So - because of my blogging hiatus - I've decided to make up for it by bringing entries from my old blog & journal over here. I look back at the things I've written sometimes and wonder - wow - did I really write that?? I'd love to share them with you guys.
I'll leave them in their original state - preserve the memories...
As I sit here watching the footage, new thoughts enter my mind. It's all a jumble, mixed in with fresh tears and old thoughts. I just watched the first building collapse, for the first time in seven years. I have never allowed myself to watch all the footage - because it was still too new. It still is.
As the ashes and metal curdle beneath the flames, my mother begins to sob. So do I. Thousands of people. Stuck in a building in hundred-degree heat. My mind races to the thought of being trapped, knowing my life is over. Watching the second building fall, the smoke billowing for blocks, chasing anyone who is unfortunate enough to be caught on the street.
This is sickening.
Hearing the firefighters calls for help, how can a civilian feel when our help needs help? It brings a human element to even Superman.
I stop and think.
That could have been me.
I shopped there every weekend. Doctor Johnson's office was in the Lincoln Building, just blocks away, 60 E 42nd St, New York, NY 10165. My cousin Tracy, her usual late self, was fifteen minutes late for work, riding on the subway, when the first tower was hit. She saw the flames as she emerged from the tunnel. Can you imagine? Some of us don't have to -we have lost loved ones, friends, acquaintances in this tragedy.
I remember pulling out my cell phone, frantically trying to contact my family members. "Emergency Calls Only" flashed on my Cingular screen. This was an emergency. I couldn't get through to anyone. Little did I know, my mother was trying to call me, too. They paged me to the office, and I got to speak to her. Tears of relief. Some of us weren't so lucky. Two Middle Eastern girls lost their father.
I can't believe this happened in my lifetime. Older people talk about the wars, the momentous events that took place in their youth, their adulthood even. I lived to see a terrorist attack. I experienced it. I felt the devastation! This is terrifying.
People run to this country to escape the terrorism they experience in their own homelands. Where do we run to? My eyes have been opened, and I have experienced an epiphany of a magnitude that may never happen again. This country is flawed. This world is flawed, and convoluted.
Oh my God. I just watched the second plane actually fly into building two. Bathroom.
The only way this world will be saved from certain destruction, is if each individual realizes that there is no issue big enough for mass murder. There is no conflict that can justify the death of mothers, fathers, children. None.
We are fighting a war that will never bring victory. We are living in a time when one man and his colleagues can determine the
No longer can we walk around blindly living our lives, not realizing that are lives are being lived for us. Choices are being made for us. One day we will all wake up and someone else will be deciding what we wear, where we go - who we talk to. Then, it will be too late.
I look around at my peers and notice that not many of them talk about politics. I wonder how many of them realize that politics are what caused 9/11, politics are what will cause the next great catastrophe. Next time, they may not be blessed enough to be at home watching it on t.v. - they may be right in the middle.
Wake up, people. This is real.
New York til I die. "
Ugh. That still shakes me to this day. Nevertheless - proud to say I lived through such a momentous event. I appreciate life that much more {{stretches arms to capacity}}
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