Remember
This day always does weird things to me (for me?). I've spent parts of the morning in tears--just random things will set me off and I'll be a weeping mess until I can force myself to stop--the flag flying half-mast at the Whataburger, for example, or hearing that A&M is putting out 8,000 American Flags around campus, both brought me to tears this morning. This is what I get for being over-emotional. The fact that I didn't get much sleep last night and that I'm home alone in a quiet house may have something to do with my mood, too.
The thing is, I know i don't have to worry about me forgetting. I can't. This was one of those defining moments for me, like people say the assassination of JFK was, or the Challenger Explosion, where if you were asked, you could tell someone exactly how you heard, where you were, what you were thinking and wearing and doing. And so I've been trying to think about what to write. But then ohginnyfan posted with a link to one of her previous entries about the day, and I went back to look at my archives. And I realized I've already written something that expresses my feelings about this. This is from September 11th, 2004. The first part is a quote from a comment I made in someone's journal, and the second part is my response to what I wrote.
...The fact that I actually went to the WTC (and ate there), that my dad used to work in the Pentagon--that places that I've actually been to and seen and touched were destroyed--that's what really brought the whole thing home to me. I know that we (Americans) are sheltered when it comes to this kind of stuff. It's very easy for me to go about my boring, safe little life and think, "It can never happen to me," and ignore all the innocent people all over the world that it did happen to--that it does happen to. ...It's not something I'm terribly proud of.
One good thing (if you can call it that) that came out of 9/11, for me at least, is that I can't sit in my safe, boring little world and think "It can never happen to me," while I ignore all of the people that it is happening to. I'm much more aware that these kind of things go on all over the world every day. I wish that it didn't happen--I wish that things like this never happened to anyone--but since it did, I'm glad that I could at least learn something from it.
Part of what made this day hard for me is that I still had normal mommy-type things to do. I did laundry, cooked dinner, cleaned the kitchen, took Andy to get his picture taken for soccer. I played with the dogs and the bunny, pushed Luke on the swing, listened to the Aggies win a football game. I read the forums at PS and TIP and TBC and TFL. I read some fics. I took a nap. So what made it hard, you ask? Part of me was thinking that it was wrong of me to be doing all these normal things. I felt guilty that I still can do these normal kinds of things. I felt like I should have been doing more. I don't know what else I could have been doing, but that's how I felt.
Thinking about it some more, though, I realize that just living my life as normally as possibly is doing something. It's not being afraid, and it's not letting the people who do stuff like this win.
And that's enough navel-gazing for now.
The thing is, I know i don't have to worry about me forgetting. I can't. This was one of those defining moments for me, like people say the assassination of JFK was, or the Challenger Explosion, where if you were asked, you could tell someone exactly how you heard, where you were, what you were thinking and wearing and doing. And so I've been trying to think about what to write. But then ohginnyfan posted with a link to one of her previous entries about the day, and I went back to look at my archives. And I realized I've already written something that expresses my feelings about this. This is from September 11th, 2004. The first part is a quote from a comment I made in someone's journal, and the second part is my response to what I wrote.
...The fact that I actually went to the WTC (and ate there), that my dad used to work in the Pentagon--that places that I've actually been to and seen and touched were destroyed--that's what really brought the whole thing home to me. I know that we (Americans) are sheltered when it comes to this kind of stuff. It's very easy for me to go about my boring, safe little life and think, "It can never happen to me," and ignore all the innocent people all over the world that it did happen to--that it does happen to. ...It's not something I'm terribly proud of.
One good thing (if you can call it that) that came out of 9/11, for me at least, is that I can't sit in my safe, boring little world and think "It can never happen to me," while I ignore all of the people that it is happening to. I'm much more aware that these kind of things go on all over the world every day. I wish that it didn't happen--I wish that things like this never happened to anyone--but since it did, I'm glad that I could at least learn something from it.
Part of what made this day hard for me is that I still had normal mommy-type things to do. I did laundry, cooked dinner, cleaned the kitchen, took Andy to get his picture taken for soccer. I played with the dogs and the bunny, pushed Luke on the swing, listened to the Aggies win a football game. I read the forums at PS and TIP and TBC and TFL. I read some fics. I took a nap. So what made it hard, you ask? Part of me was thinking that it was wrong of me to be doing all these normal things. I felt guilty that I still can do these normal kinds of things. I felt like I should have been doing more. I don't know what else I could have been doing, but that's how I felt.
Thinking about it some more, though, I realize that just living my life as normally as possibly is doing something. It's not being afraid, and it's not letting the people who do stuff like this win.
And that's enough navel-gazing for now.