Like being kicked in the chest

I'm slowly coming out of the numbness that struck me yesterday morning, after I turned on the radio to find the normal jovial antics of the local deejays had been replaced by a somber professionalism as the relayed the events of the morning. I got out of bed early because I needed to see for myself. One of the towers had fallen. This was so unfathomable that I needed visual confirmation to assure myself that it was really happening. I turned on the television just in time to see the second tower collapse. My mind made a note of the date. September 11, 2001. Repeating over and over making sure it was deeply etched into my memory. I checked online to see if the stock market was closed. It was, but I decided I'd go ahead and drive to work to see if we were actually open. I could have called, but I needed to move. The office was open. It was strangely quiet, but work was to go on as normal. I spent the day in a daze. Angry, sad, sick, scared, and somewhat annoyed that we were expected to work as normal. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be with friends and/or family. I wanted my mom. Instead, I sat at my desk, under a television broadcasting the news, showing those images over and over. I felt so alone in the midst of so many people. When I finally got out of work, I went home and went to sleep.

Today, I'm back at work. Feeling a little more in touch with my surroundings, but can't shake that knot in my gut. The televisions at work are now broadcasting the financial channels. The impact this will have on the stock market and the economy in general. I don't care. If the television is going to be on, I want to see the rescue efforts. I want to see the people coming from everywhere to help. I want to see that our country is made of people concerned about people, not people concerned about money. My hatred for the industry in which I work is growing every day.

They just announced that they arrested a van full of people who were observed celebrating the attack.

From Numb to Distraught

I left the office after 2 1/2 hours today. I couldn't work. I kept looking at accounts, trying to do my job, but unable to accomplish the basic task of typing. Then I saw the partial list of passengers on the hijacked planes.

I've only ever been involed in one online community ever - a "Fraiser" newsgroup. The producers of Frasier were regular posters in the group, and I felt a personal connection to them, even though we'd never actually talked face to face. David Angell and his wife, Lynn, wer passengers on Flight 11, which hit one of the Towers.

The knot in my gut was suddenly compounded by the pile of bricks that fell on me when I read his name.

I'm home now, pondering whether or not it's okay to like Exxon again.