Wednesday, September 11, 2002
You know what? I reread that last post. Did you realize that I used the word 'screw' twice in one sentence. That's probably a record for me. A sad, sad record, but a record nonetheless.
I have a cold. It is making me miserable. I really cannot abide being sick, no more than I can abide being hot. And, as you all know, I can abide being hot not at all.
OK... I know that every blog in the world is probably going to be doing September 11th stuff today, but I feel kind of like I ought to. If you really don't want to hear about it anymore, just skip it. There'll be other stuff after it. I promise I won't make this whole thing a 9/11 blog.
September 11th...hm. It does and it doesn't feel like a year. I mean, I can remember exactly where I was and what I was doing that day last year. I remember it was second period, my half-year painting class, when I first heard anything about it... Mrs. Balliro came in from the office with this utterly shocked expression on her face, telling us that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Center buildings... at that point no one in the class could understand why she was so shocked, because we all thought it was just an accident.
I remember sitting in French class with Madame Shanahan listening to that little radio she got from somewhere...all the reports were confused, and no one was sure exactly how many planes had crashed, and the numbers kept on going up and then back down... we heard about the one that crashed in Philadelphia on that radio. I remember Maura coming into French from the hall and telling us that one had hit the Pentagon.
I remember being really mad at Mr. Maccarone, because we had a double lab that day, and he made us do the lab. Later, of course, no one was mad at him, but we were all pretty confused and rather irked at the time.
I remember Mr. Shapiro telling us that everyone in the history department should be following the events of that day, because, like it or not, we were living history right now. I don't think I realized at the time just how right he was. Of course, Mr. Shapiro was usually right, but, at the time, it just didn't strike me how particularily right he was on that count.
Then, of course, I remember going home and sitting in front of the TV in my kitchen and drawing that picture... which now I kind of wish I hadn't drawn because people keep on bugging me to give them copies. Why would anyone want a copy of that? It's depressing... I don't know, I get kind of uncomfortable when I look at it now. See, I usually take the surrealist approach to drawing, which is 'Screw you, symbolism! I'm gonna draw this freaky, weird thing and it isn't going to have a dern-tootin' symbol in it!', but this drawing is obviously heavy on the symbolism...
I don't know, I guess in a way I'm glad I drew it, because that's my way of dealing, you know? Get it all out right then, when I'm sitting there watching the TV, and then just move on... but I still think it's not a picture you want to be looking at all the time. I certainly don't.
Then, of course, I remember being terribly worried about Leslie, because the reports that day were inflated all over the place (which is understandable, given the circumstances... how could anyone expect cooly detatched reporting?). From what we were seeing and hearing, everyone in New York was in danger... but then I heard from her and all was well in that regard.
Anyways. That's the second time today I've rehashed September 11th. That's quite enough for me.
*pause while I regroup my thoughts and regain a more jovial tone*
On a lighter note! 30 Seconds to Mars! In-freaking-credible! I love it! Love! It! Go buy it! Go hear the songs... they only play Capricorn on the radio around here, but pretty much everything else on the CD is glorious listening as well! I will put up their site link on the side when I feel like it. Eventually. Patience, my pet, patience.
Very windy out. Suddenly I hear the shouts of *gasp* small children. I stand up to look out the window. There are two smallish girls, probably aged somewhere around 7. They are walking arm-in-arm down the street. They both have brown hair that whips around in the strong wind. They are laughing and straining against the wind to make their way down the street. I know, I know, me and small children, but hey, they're outside, and I'm inside, so I can regard them with artistic detatchment, rather than powerful dislike.
There they go again. Second time around. Hm.
It had better cool down for tomorrow. I mean it. If it isn't any cooler tomorrow, someone's going to pay. I'm not sure who yet, but someone will pay. They will pay.
Sigh. Once again there is math homework to be done. Once again I am not doing it. I hate math homework. I think that it makes my cold worse. Somehow, whenever I start doing those stupid problems, my nose just gets runnier, and I have to get more tissues, and the work gets slower. Argh. A vicious cycle of noses and tissues and math problems.
Today in French class Stephanie said, "Robert, tu parles trop et tu dis des bêtises. Je te demande de te laver le visage tout de suite." Everyone in the class started laughing, but Stephanie was momentarily confused. In case you are unacquainted with french, that means, "Robert, you talk too much and you say stupid things. I demand that you wash your face right away." It made no sense and was therefore amusing.
Also in French class, a certain person who asked not to be named made the following statements:
"Get away, or I'll strike you down!!"
"Maura, you're a frito!" (This refers to the fact that this anonymous person believes that Maura is 'fried out', and is in the crash-and-burn phase of her high school career. Is she? With those sleeping habits, who knows?)
French class yields many good quotes.
Must run, the nose is running on ahead.