Real Life
After a day of listening to airplanes crashing into government buildings, and claims of potential war, and thousands of people dead, and people across the ocean cheering that someone attacked the u.s. . . .
After a day of trying to work, but not — of trying to figure out whether a trip to Washington, D.C. tomorrow is actually going to happen or not, and even if it does, whether I want to go anyway — of trying to make sense of everything. . . .
I find myself slouched on the futon, drinking a Cðtes du Rhone, watching Hi Fidelity, and thinking, "A breakup would be a good thing right now. The fact that I'm not dating anyone doesn't matter, and if I were dating someone, I wouldn't want to split with her, but I need to feel something — a little pain, a little anything. The rest of the country is in an absolute panic, and I can't even cry — not even about myself." Not even that. Anything.
Tomorrow I'll go back to work, and I'll hear people talking about terrorists and airport security and foreign policy, and worst of all I'll hear about one guy's trip next month to Jersey City, which is nearly New York, and how if this had all happened later there's a chance he might have been close to Manhattan, and so how he's so unfortunate, and that's oh so scary — I can't deal with it. This is a time to care about those who've suffered loss — not to demand pity for our own fear.
After a day of trying to work, but not — of trying to figure out whether a trip to Washington, D.C. tomorrow is actually going to happen or not, and even if it does, whether I want to go anyway — of trying to make sense of everything. . . .
I find myself slouched on the futon, drinking a Cðtes du Rhone, watching Hi Fidelity, and thinking, "A breakup would be a good thing right now. The fact that I'm not dating anyone doesn't matter, and if I were dating someone, I wouldn't want to split with her, but I need to feel something — a little pain, a little anything. The rest of the country is in an absolute panic, and I can't even cry — not even about myself." Not even that. Anything.
Tomorrow I'll go back to work, and I'll hear people talking about terrorists and airport security and foreign policy, and worst of all I'll hear about one guy's trip next month to Jersey City, which is nearly New York, and how if this had all happened later there's a chance he might have been close to Manhattan, and so how he's so unfortunate, and that's oh so scary — I can't deal with it. This is a time to care about those who've suffered loss — not to demand pity for our own fear.