Seven Years Ago, Today
Everyone remembers Tuesday, September 11, 2001 for one reason or another. Like the Kennedy Assassination, everyone remembers where they were when that piece of history was made. I remember that day well, but not for the same reasons others remember.
Tuesday happened to be one of my "light days" that semester. All of my college classes were on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I recall the hours I spent generating my schedule, so I had Tuesdays and Thursdays to study, clean, rest... whatever. I did take a church institute/religion class in the mornings, so I wasn't tempted to squander my day sleeping. I'm also fairly certain that this was my last year not having to work while I went to school-- my 'rents helped me pay for half my school that semester, and I'd spent all summer working to earn what I could for school. This was also the last year my 'rents were helping me out by periodically giving me food money.
That fateful morning, my alarm went off and I rolled out of bed. At the time, I'd had my Abdominal Vericose Veins for about 5 months-- though, I was undiagnosed at this time. Just to give you an idea of what that's like... Every movement you make that stretches your guts and it hurts like a spiked club being rammed into your abdomen and then twisted for added emphasis. This includes, but is not limited to actions such as sneezing, stretching and coughing. You're also constantly producing bile so you're hungry or sick all the time. Too much bile and you feel like you've been punched in the stomach (which is generally how I woke up every morning during this time of my life). Needless to say, when I woke up on Tuesday, September 11, 2001 my first instinct was to haul tail to the bathroom in my wing of Graham/Greenlee (on 4th Street and Highland) where I vomited yellow bile, which severely burnt my throat.
That's when I first heard about the World Trade Center. I eavesdropped on a conversation between two Freshmen girls who lived in my wing-- "OMG, did you hear about the WTC? Some airplane flew into one building." "No. Way." (Yes, think "Valley Girl" because they were blondes, rushing a sorority, and really talked like that.) I was a bit non-plussed, but relayed the information to my roommate, Jessica, when I got back into the room. We turned on the TV and lo and behold, there was one of the twin towers with smoke billowing from the upper stories as people in the building leaned out windows. (This was before the second tower was struck.)
I took a moment to gawk at the news, but got my things together for class. My general feelings at that time were, "Man, that sucks." Followed by, "It doesn't change anything for me. I'm 2000 miles away and the world is still turning." So... off I went to class.
On the walk to class, I heard snippets of conversation about the tragedy as I swiftly traversed around the mall construction to the institute building on 2nd Street. When I got to class, everyone was a-buzz about it. There were comments ranging from "They should cancel classes" to "How terrible that is" to "This will make the history books". All I could think about was how I was already sick of hearing about it. Apathy was my friend those days because caring made me stress, which made me hurt. Besides, there was nothing I could have done to help people thousands of miles away. All I could do was keep on keeping on. I had things to do and my side of the world wasn't going to stop progressing because of some sucky disaster somewhere else. Yeah, it was bad... but life goes on.
... and so my life went on.
When I got back from class, my roommate told me another airplane had crashed into the other tower before she went to class. "Another one? You have to be joking." The pentagon crash hadn't happened yet. Though, conspiracy theories were starting to form. People blaming the President, terrorists, etc....
Tuesday was laundry day, so I gathered my clothes and hauled it all down to the washers. Two hours later, I folded it and generally zoned out the Trade Center saga. I had homework to finish. So I got started on it. I wasn't too far into it when I was graced with the "blue screen of death"... and when I went to reboot I got an error. Fantastic. Everything I'd worked on was gone, gone, GONE. Suddenly, despair, frustration, and stress settled on me. I had to get my computer up and running... and FAST. I needed someone to talk to, so I high-tailed it through 2-wings to Opal and Michele's room. Michele was having drama of her own-- her computer monitor had died. That helped me put a little perspective on the situation. It also helped ease my nerves looking at their hot-magazine-guy-cutout-bedecked ceiling. Michele had the news on and the WTC scenes played over and over and over again.
At some point, I believe I called Ted (the boy I was seeing at the time) over. He was able to get my data off the drive-- except for whatever was on my desktop. He reformatted and reloaded my data. I can't recall if I bought a new drive then or waited 'till the drive went ka-put for good... but that drama alone kept me busy all day.
So when people say "remember 9/11"... I remember my own personal tragedies of that day. I also remember how students on campus were using it as an excuse not to attend classes that week... and that pissed me off more than hearing about the damned thing over and over and over and over and over again. Though it was fun to have the big boards posted around the mall's construction fences so people could record their thoughts.
Still... I believe I was more impacted by the Monday, October 28, 2002 shooting during mid-terms at the College of Nursing... and even then, I wasn't there and life goes on.
Tuesday happened to be one of my "light days" that semester. All of my college classes were on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I recall the hours I spent generating my schedule, so I had Tuesdays and Thursdays to study, clean, rest... whatever. I did take a church institute/religion class in the mornings, so I wasn't tempted to squander my day sleeping. I'm also fairly certain that this was my last year not having to work while I went to school-- my 'rents helped me pay for half my school that semester, and I'd spent all summer working to earn what I could for school. This was also the last year my 'rents were helping me out by periodically giving me food money.
That fateful morning, my alarm went off and I rolled out of bed. At the time, I'd had my Abdominal Vericose Veins for about 5 months-- though, I was undiagnosed at this time. Just to give you an idea of what that's like... Every movement you make that stretches your guts and it hurts like a spiked club being rammed into your abdomen and then twisted for added emphasis. This includes, but is not limited to actions such as sneezing, stretching and coughing. You're also constantly producing bile so you're hungry or sick all the time. Too much bile and you feel like you've been punched in the stomach (which is generally how I woke up every morning during this time of my life). Needless to say, when I woke up on Tuesday, September 11, 2001 my first instinct was to haul tail to the bathroom in my wing of Graham/Greenlee (on 4th Street and Highland) where I vomited yellow bile, which severely burnt my throat.
That's when I first heard about the World Trade Center. I eavesdropped on a conversation between two Freshmen girls who lived in my wing-- "OMG, did you hear about the WTC? Some airplane flew into one building." "No. Way." (Yes, think "Valley Girl" because they were blondes, rushing a sorority, and really talked like that.) I was a bit non-plussed, but relayed the information to my roommate, Jessica, when I got back into the room. We turned on the TV and lo and behold, there was one of the twin towers with smoke billowing from the upper stories as people in the building leaned out windows. (This was before the second tower was struck.)
I took a moment to gawk at the news, but got my things together for class. My general feelings at that time were, "Man, that sucks." Followed by, "It doesn't change anything for me. I'm 2000 miles away and the world is still turning." So... off I went to class.
On the walk to class, I heard snippets of conversation about the tragedy as I swiftly traversed around the mall construction to the institute building on 2nd Street. When I got to class, everyone was a-buzz about it. There were comments ranging from "They should cancel classes" to "How terrible that is" to "This will make the history books". All I could think about was how I was already sick of hearing about it. Apathy was my friend those days because caring made me stress, which made me hurt. Besides, there was nothing I could have done to help people thousands of miles away. All I could do was keep on keeping on. I had things to do and my side of the world wasn't going to stop progressing because of some sucky disaster somewhere else. Yeah, it was bad... but life goes on.
... and so my life went on.
When I got back from class, my roommate told me another airplane had crashed into the other tower before she went to class. "Another one? You have to be joking." The pentagon crash hadn't happened yet. Though, conspiracy theories were starting to form. People blaming the President, terrorists, etc....
Tuesday was laundry day, so I gathered my clothes and hauled it all down to the washers. Two hours later, I folded it and generally zoned out the Trade Center saga. I had homework to finish. So I got started on it. I wasn't too far into it when I was graced with the "blue screen of death"... and when I went to reboot I got an error. Fantastic. Everything I'd worked on was gone, gone, GONE. Suddenly, despair, frustration, and stress settled on me. I had to get my computer up and running... and FAST. I needed someone to talk to, so I high-tailed it through 2-wings to Opal and Michele's room. Michele was having drama of her own-- her computer monitor had died. That helped me put a little perspective on the situation. It also helped ease my nerves looking at their hot-magazine-guy-cutout-bedecked ceiling. Michele had the news on and the WTC scenes played over and over and over again.
At some point, I believe I called Ted (the boy I was seeing at the time) over. He was able to get my data off the drive-- except for whatever was on my desktop. He reformatted and reloaded my data. I can't recall if I bought a new drive then or waited 'till the drive went ka-put for good... but that drama alone kept me busy all day.
So when people say "remember 9/11"... I remember my own personal tragedies of that day. I also remember how students on campus were using it as an excuse not to attend classes that week... and that pissed me off more than hearing about the damned thing over and over and over and over and over again. Though it was fun to have the big boards posted around the mall's construction fences so people could record their thoughts.
Still... I believe I was more impacted by the Monday, October 28, 2002 shooting during mid-terms at the College of Nursing... and even then, I wasn't there and life goes on.