![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elvendoll...there is so much trying to overboil out of me. i still feel so out of my water. a part of me can't figure out whats wrong with me that i can't let go... and a part wonders how anyone else can... i went to MR tonight, and it felt so awkward, so wrong to be dressing up for the club. inside, i had expected so many more people - the place was nearly empty for most of the night. i had one drink, and it relaxed me enough to dance to a couple of songs and socialize a little, but as soon as it wore off, it felt wrong to be there again.. *sigh*
i keep thinking back to the night we left russia. at 2am moscow time, my father came to our house in a taxi, to go with me and my grandmother to the airport. my mom and grandfather had been there since 9pm. i don't know why my grandmother thought i could fall asleep at a time like that, but she urged me to keep looking out the windows - that this is nighttime moscow, that it is so beautiful, and that i may never see it again. if i close my eyes, i can still see those images, its almost like they're mental photographs, kept in an emotional box for posterity.
it must've been 9am before we boarded the plane (in the US, they knew a day early it was going to be delayed, but in russia, they wouldn't tell us till the last minute), and in total, the flight lasted 13 hours - 9 in the air, and 2 hour stops in ireland and iceland. by the end of it, i, a 10 year old, was emotionally and physically exhausted. after we landed, customs took another 5 hours. by the time we came out, and got into the car, i asked if there was going to be food where we were going and passed out.
my mom woke me up what seemed like moments after i fell asleep. we were on the verazzano bridge, and she was pointing out the new york skyline and the twin towers, and how gorgeous it all is.
i can still see that mental image too - the crispness of seeing something great for the very first time - no matter how used you can become to something (at least for me) the initial reaction of awe is still stored in memory.
only bringing back that memory, it feels off. like if the other one had been kept in a pretty box, this one had just been left in a corner to gather dust... the twins, over the past 12 years of my life, had become a part of it, and i stopped thinking of that mental image as unique & special.
i remember so many times of taking the PATH into WTC. being there with my mother, my stepdad, his mother, a few family friends. i remember being there with sarah lutz, who i have not spoken to in years, with liz, who is now in air force basic training. i remember buying sandals for my mom there when the shoes she wore into the city gave her blisters, having lunch there with my stepdad's mom, being taken to see the nutcracker there, the three times i went up to the observation deck - with my stepdad's mom, with my JH friend eve and her mom, and with liz. i can visualize, though fuzzily, walking through the halls, seeing the signs, etc. for more years then not, my stepdad and both his parents worked either in the WTC itself or within blocks of it.
and now it feels like someone took a knife and sliced away a part of my reality... a part of the physical world i totally absorbed and took to be, in a way, my own.
the thought of the carnage that is in the debris scares me. thr thought of how many people are missing loved ones scares me. i keep thinking about how during the 1989 earthquake in armenia, survivors were found in rubble up to a week later to keep hope... i don't care that noone i personally care for in there - they're people like the ones you see going past you on the streets... they're people
by now it seems obvious no country is responsible for this... there is no country to wage war against. at first, this angered me. it isn't a pretty thought, but it was that taking out a terrorist or two will certainly not satisfy the rage. that only blowing another country to smithereens could possibly fulfill the desire for retribution. with time, i have come to realize that no amount of retaliation will fill the void that is left by the damage that was done.
i get angry anytime someone mentions having seen the WTC 'for the lst time'. i want those towers rebuilt. i want no sign of defeat, i want determination to restore our world.
and then i am scared. things like what tobi saw at her school today. it makes me feel scared, vulnerable, nauseated and disgusted. i grew up in a country where anti-semetism was status quo, and remember what its like to be looked at as sub-human. from being called names to the way the look in someone's eyes would change when they found out. racism against anyone infuriates me. close-mindedness makes me shake inside. i was absolutely furious at the boston.com headline about a boston cabbie connection. i am sure tons of information is being kept from us - why release information that can get innocent people harmed?!
thinking of all these things, of how much information about this we may never know, of how much background bullshit must be going on ( like the fact that russian newspapers are reporting that they knew about this 2 weeks ago and wan=rned US intelligence) makes me feel like maybe yesterday was a better day then today. that maybe its better in NY, where everyone's thoughts are more of mourning and sympathy then panic and rage.
and no, knowing that a large portion of this was brewed within miles of here does not add to the situation.
i keep thinking back to the night we left russia. at 2am moscow time, my father came to our house in a taxi, to go with me and my grandmother to the airport. my mom and grandfather had been there since 9pm. i don't know why my grandmother thought i could fall asleep at a time like that, but she urged me to keep looking out the windows - that this is nighttime moscow, that it is so beautiful, and that i may never see it again. if i close my eyes, i can still see those images, its almost like they're mental photographs, kept in an emotional box for posterity.
it must've been 9am before we boarded the plane (in the US, they knew a day early it was going to be delayed, but in russia, they wouldn't tell us till the last minute), and in total, the flight lasted 13 hours - 9 in the air, and 2 hour stops in ireland and iceland. by the end of it, i, a 10 year old, was emotionally and physically exhausted. after we landed, customs took another 5 hours. by the time we came out, and got into the car, i asked if there was going to be food where we were going and passed out.
my mom woke me up what seemed like moments after i fell asleep. we were on the verazzano bridge, and she was pointing out the new york skyline and the twin towers, and how gorgeous it all is.
i can still see that mental image too - the crispness of seeing something great for the very first time - no matter how used you can become to something (at least for me) the initial reaction of awe is still stored in memory.
only bringing back that memory, it feels off. like if the other one had been kept in a pretty box, this one had just been left in a corner to gather dust... the twins, over the past 12 years of my life, had become a part of it, and i stopped thinking of that mental image as unique & special.
i remember so many times of taking the PATH into WTC. being there with my mother, my stepdad, his mother, a few family friends. i remember being there with sarah lutz, who i have not spoken to in years, with liz, who is now in air force basic training. i remember buying sandals for my mom there when the shoes she wore into the city gave her blisters, having lunch there with my stepdad's mom, being taken to see the nutcracker there, the three times i went up to the observation deck - with my stepdad's mom, with my JH friend eve and her mom, and with liz. i can visualize, though fuzzily, walking through the halls, seeing the signs, etc. for more years then not, my stepdad and both his parents worked either in the WTC itself or within blocks of it.
and now it feels like someone took a knife and sliced away a part of my reality... a part of the physical world i totally absorbed and took to be, in a way, my own.
the thought of the carnage that is in the debris scares me. thr thought of how many people are missing loved ones scares me. i keep thinking about how during the 1989 earthquake in armenia, survivors were found in rubble up to a week later to keep hope... i don't care that noone i personally care for in there - they're people like the ones you see going past you on the streets... they're people
by now it seems obvious no country is responsible for this... there is no country to wage war against. at first, this angered me. it isn't a pretty thought, but it was that taking out a terrorist or two will certainly not satisfy the rage. that only blowing another country to smithereens could possibly fulfill the desire for retribution. with time, i have come to realize that no amount of retaliation will fill the void that is left by the damage that was done.
i get angry anytime someone mentions having seen the WTC 'for the lst time'. i want those towers rebuilt. i want no sign of defeat, i want determination to restore our world.
and then i am scared. things like what tobi saw at her school today. it makes me feel scared, vulnerable, nauseated and disgusted. i grew up in a country where anti-semetism was status quo, and remember what its like to be looked at as sub-human. from being called names to the way the look in someone's eyes would change when they found out. racism against anyone infuriates me. close-mindedness makes me shake inside. i was absolutely furious at the boston.com headline about a boston cabbie connection. i am sure tons of information is being kept from us - why release information that can get innocent people harmed?!
thinking of all these things, of how much information about this we may never know, of how much background bullshit must be going on ( like the fact that russian newspapers are reporting that they knew about this 2 weeks ago and wan=rned US intelligence) makes me feel like maybe yesterday was a better day then today. that maybe its better in NY, where everyone's thoughts are more of mourning and sympathy then panic and rage.
and no, knowing that a large portion of this was brewed within miles of here does not add to the situation.
