Friday, September 14, 2001

A Word About Reactions:

Necessary.

Reactions, particularly knee-jerk emotional reactions, are sometimes necessary. Patrick F. McManus, outdoor humorist, is a big fan of panicking and getting it over with (see 'Modified Stationary Panic' in A Fine And Pleasant Misery). There are those people that, when faced with a crisis totally unlike anything they've ever dealt with, have to go to pieces first and think later. This is all right. The fact that one reacts means that one still feels, that one is still part of the human race.

However, there comes a time when reaction, -reacting-, is not what the situation calls for. Now, today, is that time. That time probably started Wednesday night.

It's all right to cry, to want your mother, to need to hide away from the world and mourn the loss of life and oblivious freedom. It was fine to demand energy and attention for yourself for a little while. That time is now past.

This event is bigger than me. It is bigger than my family. In the grand scheme of things, what is important is -NOT- what I can get from other people in this situation, but -what I can do to help others- that are worse off than I am. I am not a rescue worker in New York, soaked with rain and sweat and covered in debris and in desperate need of sleep; I am not digging through rubble with my own two hands because the square-point shovel isn't going to work; I am not donating blood or food or clothing; I'm not rolling bandages or giving money to those who need it. I'm not doing any of those things for a number of reasons, one of which is the geographical factor.

I'm doing what I can, though, and what is best for everyone: I'm staying out of the way of those that know what to do and how to do it; I'm not adding to any anti-anyone hysteria; I am not panicking and waving my gun around. I'm staying calm, out of the way, and I am praying. That's what I can do, so I'm doing it. They're not pretty prayers. They're not even -coherent-, most of the time. But it's what I can do, along with believing that there's a Master purpose in this. I don't know what it is, but I'm sure God does.

So I wait, and I hope, and I pray, and I trust as much as I can.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 9:48 AM |

Bless the hands that help and save, and those to whom they go.

Give the world leaders wisdom beyond anything they could come up with themselves. Show them the way to deal with whoever is responsible -without- the loss of more innocent people.

And for all people... Bless and guide us wherever we may stand; comfort the discouraged and sorrowful; pick us up when we fall, and may the peace which passeth _all_ understanding be ours now and forever.

Give us all courage. Give us all the grace to be merciful to one another. Give us all the knowledge of what is -right- and honorable and kind. Place your hand over those that need protecting, from the searchers to the smallest children. Keep watch over us by night, O Lord.

I can't find the Psalm I wanted to quote here in my Bible. But I did find Paslm 9:16, which says: The Lord is known for His justice, the wicked are ensnared by the work of their hands.

Psalm 10:12 -- Arise, Lord! Lift up your hand, O God. Do not forget the helpless. (Not that He would.)

Ah, Providence: I just spent five minutes determining that if we -do- have and Episcopal Hymnal in the house, it's not where it shooould be. That was okay, as I had what I was looking for written down in a sketchbook. The only problem was that the sketchbook was on my table... I walked into my room, picked up the first sketchbook I saw, and flipped through it. There was the text I was looking for, and here it is for you:

This is a plainsong Compline prayer. Compline prayers are said around bedtime; Vespers much later. I transcribed this one sleepless night at my grandparents' house, and felt better.

1) O Christ, you are both light and day,
you drive away shadowed night;
as daystar you precede the dawn,
the herald of the light to come.

2) We pray you, O most holy Lord,
to be our guardian while we sleep.
Bestow on us who rest in you
the blessing of a quiet night.

3) Although our eyes in sleep be closed,
let our hearts in constant vigil watch.
With your right hand you will protect
those who believe and trust in you.

4) Defender of us all, look down,
repel our dread, malicious foe.
Direct your faithful household, Lord,
whom you have purchased with your blood.

5) O Christ, redeemer of the world,
O God, our maker and our end,
O Spirit, bond of peace and love,
to you be endless thanks and praise.

Amen.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 10:36 AM |

I skipped art this morning. All I can do is doodle, and I haven't even done much of that.

I want to go home.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 10:57 AM |

*Snerk* I just found a piece of spam with the subject line of 'Attract Men With Bigger Breasts!'. My first thought was, 'that's odd, why would the guys- OH!' *Rolls eyes* So much for me.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 11:08 AM |

Anyone that knows me well enough to call me 'Shan' usually knows this: I am not a red-white-and-blue-bleeding, flag-waving patriotic maniac. They also know that I tend to be leery of people that are (much the same way that I'm leery of the 'God's -spiffy!' crowd).

With great deliberation, I went to the store and purchased two newspapers. Today's paper included a full-page flag, with the words 'Proud to be American' and 'Proud to be Alaskan' along the top. One flag is already taped to the inside of one of our living-room windows. I did it more out of a desire for unity, or something, than any sudden swelling of overly-patriotic feelings.

I don't hate this country at all. In fact, I'm incredibly grateful that I live -here-, out of the rest of the free world. I guess it's just that I tend to think of rah-rah flagwavers as the sort that ignore all of the US's bad parts. Or something. At any rate, I put up a flag, and we may be hanging out another.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 3:43 PM |

I fixed the Compline prayer, so that it now says 'OUR dread foe' rather than giving the foe a choice.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 3:53 PM |

Technomancy's DSL service appears to be offline right now, no ETA as to its return.

Oh, -good-. Not that they're down, or that they don't know when they'll be back up, but at least nothing horrible happened to the crew themselves. Guh.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 4:05 PM |

Good _LORD!_ *Blinkblink* The neighbors just had a load of rocks delivered. Note: Rocks make an -un-holy amount of racket when they're tipped out of a dumptruck. Eek.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 4:13 PM |

And look! I managed to get all those links up there on my lonesome. Granted, they're not -exactly- where I want them, but not bad for my first shot, eh?
Posted by: Shannon M.: 4:25 PM |

I'm gonna go doodle or something, now. Jaa maate!
Posted by: Shannon M.: 4:32 PM |

Thursday, September 13, 2001

As if Tuesday wasn't enough for me and mine, there was Wednesday.

Wednesday, we do FDN. No big deal, it was even a nice, -fun- respite from Tuesday. Until we left the restaurant and said our goodbyes to my grandparents.

Mom's cell phone rings. She answers, then gets this look on her face. She asks where someone is, says, 'okay, we'll be right there.', and hangs up. The Look is still there. It's her There's Something Serious Happening look, which makes my stomach flip-flop. I ask her what's happening, she says, 'That was your dad, and he needs me to come get him and take him home. He's not feeling well.'

We hop in the car and I express anxiety; mom thinks that yesterday had gotten to him and that he was -really- upset. We go over to the little health club that dad frequents (because it's no more than 100 yards from where he works, so he can work out just before he goes in), mom hops out and goes in to get him.

Five minutes goes by, no mom and dad. I call mom. She says, 'Well, actually, your dad is -really- sick; he's dizzy and throwing up. So, we've called for an ambulance and the EMTs should be here soon.' I say 'okay' and hang up. No more than two minutes later ('cause fire station #9 is five minutes away, which is an incredible comfort to me -- it would only take them about five minutes to get -here-, too), a fire truck arrives with lights flashing. Two EMS guys hop out, round up their gear, and go inside.

Twenty mintes later, I can't stand the not-knowing and call mom again. 'They've ruled out a heart attack, but they think it could be a massive inner-ear infection. So, they're taking him to Providence.' (The ambulance had shown up about two minutes after the fire truck, but as the car was facing the wrong direction, I didn't see it until after I'd gotten out of the car to get a newspaper out of the back seat. -That- was scary.)

So they get dad installed in the ambulance, and mom and I zoom down to the hospital. They've been working on Providence for the last year and a half or so, and the new emergency room is -gorgeous-. And _quiet_. The waiting room is less-so, what with the TVs they've got blaring, but I sort-of expected that. After three hours, though, I was ready to beg someone for Cartoon Network. *Wavbes a hand* Anyhow...

Dad looked horrible. I've never seen him look so bad... Even the time he landed his Ultralight in a tree (not by choice) was better than this. What happened was this: He's been working out in preperation to go bear hunting* with his buddy Frank. He spent an hour walking on the treadmill, then went into the locker room, took a shower, dried off/got dressed, and apparently, called Dory. While he was on the phone with Dory, he started feeling nauseated and like the room was spinning. He threw up (which is an -incredible- rarity for him -- he's where I get my loathing of vomit and vomiting) and was still -really- dizzy. He got someone else in the locker room to go get club staff, who helped him out... I'm not sure what they did, if they made him lie down with his feet up or what. Eventually, he'd recovered enough to call mom.

At the hospital, they gave him some anti-nausea and anti-vertigo drugs, rehydrated him, and did tests. EKG, X-ray, full blood panel, urine sample... Probably the only thing they didn't do was a throat culture for strep. And then we waited. And waited. And waited... We were only there about five hours, but much like Tuesday, every one of them was an eternity. And the staff was -so- good... There was Marian, who smiled at me every time I needed her to open the automatic doors into the emergency room proper**; Angie, who did the discharge paperwork and took out dad's heplock; the neat woman whose name I didn't catch that let us in the first time; and the doctor, who I asked one quesion of and didn't see otherwise.

There was also the woman in the waiting room that remembered me from -one- visit to my orthodontist, _years_ ago, who was waiting for news on a friend of the family who'd had a stroke. TechLady, I hope everything's okay.

Finally, they got all the results back: Normal, normal, dull and boring normal. No diabetes, no heart condition, no bleeding ulcer, etc. They diagnosed him with vertigo, seconded the suspicion of an acute inner-ear infection, and sent him home with medication and instructions to get in touch with their recommended ENT Guy. Their ENT Guy turned out to be a guy my dad flies with, which is pretty cool. (Dad also knew one of the EMS's -- they'd gone to high school together, and then the guy had worked at Sears for ages.)

So, we don't really know what happened, yet. This happened to him once before, thirty years ago -- while he was riding a motorcycle through Canada. The doctor fixed him up and sent him to a hotel, then saw him again the next morning. As dad was -much- improved, the doctor accused him of drug use, which needless to say did _not_ endear my father to him at all***. Dad ended up going home with his parents (who had been alerted and had panicked, and flown out to get him), still puzzled by the whole thing.

I haven't heard from dad yet today, but he may still be asleep -- we didn't get out of the hospital until about one in the morning, then we didn't get out to his house until almost two. I don't know how long he'd been awake yesterday, since he went back to working the night shift****.

So. Fates, The Universe, God... And whatever other deities might be listening: That's about all the stress I can handle right now, okay? Thanks.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 12:39 PM |

* -- In order to hunt grizzly bears up here, you have to enter a drawing. I think they only draw three hundred names or something, and each person can take a hunting partner. Frank's name was drawn, and he invited my dad. (Mom thinks that Dory's going to take priority over the bear hunt, some how... *Snerk*)

** -- The Emergency Room proper is seperated from the waiting area by two sets of double doors. The pair between the lobby and the ER doesn't have a handle on the lobby side. I belieeeeeve this is to prevent small children from wandering into the ER and getting run over by doctors, nurses, gurneys, etc. It would also prevent Unauthorized Personnel from sneaking in and getting in the way.

*** -- He said that if he -had- been using drugs, he would have been able to tell the doctor that that was what was wrong with him, though all of the drug users he'd ever encountered were too stupid to hold a conversation with... And that that had been his biggest anti-drug advertisement in high school. He had enough trouble getting good grades stone cold sober, he wasn't about to voluntarily make himself stupid. (And this is probably where I get my feelings on drugs -- I like my brain far too much to fuck it up beyond all repair.)

**** -- This summer, dad tried working days so that he could have time to go flying on Fridays. It didn't work out that way at _all_. Plus, after about twenty years of working nights, his sleep-schedule did _NOT_ appreciate the sudden change. He's just nocturnal and that's that.

Posted by: Shannon M.: 12:51 PM |

Oh, and due to the air lockdown, the Sharks aren't going to make it. However, the Blues have been here all week, and they decided to hold their training camp here (mostly because they had no choice). So, the old Blues and the rookie prospects are going to have an intersquad scrimmage Saturday night, to which all ticketholders are welcome. And their practices are open to the public, though I don't know if I'll get to go to Friday's. (I missed today's because it started at 9 and I didn't wake up 'til 11. Oops.)
Posted by: Shannon M.: 12:59 PM |

Wednesday, September 12, 2001

You'd think spammers would take a day or two off. Sigh.

In other news, I'm really incredibly grateful that everyone I know/care about is all more or less all right.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 11:44 AM |

I think what you mean, Reesa, is 'Don't just sit around on your butt and -re-act, get up and -act-.' Or, conversely: 'Take the time to react, -then- get up and act.'

That's how I read it, anyhow. *Shrug*

Personally, I'm kind of glad that I know people on that side of the country, because it makes it more -real- for me. I'm more likely to keep my attention and prayers focused in your direction -because- you're there, and because you're safe, while others aren't. With Oklahoma, other than my mom being home for a couple of days, it didn't really affect -me-. This... This is something else entirely.

My mother's friend Erin has a little thing she says every time she hears sirens, no matter if they're cops, fire trucks, or ambulances:

Bless the hands that help and save, and those to whom they go.

I've been chanting that over and over again for the last little while, here.

I don't know what I'm really trying to say except that I'm thinking of you all and I'm so damn glad you're all okay.

P.S.: Mom went to work but was sent home yesterday; she wasn't supposed to work today, either. However, as the President said that the government was going to be "up and running", 'business as usual" today, she had to go. They're taking extra precautions, though, and Elmendorf's F16s have been zinging back and forth across the sky.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 12:04 PM |

"A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky animals [...]."

Contrary to the sign I saw on my way home from class this afternoon, it is NOT "go time".

There's nothing, yet. There are a few leads, and a few places to start, but we have _nothing_ to go on yet. The US cannot just go haring off and blow up whoever they think -might- be responsible. And, I pray to God that the president and all of his advisors keep their heads and do _not_ decide to obliterate an entire group of people just to get 'the bad guys'. Historically, authority figures have chosen to punish the many for the trespass of the few.

I fear that the US will kill many to do in the few that deserve it. I also fear that the rest of the country will get caught up in the hype and frenzy generated by some of the media, and that people will start taking out their unthinking hatred on people that have nothing to do with what happened; whose only ties are sharing racial or religious or national identity with whatever group is suspect.

During World War II, the US set up interment camps for people of Japanese descent. Men, women and -children- (watch me play the emotional-manipulation card just like the media!) were rounded up and sent to these camps. Granted, it was nothing like Dachau or Auschwitz, but... It wasn't -right-. It wasn't -fair-. How likely is a two-year-old to be an international -spy-? Never _mind_ that the technology available then was nowhere _near_ the level of what we have today.

What happened yesterday was not right. It was not fair. And it should not have happened. It's too late now for recriminations and finger-pointing. However, there is still time to prevent worse things from happening. There is still time to stop and examine one's feelings. Do you suddenly have a burning hatred for anyone that wears a turban? A headcloth (the proper name of which escapes me, gah) like Yassir Arafat's? _WHY_? There is no proof. It could have been arranged by someone of Arabic descent, of Egyptian, of Grecian or Gallacian or Kuwati descent. Hell, it could have been set up by someone as blandly white as I am. The point is, We. Don't. Fucking. Know. Yet.

When we find out, we can hate -the one(s) responsible-. We can hate them/those people as intently as we wish. But before we -know-, we should be very careful that we do not slip into a rather... Um... *Waves a hand* Nazi-esque? mindset, rounding up and punishing anyone that even remotely looks like they might be involved by the grace of their heritage.

In other words, please remain calm and in your homes. *Snerk* This concludes this episode of preaching to the choir.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 5:23 PM |

Oh, and what happened to me on Monday? It was what, in retrospect, amounts to a piddly little panic attack. One that sent me back home, crying all the way, from class. That has _never_ happened to me before, and it scared me. I feel, bizarrely enough, much much better today. *BlinkBlink* I had a good time in class today, though, and am looking forward to Friday despite the fact that I'm having a test.

I was going to say something else, but I can't remember what it was. Hm.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 5:29 PM |

Larry King is an asshole. All of the reporters asking 'how do/did you feel?' are assholes. *Ahem* I'm thinking it's time to turn the television off, now.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 5:32 PM |

Tuesday, September 11, 2001

Why? Who were 'they'? What the -fuck- do they think it's going to accomplish?

Dear CNN:

You can't call it an attack on all of America if only two places were attacked (if you can call a suicide dive an attack).

Please refrain from hysteric hyperbole until you have calmed down enough to think, thank you.

Vague loathing and general worriedness,
Shan
Posted by: Shannon M.: 8:15 AM |

From Acts Of Gord:

Note To Self:

Talking to a person about being into the hardcore gaming scene is completely different than talking to them about the hardcore anime scene. In future, I must find a new adjective.

And do not, I repeat, do not say "if she is really into the hardcore anime scene, I can get import DVD's from Japan and Hong Kong" when I'm talking to a 14 year old girl's mother.

Further notation: Do not attempt to salvage this by then saying "I mean, I can get DVD's from Japan that you can't get here."

Next time, say "really likes anime" and "can get DVD's not on sale here yet."
Posted by: Shannon M.: 5:57 PM |

Monday, September 10, 2001

Hee! I got mail from Scrubby! Unfortunately, my brain has gone flat and I cannot compose a decent email thank-you note right now. I think I must still be processing what happened this afternoon... More details later. (And, before anyone worries too much, I'm okay. No broken bones, no bleeding, no bruises. My hands are kinda dry, though. *Small snerk*)
Posted by: Shannon M.: 11:25 PM |

I want a clone (at -least- one!) of Evgeni Plushenko. And I'd probably need about a gallon of something tasty, edible, and the right consistency for pouring to go with. And a copy of T Mousse/Eroll Renall's Sex Bomb. *Innocent blink*

*Blinkle* Y'know, this makes -two- Evgenis that I've seen that I want cloned. Hm. (The other one being Evgeni Nabokov, the backup goalie for the SJ Sharks. Only 4 more days to go!)
Posted by: Shannon M.: 11:28 PM |

Sunday, September 09, 2001

i just turned off “band of brothers,” that new hbo miniseries. two hours is too much for me to devote to a tv show, i only lasted 35 minutes. also, it’s not about brothers, and there’s no band. it's about war. what a letdown - i was hoping to hear some good tunes.

Sometimes, I forget that not everyone is as well-read as I am... The moment I heard the show's name, I knew it was a war movie. *Shrug*
Posted by: Shannon M.: 6:13 PM |

I've been going through my tapes, figuring out what I can tape over. We're gonna need another cable box.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 6:47 PM |

Okay, so do P-tags _work_ in opera, or do I have to use something else? What other breaktags are there?

Break one nine, this here's the Duck...
Posted by: Shannon M.: 6:54 PM |

I guess the answer is 'no' and 'who knows', respectively. That's okay, I should learn to live without double-spacing. *Grumple* But I don'-waaaaana-!
Posted by: Shannon M.: 7:32 PM |