On anniversaries and possible apocalypses

Before I actually get into talking about stuff, I just want to say this:


Dear global warming, and those who are causing it,

FUCK YOU.

Everlasting loathing,
gr33n_sl33ves


There now! That feels better.

Anyway, to the point I was going to make, this being the 6th anniversary of the whole 9/11 thing, I figured I'd make obligatory 9/11 post.

First off I'd like to say, HOLY SHIT, HAS IT REALLY BEEN SIX YEARS SINCE THAT HAPPENED?!?! Time certainly does fly...

(And, yeah, okay, this was technically posted on the 12th, but I started writing it on the 11th! I just got a little sidetracked because I was posting a stupid video up on YouTube…)

While I remember what happened, I don't remember it like it happened yesterday, because truth be told, I was half asleep for the beginning of it. It was the beginning of the school year, I'd just started grade 10, and my most pressing concerns were doing homework and beating a friend of mine in the Kill Everyone Project (and by the way, I did).

As was the norm for most Tuesday mornings, I was trying to sleep in as late as I could. My dad came into my room to wake me up, and sounding as though he couldn’t believe what he was saying, he told me that someone had attacked the towers. And I, in my sleep-addled state, thought he was making some kind of Lord of the Rings reference, or maybe perhaps this was some kind of April Fool's thing. It was that kind of disconnected feeling.

"No," he said, "Someone crashed a plane into the World Trade Center,"

I followed him into my parent’s bedroom, where my mother was watching the news, just in time to see the second plane crash.

Surreal is the only way I can describe that morning. There I was, getting ready for school, just like always, and people were leaping from the towers in some kind of perverse attempt to save themselves. The juxtaposition of the normalcy of my everyday routine and the carnage happening on the other side of the continent was jarring, to say the least, and all I can remember about the rest of the day is just a blur of sensation.

Everyone at school was subdued, the teachers distracted, and even the most boisterous students didn't dare to cause a ruckus. The TVs scattered around the school, which usually displayed announcements of upcoming events, or projects completed by the digital arts class, were instead showing news coverage from ground zero. And as odd as it may sound, the thing that bothered me the most about that day was walking home and not seeing a single plane in the sky.

But the thing I remember the most about that day was not the carnage or the sounding of metaphorical war horns, but the feeling as though the whole world was looking at this one event in horror, as if the entire world had paused to utter, collectively, "How did we get to be this way?"

For a brief moment, it felt as thought the world was united. Purpose, reason, race, religion, age, sexual orientation, none of it mattered, because for one instant, we were one people, watching in horror as we killed each other.

But, as with anything of meaning, the moment was over too soon. People got back to their lives, some unaffected, others piecing together what they could. War was declared on the Middle East, and Bush, who had not days ago been touted as a sham president who only got in because he rigged an election, suddenly had the entirety of the United States backing him up. Terror became a keyword, the masses suddenly filled with hate and loathing for those who looked even the least bit Arabic.

When I was younger, I used to be jealous of my parents because they lived through such historic events like the first supersonic flight, the moon landing, the invention of the Internet and the dawn of the computer age. I used wonder what things of historic relevance would happen in my day and age. All my wonderings were full of explorations of the depths of the sea, journeys to other worlds, cures for diseases and the child-like wish for world peace.

Instead we have war, famine, pestilence, death, global warming, fear, ignorance, hate, indifference and porn. If ever the bible is rewritten, the Four Horsemen are going to be joined by their six cousins.

I used to wonder what my generation would be remembered for, and now I have my answer: We're the generation that's going to have to clean up the mess. And while there are a lot of good, decent people out there, on the whole, we're pretty fucked.

To whoever becomes the president of the US next, I am truly, sincerely sorry. You're going to have a hell of a wreck ahead of you, and I really hope you’re up to the task of cleaning house.

And an aside to that, I am so glad I'm Canadian.


To end on a lighter note (because talking about sorry state of the world is a wee bit depressing), I leave you with my virtual body count, because digital death is a million times better than the real thing.