It's 3 AM and I can't sleep. Actually, it's 4:20 AM and I can't sleep. Last time I checked it was definitely 3 AM. Now I'm wondering what I did for the last 80 minutes...
Today (meaning September 11, 2009, not Today Today) has been weird. I've been kind of out of it. Eight years. God, it seems like it was two years ago, maybe three. I've always felt kind of guilty about how I reacted to the attacks that day. I was just kind of non-responsive, besides being worried about my mom, who worked nearby. It was a horrible tragedy, of course, and I realized that, but at the same time it seemed like my capacity to feel or exhibit any sort of emotion was gone. Not that I was ever great in that department, but the guilt is still there. Now I'm thinking I didn't react because I was numb, which makes sense.
In any case, now I feel. Now that I know that people are dying for nothing while I'm here reading books. It makes me feel horrible. Especially when I think about how easily and quickly people judge the soldiers, the vicious killers, when we really have no fucking clue what it's like over there. How do you know you wouldn't kill just as many people if you were put in that sort of situation? You don't. I don't.
The buildup to this year's 9/11 was more intense this year because I'm taking a Sociology class called 'War and Possibilities of Peace' and we've been reading a lot and watching videos and films, all about war, obviously. One we saw recently, called "Army Strong" just... I don't even know what to say about it. It tore me apart. But I'm glad I watched it. You should
watch it. Anyway, my professor is a huge peace advocate and I really just feel so blessed that I'm being taught by him. I could just have easily been raised somewhere else, with completely different ideals. I think about that all the time. You know when people compliment you because you're.. I don't know, humble, smart, whatever. It really has nothing to do with you. It's about where you were born, how you were raised, who taught you. It's about privilege. I guess a small part is about you, but just a small part.
My professors are fucking amazing. Seriously. I usually obsess over one every semester, but they all rock this time and I can't possibly pick a favorite.
Guilt, guilt, guilt. Why me? Why am I so lucky?
I have to memorize a poem for my acting class. I don't know which to choose.. I was never that into poetry, though I do enjoy it occasionally. But usually I'm just like, God, just say it already. There's deep and then there's "I don't know what the hell you're trying to say here," you know? I think I'll look through one of Sylvia Plath's poetry books... or Dorothy Parker, though most of her poems are really short, and I think we're supposed to memorize a semi-lengthy one.
Then I have to write a paper about an encounter I had/am going to have. It could be with anything; a person, a song, a rock... it just has to have stirred some kind of emotion inside of me. I have to write about how my body reacted to whatever it was. Maybe I'll post it here, if it's interesting enough.
I should probably go to sleep now. It's almost 5 AM and I have to make baked mac n' cheese in the morning for a potluck. If I'm not fully awake for that, I might burn the building down.
