September 11th, 2006


the five year anniversary

I actually listened to September 11 coverage on the radio this morning. I usually avoid it like the plague, but once I started listening it was weird to think about that day and how clear my memories are of it. All the emotions and fears and everything I was thinking comes back like I'm there, even the stuff I didn't write in any journal.

Like, I avoided recording anything about the selfish relief I got from the knowledge that I lived in a remote town that no terrorist had ever heard of. I still have that feeling. And still feel sort of bad about it, like I enjoy hiding.

And I can't find anything about how I changed the main page of for a week to put up a link to the Amnesty international website, and another unrelated one that called for peace and clarity in judgement. People everywhere were freaking me out, how drastic they wanted to be. Okay, they still do. Maybe that's why the feelings don't seem too far off.

I was mad that the guy in the dorm above me hung an American flag out his window and left it there for weeks, even at night, in the rain, whatever, you're supposed to take them in unless they're lit. I never said anything to him. He'd already made some comment about how he knew it was against the rules to hang stuff out your window but if anyone wanted him to take in his American flag they could go live with the taliban, or something.

I was mad about the taliban, period, but only because it took domestic terrorism for us to go in and remove them from power. They terrorized a lot more women in their own country for years before that but nobody cared.

I wrote a lot about how my faith in society as a whole, with its stable economy and long-term plans in place for everybody, was so much more fragile than I'd imagined.

Maybe I shouldn't be writing about all this now, since I'm one more on the bandwagon, don't know anyone in New York, all that. I'll keep it private.