[BACKGROUND] written in LJ on the eve of the fifth anniversary of september eleventh.
[PURPOSE] N/A. rumination, in all likelihood.
"UNTITLED 1 (091006)"
i don't feel good.
the newspaper is littered with tributes and commemorations and various regarding september eleventh. i wasn't personally affected by it, thankfully, but i don't know... i think the world is taking two steps back rather than advancing. we have people who still hate, and they now have the means to express the hate in considerably more bigger and catastrophic ways. i might have a rudimentary delineation of it, but in prehistoric times, cavemen just charged at one another with sticks (there has to be some accuracy in that). hurray for the twenty-first century and its nuclear weapons. it's another feat we can thank america for, along with potato chips and microwaves.
i was nigh on puerile when it happened, unmindful of the implications, and my dad worked in manhattan at the time. he watched the planes fly into the towers, and i wonder if he's been emotionally scarred since. as far as i'm concerned, nothing drastic actually happened to him, but i've seen enough images in my few years that have hurt me with every day. concerning 911, i never asked him how he's doing, but i hope he's well. he doesn't know this exists, but for some reason, i think if i write that down on livejournal, he'll know i'm thinking about it and tell me it's okay.
i'd like to believe i don't hate anything or anybody (and last year, i came real close to hating this kid, derrick trejillos, but i don't see him anymore, and i guess you can't hate something you can't see. so, in reality, i've never really hated). however, i can't help but be frightened when people i know and love are in new york city or on an airplane. i hate (...) how such thoughts cross my mind almost weekly, if not daily, and i abhor those responsible for these thoughts. i don't pride myself in being well-informed in the grand scheme of things, but something tells me we weren't supposed to live in relentless fear of having our beloveds detonated.
it's strange how it's so hard to speak sometimes. i never used to have difficulties talking about anything, but through the years, i've developed -- i don't know, concern? it's not the actual words that are hard to say, but it's for fear of the aftermath. come what may, words can change a relationship forever. i used to always immediately speak what was on my mind, but now i consider the repercussions, and i don't know if i prefer that. is it better to harbor ancient thoughts (and in my case, eventually forget them and so never say them) or jeopardize a dear affiliation? i think i'll have to ask people if they want me to be completely honest with them and make them sign a contract stating i'm not wholly at fault for screwing up a relationship because after all, they asked for my injurious integrity.
i've read too many books lately. i can almost understand why leaders are afraid of these texts and the knowledge carried within and the madness behind putting a match to them. i've rediscovered how damn spoiled i really am, and i repeated a promise i had a few years ago - i'll have to make something of my life. i desperately want to believe everyone who lived and died an unfair and unjust life was compensated in some way, with a bravura afterlife or reincarnated as an exalted something, but if they weren't, i have to be something momentous. for a reason i probably won't ever know, i was presented with a superb opportunity, and i will beyond doubt be taking it.
i just have to figure out how.
(this entry was too astute for my liking, so i will lighten up the mood and inform the public i baked lasagna last night, cheers!)
