#9/11 experiences

[shironezuninja]

We all had different experiences and emotions on today 23 years ago. Mine wasn’t so somber and empathetic, so thank Kami-Sama for no social media back then. My Self Centered’s Guilt would’ve been even worse today. Hell, I’ve pictured a grim alternative scenario where I had long “offed” myself years ago. VA’s are my idols.

[thatnerdio]

Guys, I need to know something (if you're american)

[call-me-maggie13]

My late 40s to early 50s boss just asked what’s wrong with 18-25 year olds these days

And as a 21 year old all I could think was

The world has been on fire since we were born and we’ve been told the adults are putting it out and now we’re old enough to realize they’ve been pouring kerosene on the flames instead of water.

Before my first birthday, 9/11 happened and the world wouldn’t let us forget it. When I was 6 years old, on September 11th, my teacher sat us down in front of a tv and showed us footage of 9/11 and then told us we weren’t allowed to cry. She said that it was real and those were real people jumping from the building because jumping was a faster death than burning.

When I was 7 years old, the economy collapsed and my family went from lower middle class to poverty, we went from healthy home cooked meals every night to mac and cheese and beans for weeks in a row. We started skipping holidays because mom and dad couldn’t keep the lights on and buy us new toys. We started wearing clothes and shoes until they fell apart.

When I was 11 years old, Sandy Hook was attacked by a grown man with a gun and 26 children and teachers were brutally murdered. My teachers never looked at us the same and I haven’t felt safe in a school since. After that, once a month we would have active shooter drills and we were taught to fight and cause as much damage as possible if an armed man entered our classroom because it gave other classes a few extra seconds to escape, it gave our siblings a few extra breaths of safety. We were taught to cover ourselves in other students blood and play dead if we weren’t hit, we were taught that we weren’t safe and we wouldn’t be safe as long as we were in school.

When I was 15 years old, my high school art teacher locked us in the classroom and told us if we heard gunshots we should line the desks up lengthwise so that they reached the other wall because that would be harder to break through than a barricade. She told us that she knew about the threats and she wouldn’t judge any of us that wanted to leave. She told us to get our siblings and stay in the buildings as long as possible, to duck in between the cars so we couldn’t be seen until we got to ours. She told us about the trail behind the auto shop that was lined with trees and led off campus. I got my brother and his friends and we left, we spent the day sitting on the floor in my living room waiting for a phone call that the people we left behind were dying.

Two weeks later, one of my friends dragged me out of a football game and forced me to go home with him. He grabbed my brothers and my best friend and forced the six of us into a two seater car before he would tell us anything. His mom worked for the school board and had told him the police found an active bomb under the bleachers in the student section, and they weren’t informing anyone because they didn’t want to incite panic.

When I was 16 years old, ISIS set off a bomb at a pop concert in Britain and killed 22 people, injuring at least 100 more. The next day at school, our teachers went over how to stay safe if we ever experienced something like that. They told us the most important thing to remember was to not remove any shrapnel because it could be keeping us from bleeding out, they said it was more important to get yourself out safely before you worried about anyone else.

When I was 18 years old, my teachers stopped teaching and put the news up on the projector and we watched as the Notre-Dame burned. The boy I had sat next to since second grade spent the entire day trying to call his sister who was studying abroad in Paris, I watched this kid I had never even seen frown fall apart in English because she wouldn’t pick up the phone. We didn’t know it at the time, but she was okay.

Six months later, my history teacher put the news on the projector again for another fire. This time, we watched as an entire continent burned for three months. We watched their sky turned orange from the smoke and their wildlife drowned in pools because they were trying to escape the heat.

When I was 19 years old, the whole world shut down because of a global pandemic. I didn’t meet a single new person for eight months, despite the fact that I had just moved across the country. I watched as people didn’t wear masks and spread it to everyone around them, I was so scared when I went back to my room every night because my roommate was immunocompromised and I was terrified I would give her Covid and kill her.

Just two months later, I watched a video of a black man being murdered by police officers. I watched the world around me explode after George Floyd’s death, people destroying businesses and police stations. I watched some of my friends realize police officers didn’t exist to keep them safe, they existed to keep the people in power in power. I learned that some of the people I had grown up with would rather watch a black man die than admit that maybe, maybe, the system was broken.

When I was 20 years old, I went to the mall with a friend to buy a birthday present and I was pulled to the ground by a twelve-year-old girl after gunshots went off in the mall. I held this child’s hands as she cried for two hours until we were evacuated by police, and then I waited with her outside and helped her look for her mom. I gave her my phone to call her mom and I watched as she called the number over and over and never got a reply. I waited with her until a police officer took her to the station to try to find out more information about the girl’s mom, I hugged this girl I had never seen before and I wished her the best. I never found out what happened to her or her mom, it keeps me up at night sometimes worrying that this little girl was orphaned.

When I was 21 years old, I started working at a daycare and exactly a week later, Uvalde happened and I found myself crying because my students are the same age those kids were. When they came in after school the next day, one of them had asked me if I had heard about Uvalde and I told her I had, I asked her if she was scared of going to school because of it. Her reply broke my heart. “We practice for it every week so that when it happens to us, we know what to do. I’m just worried that the shooter is going to start in my baby sister’s classroom and not mine.” I listened as other students with younger siblings agreed with her, one of them saying “I would take fifty bullets, if I had to to keep my little brother safe.”

Early this year, I watched Russia launched bombs into Ukraine, blowing up churches and schools and hospitals and apartment buildings. I watched as the estimated death count rose from the hundreds to the thousands to the tens of thousands. I watched men send their wives and children to bordering countries for refuge while they stayed behind to fight, knowing they would probably never see each other again.

Just four months ago, I watched as my right to medical privacy got taken away. I watched my old roommate fall apart because she was denied the right to have her dead fetus removed from her body for almost two days, I worried every time I looked away from her that the next time I saw her would be in a casket. I watched as the women around me realized the military-grade weapons that had torn children in classrooms apart were protected by the government but our bodies weren’t.

There is nothing “wrong” with my generation, we’ve experienced all these things as children and were expected to respond with patriotism for a country that continuously sacrificed their children for the “right” to military-grade weapons, that took away my freedom of choice. We are tired, we were told the world was a wonderful place then shown, at every step, how the world was a place of destruction and pain. And we are angry. We are angry because no one but us seems to be trying to fix anything. And we are scared. We are scared because our children, our nieces and nephews, our cousins and our friends children are growing up in a world that won’t protect them.

[prostocupoftea]

finally. i am free. now have this map part i was doing for whole of last month

more like last two weeks bc of how i procrastinated the shit out of it :')

also yes this is the same map as this post. ghfhgfdjh i hove their part so much go look if you haven't (which you statistically probably have)

anyways. *hypnotizes you into liking it*

Also woe! backgrounds under the cut! too much effort went into split second stuff so now you have to see it!

windows startup backround is... significantly lower-effort than other ones (: mostly bc it was made last and i got laizy, also bc i do not like painting nature

first one is now my profile top bc i like i so much

second was good to hide stuff in

and others are... there, i guess. my energy ran out for them unfortunately lol

[abortionado]

Please reblog for a larger sample size I'm really curious about this

(I meant *in school btw but I can't edit)

[ducktracy]

reminder that if you're not watching Crayon Shin-chan then you are living a hollow and empty life. this is not edited. this ripped straight from the movie (Movie 8: Jungle That Invites the Storm, highly recommend for fellow Masaaki Yuasa lovers)

if you need further convincing: these monkeys run an animation sweatshop

[gay-little-axolotl]

*crowd booing*

[darthkieduss]

Children of September 11

Shadows in the sky so high As the towers screamed to the ground Fear in the eyes of a child Echoes of silence all around

World turned to gray that day Memories in a young heart stay Flames and smoke lit up the screen Haunting dreams don't fade away

[Chorus] Hearts breaking everywhere Lives lost in the burning air I can't forget the screams and fire Living now in fear's desire

8 years old with eyes so wide Innocence lost deep inside Watching the world come crashing down Nowhere safe in my hometown

[Bridge] Years pass but the scars remain Living through this endless pain Trying to heal what's broken within Strength to rise and begin again

[Chorus] Hearts breaking everywhere Lives lost in the burning air I can't forget the screams and fire Living now in fear's desire

[ccelestialfox]

wooo day 25 (?) heres gee watching 9/11 happen

pfft-- did not expect that omg

this was an eventful day... for my chemical romance

i think,, please please correct me if im wrong but people kept saying that

[godlyavenger]

serial experiments lain being on air while 9/11 happened is pretty lore accurate

[the-dubbel-experiments]

Log 17. 11/9

Me and my colleagues have recently discovered that the hunger phenomenon was caused by a mistake when switching organs, specifically the stomach, and connecting it to the nerves of the other twin. This combined with the psychosis caused by 2b’s mental state is what we believe caused the murder subsequent cannibalism of 1b.

This has been fixed.

[feralnumberfive]

Had an interesting coincidence at the airport today (9/11). We had a rare aircraft, one that we've seen before but is rarely scheduled for this flight and maybe stops by five times a year, which happened to be the same type of aircraft that hit the South Tower (except for one minor difference due to this jet being a cargo conversion though it was a former passenger jet)

[deuynndoodles]

something incredibly funny just happened to me

i had a depressive breakdown. tears, intrusive thoughts, the works. bored so i open up my phone

my friend sent a gif of 9/11 reenacted in totk

i start laughing so hard that im just completely shocked outta my depression. 10/10 would experience again

[sprites4ever]

If I ever have more money than sense, remind me to buy a bunch of land in the desert and two Boeing 757-200s.

I'll hire a construction company to recreate one of the Twin Towers as accurately as possible twice, one built just like how the original was built, and the second built with improvements that would have been possible at the time, which Trump Co. (yes, THAT Trump) cheaped out on.

Then, I'll carry out the most insane scientific experiment in recent history to hopefully settle the debate on whether or not 9/11 was an inside job because the Twin Towers may or may not have needed explosive charges to collapse the way they did.

[spaghett-onaplate]

it's literally not a good idea in any way shape or form but I want to get a second job in fast food

[remembertheplunge]

Writing Outside The Lines

November 9, 1986. Sunday

It’s been a nice weekend of big movement. I’ve been rereading diary entries from August to December 1983. I felt like God looking down: interceding, judging, commenting. And, generally being amazed at the graphic changes that occurred in that time span. The month of August started with me writing …right within the lines and margin (of the journal page) (As in life) I just fit perfectly into everybody’s little boxes. A coffin of conformity. Sufficating.

But then TM (Transcendental Meditation), Tristan Rainer (author of The New Diary) and Rainbow Clan punched in a few tiny air holes. And, I could see pin pricks of blue sky and shafts of hazy light strike and rekindled an ember of self love in my breast. And, I bust loose from the lines. And I’ve been moving to resurrect from that grave and airless place of conformity ever since! 

End of this part of the entry.

Notes: 5/15/2024

I’m posting a photo the page from my 11/9/1986 journal entry in which I demonstrate on the page how I went from writing within the lines on the page to busting through and writing outside the lines. This reflected how I was beginning to bust out of the constraints of my life.

From August to December of 1983, I was married to a woman and was trying to live a very straight existence. But, the 11/9/1986 journal entry reveals that massive change was welling up within me during this period. It would result in my coming out at a Sage event in February 1984 and coming out to and leaving my wife inn July-August 1984.

(Sage was an event that lasted several days. At least 100 of us were guided through different ways of expressing our being. I came out for the first time to a group of strangers during one of the Sage sessions.)

When I review former journal entries, I do kind of feel like God. I know how the story turns out. I see the events of the day I wrote about in the journal entry through the trajectory of events since then. But, unlike God, I can’t change what happened in the past.  I can "intercede , judge and comment” in the journal margins in the hope of integrating the past event with the present continuum.

I was 28 in 1983 and 31 in 1986.

Tristan Rainer wrote “The New Diary” in which she broght a novel approach to the journal writing experience. 

I’m not sure what the Rainbow Clan was, but, if I find out from reviewing the ’83 journal I will blog about it.