Ivy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ivybgreenflower) wrote2007-05-21 12:34 am
ivybgreenflower) wrote2007-05-21 12:34 am
Entry tags:
Irony
So, how's this for irony?
This morning, before I went to bed, I was looking for my old storyteller bible. I know I'm not religious, and I don't really believe the bible, but I wanted to read some of the stories again, because you have to admit, they're kind of funny. At least, they way they were written in this book for kids they were. Plus, my boyfriend wanted to see it, too.
So I was looking through a plastic tub of old papers for it, and I came across the front section of a newspaper among the old school papers.
Here's the irony. I was looking for a happy pleasant kids' bible, and I found this newspaper instead. What's so ironic about that? Well, I think the date on this particular edition of the St. Petersburg Times pretty much says it all:
Wednesday September 12, 2001.
The headline? "A NEW DAY OF INFAMY" printed in the largest text I have ever seen, period. The horrible picture of the second plane slamming into the second tower. A woman with a burned face. I don't know who that woman is, but I will never forget her, ever.
It happened six years ago, so it all feels like old memories, like a story. Part of me, most of me, looked over all of this with a great sense of familiarity. I know those pictures like I know my own face. The fireballs and the dust clouds are as burned into my consciousness as my own name, obviously. But a tiny part of me, the part that has since regained hope and felt peaceful and was almost kind of in denial, made me whisper involuntarily, "Oh my God!" Generally everything I say outloud is carefully thought about, I never usually have stuff slip out without thinking about it. But I sat there on the floor with this old newspaper in my hands, and "Oh my God" just came out, without conscious thought.
I didn't think I had, but I guess I forgot just how terrifying the whole ordeal was... and still should be. It was only six years ago. Only! Actually, more like five and a half years ago! How could I possibly have lulled myself into such a false sense of security?
I could go on and on about my memories of that day, but that's for another time. Right now I just want to think about why I reached in that plastic bin for a bible and came out with a handful of terror and destruction. If ever there was a time when something happened for a reason, that would have to be it. Maybe God's telling me that instead of focusing on silly stories from a zillion years ago, maybe I should be thinking about something more important. I don't really know.
-12:48 AM
This morning, before I went to bed, I was looking for my old storyteller bible. I know I'm not religious, and I don't really believe the bible, but I wanted to read some of the stories again, because you have to admit, they're kind of funny. At least, they way they were written in this book for kids they were. Plus, my boyfriend wanted to see it, too.
So I was looking through a plastic tub of old papers for it, and I came across the front section of a newspaper among the old school papers.
Here's the irony. I was looking for a happy pleasant kids' bible, and I found this newspaper instead. What's so ironic about that? Well, I think the date on this particular edition of the St. Petersburg Times pretty much says it all:
Wednesday September 12, 2001.
The headline? "A NEW DAY OF INFAMY" printed in the largest text I have ever seen, period. The horrible picture of the second plane slamming into the second tower. A woman with a burned face. I don't know who that woman is, but I will never forget her, ever.
It happened six years ago, so it all feels like old memories, like a story. Part of me, most of me, looked over all of this with a great sense of familiarity. I know those pictures like I know my own face. The fireballs and the dust clouds are as burned into my consciousness as my own name, obviously. But a tiny part of me, the part that has since regained hope and felt peaceful and was almost kind of in denial, made me whisper involuntarily, "Oh my God!" Generally everything I say outloud is carefully thought about, I never usually have stuff slip out without thinking about it. But I sat there on the floor with this old newspaper in my hands, and "Oh my God" just came out, without conscious thought.
I didn't think I had, but I guess I forgot just how terrifying the whole ordeal was... and still should be. It was only six years ago. Only! Actually, more like five and a half years ago! How could I possibly have lulled myself into such a false sense of security?
I could go on and on about my memories of that day, but that's for another time. Right now I just want to think about why I reached in that plastic bin for a bible and came out with a handful of terror and destruction. If ever there was a time when something happened for a reason, that would have to be it. Maybe God's telling me that instead of focusing on silly stories from a zillion years ago, maybe I should be thinking about something more important. I don't really know.
-12:48 AM