Okay, I wasn't going to do this. Well, I was, but then I wasn't. But the more the day goes on, the more I realize how much I'm tired of September 11th. Not because I'm some cold, sick, heartless asshole that doesn't realize what that day meant to a lot of people and their families, and their friends, and a whole chain of people that are affected beyond that. I know this. And as much as I hate to make this particular analogy, I have friends who went through the whole loss of family, the not knowing, the close calls, all that shit. Its hell, plain and simple. A hell that I hope to never know. What went on that day to the people that died, and a larger number that didn't is awful. There are POW's that probably go locked up for 20 years that likely never knew the sort of hell that went on that day.
But this isn't about that. We should all remember those who died, and the effects they had on our country that they weren't even around to see. The wars, the cautiousness on the streets and in the airport, the not knowing who not to trust and when not to trust them, all while being the great land of freedom that we claim to be. Its tough. Those who lost friends and family have every right to come together and mourn this day. Just like those who lose loved ones in other ways, natural and unimaginable, on the anniversary of their loss. Having never lost someone in a less-than-natural way, I can't sympathize, but I understand.
But this isn't about them. This is about the rest of America, or actually the world, who, while rightfully remembering the darkest day of this generation, have used it almost as a contest to see who was more emotionally distraught and affected by the morning of September 11, 2001. I remember almost everything about the day, the waking up to the radio announcing "a plane has reportedly crashed into the World Trade Center", the first thought in my head being a ratty Cessna stuck halfway into the building, thinking "what a fucking idiot! How could you miss the World Freaking Trade Center?", and turning on CNN to see what kind of asshat would fly a plane into a building. Then the shock hit me, but I still had to get to work. Watching all of that while getting ready, and heading in to my tech support job, using the Internet and a few scattered TV's to follow the day, fascinated at what was going on, even more than saddened. The fascination grew as the day, week, months went on. I still think its amazing video to see and recall, and maybe I'm desensitized, but it doesn't really affect me that much.
So with all those thoughts and images and whatever else in my mind, I headed out into the world today, figuring I was going to be editing about a trillion clips of smoking towers, people running, Pentagon crumbling, people crying, flags flying, and everything else associated with that day, and I wasn't totally wrong, but it wasn't that bad. Maurice Clarett has caused much worse days at work in recent months. But the inspiration for this article didn't come from what I saw at work, aside from the occasional comment of self-importance coming from a random New Yorker. (Which I think caused the initial shock of the day two years ago to drift by the wayside more quickly, is the quickness with which the day changed from "America's Tragedy" to "How could they do this to NEW YORK CITY!?!?". Followed by "Look at how much better New York is than you, how we came together during this tragedy and overcame it." I'm glad you did, but news flash, any other major city would have come out of it, help comes from everywhere, and did in the weeks following the attacks. The earth rotates on its axis, not Times Square.)
This inspiration for this rant actually comes from stuff I read online. The Internet is a great thing, allowing people like me to turn random comments to a friend into a bunch of crap for the world to read and hopefully share. But the Internet is also is seemingly a place to give random people (at times, also like me) the freedom to believe that their soapbox is more important. That they're more valid than the next guy, that their feelings mean more. In effect, what today was on the Internet was everyone's chance to out-drama queen the next guy.
The basis of most of this was reading
this thread on Fark. People talking about how they remember the minute they saw what was going on and how they immediately dropped to their knees in tears, and blah, blah, blah. I'm willing to bet that 95% of all of them had the same "what the fuck? this is kinda cool, but fucked up" thought that I did. And I'm sure at least 90% of those stories have been so twisted and embellished in the last two years that the true story is merely a remnant of itself. You know, kind of how you have a good night out, get moderately intoxicated, but still doing all right, but do something kinda stupid? The next day, in the stories of the night before, the three beers you had turned into about 6, then by the time you tell the story a month later, you must have had 8 or 9 that night. Same deal, I'm guessing. Except this time, two years of reflecting on a war (and a half, if you count Afghanistan), and all the changes that have come from that day, and a "holy shit a plane's in the building" attitude turns into "my first thought was that America will rise up to defeat this evil, and with a tear in my eye, and clutching my family tight, we went out and painted our car red, white and blue".
Maybe I haven't made a point in any of this, maybe it wasn't the point to make sense, most blogs never do, but the more I took in the words, pictures and events of this day, the more it got to me, maybe just a little, but it got to me. If mourning this day means so much to you, then it should mean so much more to reflect with those that mean enough to you to protect, not grandstanding to a message board. But that's just my opinion.
I know I'll never forget, I just don't feel the need to explain it to you. Or maybe I already have.
Fuck! I'm one of THEM!!!
