Think it's because we're so awesome?

I didn't post on 09/11/01 - like most of the world, I'd suspect, I spent the evening watching news reports. But I did post the day after. Five years ago today, I wasn't sure there'd *be* a fifth anniversary to commemorate. It felt like the world was about to end.

12 September 2001 @ 06:46 am: War in our lifetime. 12 September 2001 @ 07:15 pm: Quiet..

If you haven't yet, read Two Weeks, by zaen. It's a sad, sweet, hopeful JuC story set during the two weeks following September 11th. [Link fixed. Thanks, zaen. :-)]

I lost my mother three weeks after 9/11, so I was still reeling from both the tragedy in NY and my own personal loss when I read the story. It made me cry, laugh and smile, and was cathartic. I've re-read it many times; it holds a special place in my heart. :-)

I DVR'd the Today show this morning, but about two minutes in they showed President Bush and I just couldn't watch any more. He sickens me. I'll be glad when he's gone.

Commemorating 9-11 by Impeaching the President, The Baltimore Chronicle.

Something else that got me all misty, but made me feel better in those first few weeks after: the I am an American public service announcements by the American Ad Council. I felt patriotic in a non-hysterical way, and that everything just might be okay some day.

This has hit me hard, and I can't watch anymore on TV. Haven't watched today; I'm saturated. Filled. Teary whenever I see it/hear about it. Need some distance, so I'm not watching.

Helicopters:

Before the attack, helicopters at night meant the cops were chasing criminals. Post-attack, with nothing else in the air, I'm comforted by the sound, thinking the night patrol is doing its thing, keeping us safe from terrorists while we sleep.


Planes:

Before the attack - We're not far from the final approach for the airport quite some miles away, so planes are a constant.

The day of the attack - no planes flying, nothing in the sky. Strange, weird oddness. Not-right, eerie.

Post-attack - When the planes started flying again, the first one I heard, a co-worker looked up at the ceiling, looking a little nervous for a microsecond, and then we both laughed, relieved. She commented that it was weird that planes had suddenly become an object of terror. First one I saw, after, seemed huge and low in the sky, too close. I wasn't scared, but I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't beat a little more quickly for a few seconds. I like hearing them now, for reasons that look weird in print. I guess I like hearing the sound of America getting on with it, not being afraid. Going forward.

Heard "God Bless America" this morning, and it seemed weird and surreal. Heard it on the radio this evening, and I turned the channel. I don't want to hear it again.

We're having a bizarrely beautiful early fall, and when I think to myself what a gorgeous day it is, I suddenly remember that my life has changed, that the world has changed. There's a hard little nugget of sadness inside, and I don't know if it will ever go away.

Sitting here bawling - again. I'm stunned - like most of the world, I suspect.

The Federal buildings were cleared out yesterday, and it must have been the same across the country, according to posts and email I've seen. Work was *bizarre*, to sum it up in a word.

I have two monitors, a PC and a workstation, so all day I had news up on one screen while I worked (tried to work) on the other. It was oddly quiet, too. Lots of small groups, or pairs, talking very quietly about what was going on. Computer speakers turned up slightly so people could hear streaming news (that's usually a no-no). In areas that had them, TV monitors used for training tapes were turned to the news. Groups of senior management were clustered together, talking about what was going on in our home office.

Security guards patrolled the parking lots and garage all day, and walked the halls of the building. While it was an effort to make sure we were safe (which seems almost laughable given what happened in NYC), it also weirded me out on a major scale. I felt physically ill all day, and close to tears quite a few times. An act of war on American soil, in my lifetime. It's almost too much to comprehend.

When I got home I watched news reports for about two and a half hours straight, and had about five seperate meltdowns. I'm a major whinin' baby when it comes to flying, and I can't even imagine the horror, the terror of those people on the jets. The film footage - Jesus! And then the buildings crumbling, just falling. Gone. Just gone. All those people.

Another day begins, and who knows what's going to happen. I hope that everyone I know and love will be safe today. I wish that everyone around the world could be safe today, but we all know that's not going to happen. But I'll do it anyway. I hope everyone around the world will be safe today. Things have got to get better. They *have* to.