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Sep. 11th, 2002 01:01 pmThe press is starting to feel a bit more normal after a sort of eerie morning. It was strangely quiet even here in the library, where it's always fairly quiet, yet it was hard to concentrate as the September breeze and the tones of the bell tower came in my window a little before 9.
I know that many people have used a lot of words talking and writing about last September 11, and I know that a lot of people are tired of hearing it. I, for one, have tried to stay out of those conversations for the most part. It still astounds me that people can be so verbose about the topic. I haven't been able to find words that even begin to express how I feel. I keep thinking about Dr. Patteson's contemporary lit class, when I heard the first discussion of postmodernism that made any sense. We talked a lot about the post-WWII realization that language is hopelessly, even laughably impotent in the face of the atomic bomb and the Holocaust. While it made sense intellectually, I didn't fully understand the notion until last year.
I'm not saying that last year's attacks were as bad as the atomic bomb or the Holocaust. I'm not saying that unthinkable atrocities don't happen all over the world or that the United States isn't guilty of a lot of them. But right or wrong, and perhaps because of my own ignorance, none of those things has affected me like this. And I'm not saying that the effect on me is in any way significant. It feels significant, but I know better; in fact, the notion is ridiculous when you think of someone who was in one of those towers or planes, or someone who lost a loved one, or even someone who watched the chaos from nearby.
Yet still I wonder why I am still prone to late-night bouts of futilely trying to wrap my head around the whole deal. I wonder how it would have hit me had I not spent most of the summer in New York, if it hadn't been my first time there, if I hadn't fallen so in love with the city. Would the attacks have affected me the same way if I hadn't taken a boat ride around the southern tip of Manhattan on August 11 and remarked to my mom, "Can you imagine the chaos that would have ensued if those things had come down when they were bombed?" I think certainly they would have, but I can't help but wonder. As ashamed as I feel to admit it, the Oklahoma City bombing didn't faze me. I thought it was unfortunate, but it really didn't make me think. Of course, I was in such a state at the time that I didn't give a shit about much at all. Maybe it would have been different if it had happened at another time. I don't know.
So, yeah--I don't know. About any of it. So basically what I do these days is avoid reading the news beyond the headlines, and I don't flip over to CNN even momentarily. I am woefully uninformed about any of the recent news concerning Iraq. That's not a noble stance, and I'm not especially proud of it. Maybe I won't be like that forever. I don't know.
I know that many people have used a lot of words talking and writing about last September 11, and I know that a lot of people are tired of hearing it. I, for one, have tried to stay out of those conversations for the most part. It still astounds me that people can be so verbose about the topic. I haven't been able to find words that even begin to express how I feel. I keep thinking about Dr. Patteson's contemporary lit class, when I heard the first discussion of postmodernism that made any sense. We talked a lot about the post-WWII realization that language is hopelessly, even laughably impotent in the face of the atomic bomb and the Holocaust. While it made sense intellectually, I didn't fully understand the notion until last year.
I'm not saying that last year's attacks were as bad as the atomic bomb or the Holocaust. I'm not saying that unthinkable atrocities don't happen all over the world or that the United States isn't guilty of a lot of them. But right or wrong, and perhaps because of my own ignorance, none of those things has affected me like this. And I'm not saying that the effect on me is in any way significant. It feels significant, but I know better; in fact, the notion is ridiculous when you think of someone who was in one of those towers or planes, or someone who lost a loved one, or even someone who watched the chaos from nearby.
Yet still I wonder why I am still prone to late-night bouts of futilely trying to wrap my head around the whole deal. I wonder how it would have hit me had I not spent most of the summer in New York, if it hadn't been my first time there, if I hadn't fallen so in love with the city. Would the attacks have affected me the same way if I hadn't taken a boat ride around the southern tip of Manhattan on August 11 and remarked to my mom, "Can you imagine the chaos that would have ensued if those things had come down when they were bombed?" I think certainly they would have, but I can't help but wonder. As ashamed as I feel to admit it, the Oklahoma City bombing didn't faze me. I thought it was unfortunate, but it really didn't make me think. Of course, I was in such a state at the time that I didn't give a shit about much at all. Maybe it would have been different if it had happened at another time. I don't know.
So, yeah--I don't know. About any of it. So basically what I do these days is avoid reading the news beyond the headlines, and I don't flip over to CNN even momentarily. I am woefully uninformed about any of the recent news concerning Iraq. That's not a noble stance, and I'm not especially proud of it. Maybe I won't be like that forever. I don't know.
