I just got hit on at Innovox.
I was enjoying the attention and the flirting, but when he suggested I find out how aroused he was, I told him to knock it off.
And then after I got rid of him, some guy emailed me to ask if I was looking for action tonight. Excuse me?
Looking at Amazon.com is a hell of a way to put your finger on the pulse of the nation. Right now the bestseller list is filled with books about terrorism, the World Trade Center, the Taliban, Nostradamus, the end of the world, and anything written by Barbara Olsen.
I've been walking around today in a perpetual state of worry -- lifted for a few whimsical moments when Ian dropped in by Innovox, but now back. This state was intensified by reading through the entries on Vidicon's friends list, which should surprise no one.
I'm just sick at heart thinking about all the innocents who are going to get hurt. Make no mistake, I believe we have to do something. Otherwise those responsible will attack again and kill more innocents. But my gosh, do we *have* to go about it in this clumsy, revenge-driven manner which politicians like Zell Miller are espousing? How dare he say "the hell with collateral damage." Got news for you buddy, WE'RE collateral damage. For the U.S. to go after innocent civilians with no regard just because we want blood makes us just as bad as the monsters who started this.
I know there's no way to keep civilians completely out of harm's way, but I'm not convinced that our leaders have considered the best ways to do what must be done. Right now the prevailing mood seems to be "kill 'em all," both there are here. I shudder when I hear about some of the things being said and done to Arab-Americans. Did someone miss the "American" part?
Tonight when I go to bed, I will pray for America, for all the American victims and heroes. And I will pray for the Afghanis too. Not all of them are the enemy. Most of them are just like you and me.
Today I called home to try and talk to my mom. Instead I got my brother.
I love Brad, but I don't really think he loves me. It's not that he doesn't love me, either, it's just something that doesn't cross his mind. I think he's still pissed because when we were kids, he always wanted to play with me, but I was your classic older sister who wanted the bratty little brother to leave me alone. Sometimes we did play nicely, with Legos and Construx. Those are perhaps my fondest childhood memories. I wish we had done that more often.
But now the shoe is on the other foot, and Brad's got no interest in his spoiled older sister. I talk to his girlfriend more than I talk to him. Every year or two we'll have a long brother-sister talk, but those are much further apart than I'd like.
But we're on the phone, so I ask him how he feels about this week.
"Not really anything. Mad, but nothin' else."
It reminded me of this picture of my family which I have in a cheap little frame. It was taken in Florida in front of the Jupiter Island lighthouse. Mom's just happy to be at a lighthouse. Dad, so charming to strangers and so strange to his own family, is smiling too. I'm cute and perky and thin, this photo being taken before my metabolism gave up and went south for the winter. And Brad? Tall, wearing sunglasses, expressionless... an enigma.
I just find it so strange that Brad is biologically my closest relative, the closest I'll ever have, and yet he and I are really strangers to one another.