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kjpepperJust for poops and ha has, I pulled out my old green journal to see what I had written if anything about September 11th. I was amused to find a couple of long rambly entries dated that day written in the wee hours of the night beforehand ranting about other stuff, meaning that I had gotten to bed around 3am the night previous. Very ironically, the first one dated 9/11 starts with "Well, this day was nothing if not the epitome of evil." The funny part is that it was dated 9/11, 1 am, so clearly I was talking about the day before, and the evil quite personal one. (apparently I was also sick then too, plus Carole had gotten hit by a car while on her bike - not seriously hurt, but bruised up quite a bit.) Even funnier was that the date was wrong, further reading reveals that this is actually September 10th's entry, and as I was wont to do when I was still keeping paper journals, I had bolloxed up the date.
There is a short bit written that evening, then another 3am ramble about personal hellaciousness, and then one dated 12:32 pm that has a few terse sentences describing what happened, and then something along the lines of "WTF is wrong with people???" and a grumble about how they'd chosen their targets poorly. (not reprinting it, since the FBI's probably reading.)
There isn't anything until September 20th because apparently I hadn't had a chance to write. But that entry is interesting... I wrote about the sudden rash of American flags everywhere in the days past, and how all the flags on actual poles were probably never going to be raised from half staff again, and how the country's shock had thawed to war-hungry rage and how much that scared fuck all out of me. I knew more people in the military back then than I do now, and that was BEFORE![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
timarok enlisted. I'd forgotten that Jim Blau had volunteered to dig survivors out of the rubble. And though it's had occasion to reiterate itself since then, I am rather amused at how vehemently annoyed I was by my fellow humans, including a few that were close to me, for their attitudes post attack. I'd forgotten how scary it was. All that rage... coming from everywhere. And me thinking, shit, haven't enough fucking people died? This was still when the projected death tolls were still above 8,000... I suppose revenge is part of human nature, but DAMN.
It's always interesting, that 20/20 hindsight thing. That and the realization that I was a lot angrier in my paper journals, or maybe just expressing it more cause no one was reading.
K, shutting up now.
There is a short bit written that evening, then another 3am ramble about personal hellaciousness, and then one dated 12:32 pm that has a few terse sentences describing what happened, and then something along the lines of "WTF is wrong with people???" and a grumble about how they'd chosen their targets poorly. (not reprinting it, since the FBI's probably reading.)
There isn't anything until September 20th because apparently I hadn't had a chance to write. But that entry is interesting... I wrote about the sudden rash of American flags everywhere in the days past, and how all the flags on actual poles were probably never going to be raised from half staff again, and how the country's shock had thawed to war-hungry rage and how much that scared fuck all out of me. I knew more people in the military back then than I do now, and that was BEFORE
timarok enlisted. I'd forgotten that Jim Blau had volunteered to dig survivors out of the rubble. And though it's had occasion to reiterate itself since then, I am rather amused at how vehemently annoyed I was by my fellow humans, including a few that were close to me, for their attitudes post attack. I'd forgotten how scary it was. All that rage... coming from everywhere. And me thinking, shit, haven't enough fucking people died? This was still when the projected death tolls were still above 8,000... I suppose revenge is part of human nature, but DAMN. It's always interesting, that 20/20 hindsight thing. That and the realization that I was a lot angrier in my paper journals, or maybe just expressing it more cause no one was reading.
K, shutting up now.
