So go and bow your head and weep, for your world won't change while you sleep.
I am not going to cry today.
Am I sad? Not particularly. Am I reverent of those who died and those who still mourn lost ones? Yes. Can I empathize? Yes.
I don't particularly care for the colors red, white, and blue when put together. I never wear pins of any kind. I feel no need to go to a memorial; the tragedy touched me as an American, but not as a family member or serviceman or politician. I will go on living my life, wearing the same clothes, doing the same things, taking some time to reflect on what a transient and precious thing life is, and how I don't want to waste it.
Then I will squander these precious minutes of vitality in starting a history paper. Hurrah.
On a semi-related level, my Italian teacher asked us today (in Italian) what we would do if we only had a year to live.
My short answer: Get married.
My long answer: Marry John in a quiet, low-key, non-religious ceremony with friends and family; leave the University of Alabama; move to Athens, Georgia; take a part-time job (assuming my death wouldn't be from a debilitating disease)or I'd mentor children; take a few trips to see friends and family that are far away: my aunt and uncle in Virginia, my friends in New York City, in California, in Chicago; I'd want my honeymoon to be in Italy.
I mean, I could continue life as I know it here, but I'd only be living a year, and why wouldn't I want to live in the happiest circumstances possible?
I know I'd make a will and leave most of my stuff to my sister, John, and my close friends. This may be a macabre subject, but it's not depressing me. It's quite unlikely anything would happen to shorten my lifespan so drastically.
I'll end this here; I need a nap.
Am I sad? Not particularly. Am I reverent of those who died and those who still mourn lost ones? Yes. Can I empathize? Yes.
I don't particularly care for the colors red, white, and blue when put together. I never wear pins of any kind. I feel no need to go to a memorial; the tragedy touched me as an American, but not as a family member or serviceman or politician. I will go on living my life, wearing the same clothes, doing the same things, taking some time to reflect on what a transient and precious thing life is, and how I don't want to waste it.
Then I will squander these precious minutes of vitality in starting a history paper. Hurrah.
On a semi-related level, my Italian teacher asked us today (in Italian) what we would do if we only had a year to live.
My short answer: Get married.
My long answer: Marry John in a quiet, low-key, non-religious ceremony with friends and family; leave the University of Alabama; move to Athens, Georgia; take a part-time job (assuming my death wouldn't be from a debilitating disease)or I'd mentor children; take a few trips to see friends and family that are far away: my aunt and uncle in Virginia, my friends in New York City, in California, in Chicago; I'd want my honeymoon to be in Italy.
I mean, I could continue life as I know it here, but I'd only be living a year, and why wouldn't I want to live in the happiest circumstances possible?
I know I'd make a will and leave most of my stuff to my sister, John, and my close friends. This may be a macabre subject, but it's not depressing me. It's quite unlikely anything would happen to shorten my lifespan so drastically.
I'll end this here; I need a nap.