I know I said I wasn't going to post anything else today about the terror situation in London, but I can't help it.
Not being home means I've got no one to share how I feel about what has happened. Instead, I've been overdosing on web-based news footage; graphic photostreams on Flickr; and blog entries from equally stunned wannabe writers like me.
If I was back in Australia right now, I'd be sitting on my couch, glued to the TV, trading can-you-believe-its and this-is-incredibles with my mother. Most likely. But instead I'm overseas, miles away from anyone who cares what I think about things like this. So I resort to sharing it here. Sure, it's one-way communication, but at least it's an outlet. Indulge me, if you dare.
If I was back in Australia right now, I'd be sitting on my couch, glued to the TV, trading can-you-believe-its and this-is-incredibles with my mother. Most likely. But instead I'm overseas, miles away from anyone who cares what I think about things like this. So I resort to sharing it here. Sure, it's one-way communication, but at least it's an outlet. Indulge me, if you dare.
I remember dealing with the 9/11 attacks the same way. When Sandra Sully told me about the Twin Towers on the late news, I gaped like a goldfish in sheer disbelief. I was house sitting then, so I was alone. I reached for the phone, not minding it was 11pm Aussie time, and rang Mum. She picked up the phone after about 1/2 a ring. The hushed, urgent voice down the phone whispered, "hello?" and I launched into "can you believe this? What's going on? What do you know?" interrogation. But we talked on the phone, and listened to Sandra simultaneously.
And like the 9/11 attacks and their aftermath, I find myself like some sort of morbid sponge. Back then I soaked up every bit of information I could, and did it all again once the one-year anniversary rolled around. Is it some sort of perversion that makes me do this? If it's information I'm seeking, you would think I'd feel better having it. But no, it actually depresses me (DUH) and then I look for that glimmer of hope somewhere. I looked for it then, and I look for it now.
Clearly my happy news came from the one-line text and email from my friends, not from the news bytes of CNN or the others. Hearing they were safe and well effectively disconnected me from the tragic situation in London. And yet I can't look away from it.
Clearly my happy news came from the one-line text and email from my friends, not from the news bytes of CNN or the others. Hearing they were safe and well effectively disconnected me from the tragic situation in London. And yet I can't look away from it.
Is that wrong?
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