story1338.xml

story1338.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-08-20

I woke up early on Tuesday morning-- I like the morning-time; I'm a "morning person."
I had a Russian history class at 10:20am, but I wanted to have time to get some coffee and
actually take a glance at my reading assignment. Before I showered, I pressed rewind on the VCR (watched "Pollock" previous night and had to return it).
When I came back in the room, the tape had been rewound but the VCR had reverted to TV.
That's when I saw it. The first plane had already hit one of the towers.
At first I didn't think much of it... I don't know what I thought. But I kept watching the news.
At that time, I can't remember what station I was watching, they were (the news anchors) trying to figure out
if it was a terrorist attack or not. Then the second plane hit.
I knew it was serious-- I was affected less, at very first, by the images than I was by the shock and
fear reverberating in the journalists' voices: "Ohmigod! A second plane just hit!" "Did you just see that?" "Oh, those poor people!"

Then, I don't know, a panic-button went off in my head or my heart...
I lived in a sorority house at the time that had a paging system.
It was still pretty early (by college-standards of time)-- but I woke everyone up.
Some girls didn't get it, why it was so frightening.
But I am a journalism and political theory major-- and it infuriated me that they were so...indifferent--
so, I scared them all. I made a bunch of girls cry.

Then my mom called and made me cry. She called my two older sisters on the West coast, too. She really thought
that the apocalypse was upon us. Maybe it is.

It wasn't until the Pentagon got hit that I became nearly hysterical.
I started to shake and cry. It was too scary. I didn't know what was happening.
Nobody did. I ran to the student Catholic church or something like that-- it was right behind my house.
I went with two other girls and we lit candles. And tried to pray.
I used to be religious when I was in elementary and middle school-- I went to a parochial
school back then. I couldn't think or pray.
But I wanted to be with other people.
I had already skipped Russian history class, but I walked to my
next class (a magazine writing class).
A few people were there and all we did was watch the news. Nobody talked much.
By 3pm, I had my political theory senior seminar with some of the brightest, most articulate
kids I know. We didn't know what to say. So we talked abuot
our reading and stayed the full time.
I came back and watched news.
Then I went to the bar a lot. I drank. I turned 21 only 6 days before.
I was hungover the next day.
We watched the news.
That's all we did.
I became angry a few days later. College kids seemed really dumb and naive with all their peace rallys.
Pray for peace; but prepare for war. Get real, you know? Get real.
I know the US isn't perfect, any dummy knows THAT. We have a lot to fix. But we're not so bad.
We do what any superpower would-- and I think we're an improvement on those those that have come before.

All I could think was... I couldn't think. My head was empty.
I dwell on it still. Those people high above the plane's impace in the WTC:
they were so high above it. They were looking out the windows-- hundreds of them.
Some jumped. What were they wearing? Who are they?
How did they die? What do you do when you're going to die? Did they know it?
Did they think they'd be saved?
What does it feel like when you start to die?

But I heard a quote somewhere, I can't remember where-- but it was so poignant
and lovely... people call me morbid, but it's not that:
"Only when worldly disaster has worked its utmost, can we realize that there remains
something in a man's soul forever beyond the accidents of existence-- with power
in its own right to make life beautiful."
I don't know.
9/11 changes everything and changes nothing.