I am...a New Yorker

[Previous entry: "Rememberng"]

Wednesday, September 19, 2001

Ambulance and Firetruck sirens and nearly jumpng out of my skn.

My laundry...it seems like forever snce I did that.

"From now on, time will be divided between before the World Trade Center attack and after."
-Woman on the street

"I have never n my life been so contnuously sad for so long."
-Elderly woman on the elevator

Still tired and sick, but less of a fever. I'm also less surprised to be alive. Maybe that's bad, maybe it was better to be so aware, maybe that made me more thankful.

The Petition Site
Here is what I said:

In New York, we now live n fear. I never thought I'd live to see the day when our Beirut office would send condolences for terrorist attacks here. Now we know how the rest of the world lives; I'm sorry it took somethng so drastic. Martn Luther Kng Jr. said, "Riot is the language of the unheard." Now that the terrorists have our attention, it's time the U.S. addresses the horrific results of our foreign policy. We've exported hate and weaponry for too long, it's time to export peace.

Maybe the activist n me isn't gone yet.

Like crazy. I have never n my life had so much to do. I don't yet have sick time (and couldn't take a day off if I could after last week, but I was behnd anyway), I'm n a friggn' hallway and now my boss is gettng frustrated with me. There have to be jobs out there between goofng out onlne all day (though I'd gladly take it!) and workng 10 hours a day without breaks and still beng threatened with termnation. Deja vu, anyone?

Like I need a new muffler. My cold is n the "hackng cough" stage. I'm optimistic this means it's leavng my body. It's startng to really disturb people.

I am...still muddlng through the days, daze, haze.

People are askng for souveneirs and bits of the WTC, like this is some sort of amusement park. I used to say NY was like an amusement park for adults, but the WTC disaster site shouldn't be an attraction to anyone.

I'm not much n the mood to write today. Work is really wearng me out and with the whole period, cold and oh yeah war n my town, I don't have a lot of extra to give right now. Everyone is quieter, run down, sad. I was happy at least to hear people on the news, especially visitors, talk about how great New Yorkers are. The stereotype is so false and that was our little secret.

I wonder if it's ever not gong to be the man thng I write about? Part of me hopes so very much. Part of me feels like other thngs are nconsequential and ridiculous by comparison. I certanly hope this is the worst thng I'm ever this close to. All the missng signs everywhere and the alters n front of St. Vncent and the fire stations are just too much.

I want to remember, I wish I could forget.

[Next entry: "Workng Late"]
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