So, I'm 3 weeks into college life. How do I like it? I really don't know. Like everything else, there are parts I love and parts that aren't so dandy. Like the showers. I miss having clean showers where I don't have to wear flip-flops. I guess that's just a minor detail though. I miss my family lots and lots. And just home life in general. I haven't cried though, because I know it's not for forever, and because I know if I really really needed to I could fly home just like that.
I do love my classes, in general. Even Writing, which I wasn't looking forward to. I mean, it's not easy, but my professor makes it so fresh and stimulating that I actually enjoy class. Speaking of professors, they're one of the best things here. They're knowledgeable, witty, genuinely interested in their students, and all godly people.
Actually right now I'm writing this instead of revising my paper for English. Oops. Well, it's still writing, so it counts...right? Sigh. Procrastination. I was practicing before and decided to take a homework break...which turned into a Facebook break...and then a youtube break...and now a blogging break.
Today marks the ninth anniversary of 9/11. I've been thinking all day about how time has gone by so quickly. Has it really been nine years? A lot of people are asking that question. There are so many children in the world, like all my Primary Choir kids, who have no memory of that day because they weren't born yet. I remember it, quite vividly, even though I myself was only nine years old then. Wow, did it really happen half my lifetime ago?
I remember it was a crisp, bright fall day. We were at 43 Nevsky, in the process of moving house. But the TV was still set up in the family room. Daddy was working at home, and we had started school. I think we were upstairs in the study/guestroom when Daddy called up from downstairs to tell us to come down and look at the news on TV. I don't remember what he said...probably something along the lines of "big accident." Mommy and I and Stephen hurried down. Either we had moved the sofa away already, or we were just so stunned, but somehow we ended up on the ground, staring at the screen. I was on my knees, mouth agape, as we watched shot after shot of the plane crashing into the first tower. It was around 9:30am...not quite sure, but I know it was soon after the first plane hit. We stayed there for a good half hour or more, in shock. Mommy was saying "Oh no, oh no" over and over again, near tears. Daddy had to go back to monitor his work after a while, but I stayed there, not quite understanding what was going on. I knew it was something really bad. The images of the building exploding and crumbling are forever seared in my brain. As are the clips of people, humans, covered in dust and running, running, fleeing down the streets of Manhattan. I lived their terror as they ran into the camera, I was chilled by the images of handbags left on the ground, owners missing perhaps. Two images will always haunt me: that of a severed hand lying by the side of the street, and a story several days later of bodies wrapped up like mummies. They terrified me at the time and still bring chills down my spine whenever I think about it.
The rest of the day was spent in countless prayers and frantic phone calls to friends whom we knew worked in NYC. We heard how Ms. Yolanda was about to cross the Brooklyn Bridge on foot but managed to get on one of the last buses leaving the city. Later in the day, mommy got a call from Mr. Richard's wife. She desperately needed someone to go pick up her husband from the train station. Somehow he had managed to get out on a train but she couldn't go because she had to watch her two young kids.
Surprisingly, I've never been to Ground Zero. My family never decided to visit there, and I don't think I would have been ready to face it until recently. Even though I wasn't hit directly, i.e. I don't think I actually know anyone, or a friend of a friend, who died there, and I wasn't in the city at the time, 9/11 impacted me deeply. It scared me. We were essentially attacked on our own soil. The lives lost were so many. Recovery efforts went on for months, years. I guess it's also because I do live relatively close and I've actually been in NYC. e.g. I didn't feel Katrina as deeply because I'm physically removed from it.
Maybe...that's something that has unconsciously influenced me in my desire to join the military. Even before I heard about CAP I always had this childish dream to join the army. Seriously, I told my mom I was considering that as a career.
That was, in a way, quite cathartic. Now that was a real first draft of mine. I barely stopped in writing that. If only I could do my writing assignments so quickly. I think I might have to do this with all my other childhood scarring experiences. Sounds so sketchy haha.
Well, it's off to homework and dinner I go. I feel strangely restless today...like I want to do something but I don't know what. Visiting another Chinese church tomorrow.
