10 Years ago today, I was 19 years old. My alarm went off and I rested in bed, trying to decide if I was going to go to my abnormal psychology class, or instead, play hooky, and go into the city to pick up my copy of “Love and Theft”, Bob Dylan’s new album. My mom kept knocking on my door, telling me to get up and look at the news…but I still didn’t get up right away. She said, “A plane has flown into the World Trade Center”, and all I yelled back through my closed bedroom door was, “On purpose?”
From my LiveJournal, 9/11/01:
“In general, I’m not terribly patriotic. I’m usually damning our government about all of the bad things they do to us, and more importantly to others in the world. Today is the first day in my entire life that I have felt patriotic.
I guess tragedy does that to people. I don’t know. For most of the day I kept saying we should blow the bastards up…take out a country…whatever. This is not Alexa-speak. That isn’t what I believe in. That isn’t what’s right. I do believe that no man who is the cause of thousands of lives lost should be allowed to keep his own, but is it our right to kill others? Does it make it better? Will it bring our loved ones back? No. It’s just more terror. More tragedy. More misery.”