstract craziness that I just don't know what to do. I haven't cried, does that mean something's wrong with me? I got an email from a friend in Japan that said "Tell me what you are up to, please let me relief," and that's how I feel... I'm just tired...

I just gave to the Red Cross Disaster Relief Fund at Amazon. There's a blood drive on Friday. At least it's something. Something. Something.

I have a 9AM class. Life goes on, sort of.