Writers' block, after a few half decent ideas, has attacked again. Fail.
I'm working on moving all over again. I hate moving. But this flat is too expensive now. Cheaper options must be found.
I wish the graduate climate would pick up again, my job bores me. That said, I am considering setting aside a day to apply for a Masters.
If I can ever remember how to think up a good story again
Photo by Chris Scott
Monday 26 September 2011
Sunday 11 September 2011
NineEleven
It's a little belated, but I want to add my two penn'orth.
I still remember what happened on this day, and I think I always will.
It was a Tuesday, and I was off school ill with what I think transpired to be a routine throat infection that didn't last long. I was 13, and in second year of high school. My mam came out of work early on that day to take me to the doctor. She was working in my old primary school at that point, with the class three years below mine (which would have been P6) but mainly with one pupil who was physically disabled.
We were sitting in the waiting room, just talking. At that point it had been about three weeks since my maternal granny had died (I marked her passing on that date with a lit scented candle in the wee small hours). She'd been a known figure in the local community, having taught French and German at my old high school. A couple of people we knew stopped by to chat to us and ask how we were doing.
The radio station on in the waiting room was Radio 2, which wasn't unusual. At that age I was a bit sniffy towards Radio 2, regarding it - accurately enough - as 'The Old Channel' (something I love about it now, funny that). So, needless to say, I was paying little if any attention to it.
Then it came on the news. Well, I didn't hear it at first, but Mam did, and was trying to tell me - only she said something about the Empire State Building first, and I got mixed up and thought it was in fact that building that the planes had hit. I started paying more attention then, but then it transpired that the ESB was, in fact, unaffected - instead the World Trade Centre had been hit, as had the Pentagon, and another plane that had been hijacked and had crashed in Pennsylvania. One of Mam's pals, who was then a nurse at the health centre (and has long since undergone a career change but that's another story) stood and listened with us, and I'm pretty sure we even spoke about it with whichever doctor saw me.
When we got home, we put on the telly and lo and behold, CBBC (which by this point I was too old for anyway) was off BBC1 and on BBC2, and the former was now was just rolling news from BBC News 24 regarding the attacks. We watched for a while, just that image of the plane hitting the South Tower and the huge grey broccoli cloud that burst out of it, before both towers collapsed. Finally I had to go and think about something else, so I went to my room and probably did what I did best then - just wrote something. Later that evening, my mam encouraged me to send an email to her friend Fiona (Auntie Bear as I call her), who lived in the region where the attacks happened. I asked if she and John - her husband of only a couple of months by that point - were okay and if they could send us any info.
The next day I was well enough to go to school, and even made it to Youth Club later that night. I still hadn't heard from Auntie Bear, so I ended up checking my mail on the office computer (which was allowed). At last, correspondence. I breathed a sigh of relief.
John had written most of the email, it went thus:
"Dear Hannah,
Hi: this is John, Fee's husband. We're both fine. As we understand the
situation right now, at about quarter to nine local time this morning, an
airplane was hijacked and crashed into one of the World Trade centers in NYC.
About ten minutes later, a second hijacked airplane was crashed into the
second World Trade Tower. Shortly after that, a third airplane was hijacked
and crashed into the Pentagon, which is located just outside Washington D.C.
in Virginia. Approximately an hour after the second World Trade Tower had
been struck, it collapsed. About ten to fifteen minutes after that, the first
Tower also collapsed. Somewhere in here, a fourth hijacked airplane crashed
in western Pennsylvania.
As you can imagine, we're both quite stunned. The casualty list is going
to be enormous; it's too terrible even to contemplate, really, as apparently a
number of buildings near the WTC were damaged/destroyed in their collapses.
We're sitting on the edge of our seats, wondering what (if anything) is next,
which is, I suppose, the very effect such terrorism is meant to have on one.
There are blood drives starting up locally; I imagine I'll donate as soon as I
can.
That's about what we know. Sorry the news is so grim, but thanks for
your care and concern. We'll keep you updated if anything else happens (touch
wood).
well hannah john has given you a pretty comprehensive report. We'll no doubt
be watching the news tonight and hoping that nothing else happens. Y'know
there are real advantages to living on Shetland, aren't there?
love aunty b"
I've never in my life felt more relieved to hear from someone.
It was all anyone spoke about for a good few weeks afterwards. A girl in the class my mam assisted with brought in a news report from online that showed where the planes had hit. In my English class we wrote poems about it; mine and one other girl's were later featured in a school anthology of writing (although hers was far superior - mine rhymed, which was probably not appropriate looking back).
That said, as horrifying as the attacks were, the resulting War on Terror generated many innocent victims too, both soldiers and civilians. I remember going to a protest march in early 2003 against the threat of war on Iraq, which was made good a month later - however, since Saddam Hussein was toppled more people have died than were killed in the war before that. Similarly, Osama Bin Laden was killed at the beginning of May this year. Firstly, so many people were killed in the 9 and a half years before they got to him. Secondly, his death will not kill terrorism. If anything it'll make it worse.
So yes, to conclude, the victims of both the events of 9/11 and those that followed were in the back of my mind today. As we discovered when Amy Winehouse died the same day as the massacre in Norway earlier this year, compassion is not a finite resource and it is possible to feel sad about more than one group of people at the same time. That's how I've felt every year since it happened, and that will never change.
I still remember what happened on this day, and I think I always will.
It was a Tuesday, and I was off school ill with what I think transpired to be a routine throat infection that didn't last long. I was 13, and in second year of high school. My mam came out of work early on that day to take me to the doctor. She was working in my old primary school at that point, with the class three years below mine (which would have been P6) but mainly with one pupil who was physically disabled.
We were sitting in the waiting room, just talking. At that point it had been about three weeks since my maternal granny had died (I marked her passing on that date with a lit scented candle in the wee small hours). She'd been a known figure in the local community, having taught French and German at my old high school. A couple of people we knew stopped by to chat to us and ask how we were doing.
The radio station on in the waiting room was Radio 2, which wasn't unusual. At that age I was a bit sniffy towards Radio 2, regarding it - accurately enough - as 'The Old Channel' (something I love about it now, funny that). So, needless to say, I was paying little if any attention to it.
Then it came on the news. Well, I didn't hear it at first, but Mam did, and was trying to tell me - only she said something about the Empire State Building first, and I got mixed up and thought it was in fact that building that the planes had hit. I started paying more attention then, but then it transpired that the ESB was, in fact, unaffected - instead the World Trade Centre had been hit, as had the Pentagon, and another plane that had been hijacked and had crashed in Pennsylvania. One of Mam's pals, who was then a nurse at the health centre (and has long since undergone a career change but that's another story) stood and listened with us, and I'm pretty sure we even spoke about it with whichever doctor saw me.
When we got home, we put on the telly and lo and behold, CBBC (which by this point I was too old for anyway) was off BBC1 and on BBC2, and the former was now was just rolling news from BBC News 24 regarding the attacks. We watched for a while, just that image of the plane hitting the South Tower and the huge grey broccoli cloud that burst out of it, before both towers collapsed. Finally I had to go and think about something else, so I went to my room and probably did what I did best then - just wrote something. Later that evening, my mam encouraged me to send an email to her friend Fiona (Auntie Bear as I call her), who lived in the region where the attacks happened. I asked if she and John - her husband of only a couple of months by that point - were okay and if they could send us any info.
The next day I was well enough to go to school, and even made it to Youth Club later that night. I still hadn't heard from Auntie Bear, so I ended up checking my mail on the office computer (which was allowed). At last, correspondence. I breathed a sigh of relief.
John had written most of the email, it went thus:
"Dear Hannah,
Hi: this is John, Fee's husband. We're both fine. As we understand the
situation right now, at about quarter to nine local time this morning, an
airplane was hijacked and crashed into one of the World Trade centers in NYC.
About ten minutes later, a second hijacked airplane was crashed into the
second World Trade Tower. Shortly after that, a third airplane was hijacked
and crashed into the Pentagon, which is located just outside Washington D.C.
in Virginia. Approximately an hour after the second World Trade Tower had
been struck, it collapsed. About ten to fifteen minutes after that, the first
Tower also collapsed. Somewhere in here, a fourth hijacked airplane crashed
in western Pennsylvania.
As you can imagine, we're both quite stunned. The casualty list is going
to be enormous; it's too terrible even to contemplate, really, as apparently a
number of buildings near the WTC were damaged/destroyed in their collapses.
We're sitting on the edge of our seats, wondering what (if anything) is next,
which is, I suppose, the very effect such terrorism is meant to have on one.
There are blood drives starting up locally; I imagine I'll donate as soon as I
can.
That's about what we know. Sorry the news is so grim, but thanks for
your care and concern. We'll keep you updated if anything else happens (touch
wood).
well hannah john has given you a pretty comprehensive report. We'll no doubt
be watching the news tonight and hoping that nothing else happens. Y'know
there are real advantages to living on Shetland, aren't there?
love aunty b"
I've never in my life felt more relieved to hear from someone.
It was all anyone spoke about for a good few weeks afterwards. A girl in the class my mam assisted with brought in a news report from online that showed where the planes had hit. In my English class we wrote poems about it; mine and one other girl's were later featured in a school anthology of writing (although hers was far superior - mine rhymed, which was probably not appropriate looking back).
That said, as horrifying as the attacks were, the resulting War on Terror generated many innocent victims too, both soldiers and civilians. I remember going to a protest march in early 2003 against the threat of war on Iraq, which was made good a month later - however, since Saddam Hussein was toppled more people have died than were killed in the war before that. Similarly, Osama Bin Laden was killed at the beginning of May this year. Firstly, so many people were killed in the 9 and a half years before they got to him. Secondly, his death will not kill terrorism. If anything it'll make it worse.
So yes, to conclude, the victims of both the events of 9/11 and those that followed were in the back of my mind today. As we discovered when Amy Winehouse died the same day as the massacre in Norway earlier this year, compassion is not a finite resource and it is possible to feel sad about more than one group of people at the same time. That's how I've felt every year since it happened, and that will never change.
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