I didn't really do much today. I had an interview today at 10am, which meant that I had to wake up at about 8:30 to make sure that I was there on time. If you read yesterday's post, you know that I was up quite late, so I was very tired during my interview. When I got home, I made some lunch and took a lengthy nap, waking up at around 5pm. I was still exhausted, so I just sat on my computer and screwed around, playing a lot of Diablo II. Jeff got home around 7pm as I was headed to the exercise room. I worked out again and did amazingly well for lifting two days in a row. I could definitely feel the lack of my usual day of rest, but I was able to complete full sets with the full weight. I came back, showered, cooked a pizza, and then Jeff and I went to Wal-Mart. When we got back, I put some random photos in a photo album that I bought and hooked up my TV with my new, longer cable. That's pretty much all I've done all day. Oh, and I did a load of laundry. Tomorrow I'm headed to Lincoln to grab the very last of my things.
9/11 is a weird day for me. I always feel bad because while I feel for all of the families and for our country, I hate what it has done to our political system and populace. We've been turned into frightened fools who will believe anything prefaced by "for our national security." We ceded a lot of personal freedom to a government that shouldn't have been trusted with it (in fairness, I don't trust ANY government with some of the powers in the Patriot Act, Republican OR Democrat). In the end, where are we? Overall, the world is a worse place. The oppressive Taliban is out of power in Afghanistan, but they have not stopped fighting and it is unlikely that there will be a peaceful resolution any time soon. Iraq is Iraq. I'm not going to go into much depth, but suffice it to say that while Iraq under Saddam was bad, this might be worse. At least we got all of the WMDs. Oh wait... Back at home, we've stressed every international relationship that we've ever built, and we've started the cycle over again. US wants to accomplish X. They give country/group Y weapons and money to accomplish X for us, and then ten years later country/group Y uses the weapons and money to fight us. We never quite figure it out. I knew that day that my world had changed. As I passed my roommate in the middle of Madison Avenue, he told me that we didn't have health class because the World Trade Center had been attacked. He's a joker, and I thought he was just screwing with me because I was late. I didn't give it a second thought as I said "Ok, whatever," and headed into Smith-Curtis through the mail room doors. When I walked into the lecture hall, there were only a handful of the one hundred plus students in the room. PDP was down front repeating the mantra "Go home, be with your families. I pray that all of your friends and family are alright." In the back row on the right, a brunette girl was crying while another girl hugged her and rocked awkwardly because of the immovable arm between the seats. I didn't know either of them. There were a few students sitting silently, alone, heads down. I went back to my room in Zeta Psi and Andy was sitting watching CNN. He didn't say anything when I walked in. The north tower was billowing black smoke and the anchors struggled to find words. Occasionally, they would repeat the facts: a plane had hit the north tower. A short while later, we saw the second plane hit. Andy jumped. I said "Oh fuck." I think that should be a t-shirt. On the front, the burning towers. On the back, "Fuck." There's no other good way to describe it, but I won't forget that day.
I've been looking through a lot of old pictures that I found while unpacking. I've found random college pictures and pictures from India. I found a picture of me when I had hippie hair. That picture proves that nobody loves me because not one person told me that I looked like a retard. I've never been a picture person, but I'm glad I have these. They bring back good memories. I really want to get some of the pictures that I took in India blown up, framed, or both. I'm a damn good photographer when I do have a picture. Except that, for some reason, I have to take a picture of myself with the camera at arm's length on every roll of film. That would be another odd habit of mine. Ok, bed time.
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