Hard Morning 2002

I wish that the anniversary of the 9-11 attacks was a weekend, that it wasn't a day in many ways just like that day last year. So many reminders to shake me up and yet, I, though emotionally very affected, was not personally touched by the tragedy except through some casual friends, except philosophically or politically.

Here I am at work again. Thinking about it all. Distracted by it all. Wanting to make those human connections. Caring more about my friends and family and about peace. Wondering if this stupid species will ever learn to stop hurting each other, hating each other.

Anil has been on my mind the last few days. He was who I spoke to the most that day, I think. We chatted on some instant messaging client, I in Silicon Valley, he in Manhattan. Since my PC gave up the ghost, since I changed jobs, I haven't been chatting online. It's a distraction I can ill afford in my challenging new job and a time-consuming habit I decided to drop. I would like to say hello to Anil though and let him know I am thinking of him, wishing him well, appreciating his clarity and humanity that shines in his writing.

This morning there was a woman playing the cello in the BART station. That is the music for today; not patriotic ballads, not the national anthem, just a low sad theme, wandering, wistful, humane.

Comments

Hard Morning

I wish that the anniversary of the 9-11 attacks was a weekend, that it wasn't a day in many ways just like that day last year. So many reminders to shake me up and yet, I, though emotionally very affected, was not personally touched by the tragedy except through some casual friends, except philosophically or politically.

Here I am at work again. Thinking about it all. Distracted by it all. Wanting to make those human connections. Caring more about my friends and family and about peace. Wondering if this stupid species will ever learn to stop hurting each other, hating each other.

Anil has been on my mind the last few days. He was who I spoke to the most that day, I think. We chatted on some instant messaging client, I in Silicon Valley, he in Manhattan. Since my PC gave up the ghost, since I changed jobs, I haven't been chatting online. It's a distraction I can ill afford in my challenging new job and a time-consuming habit I decided to drop. I would like to say hello to Anil though and let him know I am thinking of him, wishing him well, appreciating his clarity and humanity that shines in his writing.

This morning there was a woman playing the cello in the BART station. That is the music for today; not patriotic ballads, not the national anthem, just a low sad theme, wandering, wistful, humane.

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