Yeah... So I used to have this WONDERFUL tool built into Movable Type where I could upload a picture, choose whether I want an embedded image or a pop-up, and if I chose pop-up, I could specify the size of the thumbnail I wanted, it would make a perfectly sized popup window with no scrollbars or menus, and it would spit the lovely chunk of code out for me to paste wherever I pleased.
My webhost SWEARS that Image::Magick has been installed... Funny, Movable Type says it hasn't. And because of this, the reconstruction of my entire website is on hold until I figure out what the hell to do about this.
I think it goes without saying that I'm pretty peeved over it. So I got bored and changed templates... I don't particularly like ANY of the templates supplied with MT, but I got sick of looking at the navy blue/white one.
Enjoy.
Monday, September 30, 2002
Wednesday, September 11, 2002
Reflections of the past
It's been one year. One year ago today the world was changed. Today, on this first anniversary of September 11th, 2001, the pain of what we've witnessed has not faded for many, but rather intensified. I am one of those people who feels more sorrow today than I did as I watched the horrific events live on my television.
I, like everyone else in the world, will never forget where I was and what I was feeling as terrorists brought down the World Trade Center, four planes, and part of the Pentagon. Being in California, it was just past 6am when my mother came in to wake me up for work. Being a deep sleeper, I didn't pay much attention when I heard her say someone crashed a plane into the World Trade Center and dozed back off for that extra precious fifteen minutes of sleep. Shortly after, she came in again and told me that a second plane had hit. I can still hear her softly saying "Christine, we're under attack." Still not quite understanding what she meant, I quietly slipped out of bed so as not to wake my (at the time) boyfriend. I followed my mother up to her bedroom where the news was blaring from the television, and was instantly awake the moment my eyes fell upon the screen. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
Initially, I was still confused as to what was going on and stood in front of the TV numb with shock as my mother summed up what had happened so far. It seemed like every three seconds the news reporters were talking of other suspected planes in the air whose whereabouts were unknown and I wondered what kind of lashing (if any) I would get for not coming into work that day. I finally resolved to go into the office, but ended up being quite late because I couldn't pry my eyes from the TV to get dressed and brush my hair. As I watched the towers burning, though the cameras were far away, I could see things falling from the windows and it hit me: My god, those are people. How bad must it be in there for them to decide that leaping out the windows would be a better fate? I had not been thinking of the people on the floors below the crash sites. It never occured to me that they might not make it out. I started counting what windows were left in the areas where the planes hit and from that guessed that about ten floors had been destroyed. I wondered how the people above those floors would possibly get down. I was suprised I saw no choppers heading for the roof to lift away any people who thought to get up there, that is if there was any way an aircraft could navigate through all that smoke in the first place. Then the camera zoomed in on the missing floors of Tower One and I got a good glimpse of how empty all those floors were. Not much other than a few steel beams appeared to be supporting the numerous stories above, and in a daze, I said to my mother, "Oh my god, look at where the plane hit. There's nothing there, just a hole! How the hell is that building still standing?" And literally no more than five seconds after I finished that sentence, the steel beams gave and Tower One was no more. As I watched the building coming down and realizing how many people must be inside there, and imagining the horror of what the victims must be feeling at that very moment as they lost their lives, I couldn't breathe and ran to the bathroom as the contents of my stomach made their way up my esophagus. I was so confused and filled with so many mixed emotions that I couldn't think straight at all. But unable to look at my television any longer, I hugged my mother, told her I loved her, and headed out to the office. And just minutes later, sitting in traffic while listening to the radio, I heard a report of the second tower having come down as well.
The rest of that morning, the thing I remember most is the faces of the people I encountered. I stopped near my work for a smoothie to try and calm my stomach and get something cold in me to help stop my tears, and this smoothie shop that is normally full of life seemed so surreal to me. There were several people in there, but no one spoke a word. All the faces had a somber blank stare, as did mine, while everyone was trying to comprehend what was happening. When I reached the office, I was suprised and appaled that my coworkers were not mourning, but rather spewing racist remarks about turning the whole middle-east into a parking lot before we even knew who had attacked us. I was so angry that day. And confused, scared, and overwhelmingly sad.
Now, one year later, I still feel those emotions, but the one that has grown in intensity is my sadness. I did not know anyone who was killed that day in the attacks, but my heart goes out to all those lost lives and the families and friends who mourn them. Details from survivors have been told and we now know some of what was happening inside those buildings. A flood of pictures have been released of the faces of those who were there in Manhatten as well as the families of those lost. And though I can never fully understand what those people must be feeling, I have had a year to absorb the details and understand what this all means for the future, and my grief over what happened has only grown. I am terrified for what the future holds now, what it will hold for my children, if I live long enough to have any. Nothing we do can ever bring back the people who died that day, but I hope the American people banding together and comforting each other will continue to make us stronger and be a part of what is written in the history books for generations to come. I will never forget the emotions from that day (as well as today, I can't seem to stop crying no matter what I do) and I will be sure to tell my children and grandchildren about those events from the perspectives that their classrooms will not include.
I for one will never forget what was lost one year ago today.
I, like everyone else in the world, will never forget where I was and what I was feeling as terrorists brought down the World Trade Center, four planes, and part of the Pentagon. Being in California, it was just past 6am when my mother came in to wake me up for work. Being a deep sleeper, I didn't pay much attention when I heard her say someone crashed a plane into the World Trade Center and dozed back off for that extra precious fifteen minutes of sleep. Shortly after, she came in again and told me that a second plane had hit. I can still hear her softly saying "Christine, we're under attack." Still not quite understanding what she meant, I quietly slipped out of bed so as not to wake my (at the time) boyfriend. I followed my mother up to her bedroom where the news was blaring from the television, and was instantly awake the moment my eyes fell upon the screen. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
Initially, I was still confused as to what was going on and stood in front of the TV numb with shock as my mother summed up what had happened so far. It seemed like every three seconds the news reporters were talking of other suspected planes in the air whose whereabouts were unknown and I wondered what kind of lashing (if any) I would get for not coming into work that day. I finally resolved to go into the office, but ended up being quite late because I couldn't pry my eyes from the TV to get dressed and brush my hair. As I watched the towers burning, though the cameras were far away, I could see things falling from the windows and it hit me: My god, those are people. How bad must it be in there for them to decide that leaping out the windows would be a better fate? I had not been thinking of the people on the floors below the crash sites. It never occured to me that they might not make it out. I started counting what windows were left in the areas where the planes hit and from that guessed that about ten floors had been destroyed. I wondered how the people above those floors would possibly get down. I was suprised I saw no choppers heading for the roof to lift away any people who thought to get up there, that is if there was any way an aircraft could navigate through all that smoke in the first place. Then the camera zoomed in on the missing floors of Tower One and I got a good glimpse of how empty all those floors were. Not much other than a few steel beams appeared to be supporting the numerous stories above, and in a daze, I said to my mother, "Oh my god, look at where the plane hit. There's nothing there, just a hole! How the hell is that building still standing?" And literally no more than five seconds after I finished that sentence, the steel beams gave and Tower One was no more. As I watched the building coming down and realizing how many people must be inside there, and imagining the horror of what the victims must be feeling at that very moment as they lost their lives, I couldn't breathe and ran to the bathroom as the contents of my stomach made their way up my esophagus. I was so confused and filled with so many mixed emotions that I couldn't think straight at all. But unable to look at my television any longer, I hugged my mother, told her I loved her, and headed out to the office. And just minutes later, sitting in traffic while listening to the radio, I heard a report of the second tower having come down as well.
The rest of that morning, the thing I remember most is the faces of the people I encountered. I stopped near my work for a smoothie to try and calm my stomach and get something cold in me to help stop my tears, and this smoothie shop that is normally full of life seemed so surreal to me. There were several people in there, but no one spoke a word. All the faces had a somber blank stare, as did mine, while everyone was trying to comprehend what was happening. When I reached the office, I was suprised and appaled that my coworkers were not mourning, but rather spewing racist remarks about turning the whole middle-east into a parking lot before we even knew who had attacked us. I was so angry that day. And confused, scared, and overwhelmingly sad.
Now, one year later, I still feel those emotions, but the one that has grown in intensity is my sadness. I did not know anyone who was killed that day in the attacks, but my heart goes out to all those lost lives and the families and friends who mourn them. Details from survivors have been told and we now know some of what was happening inside those buildings. A flood of pictures have been released of the faces of those who were there in Manhatten as well as the families of those lost. And though I can never fully understand what those people must be feeling, I have had a year to absorb the details and understand what this all means for the future, and my grief over what happened has only grown. I am terrified for what the future holds now, what it will hold for my children, if I live long enough to have any. Nothing we do can ever bring back the people who died that day, but I hope the American people banding together and comforting each other will continue to make us stronger and be a part of what is written in the history books for generations to come. I will never forget the emotions from that day (as well as today, I can't seem to stop crying no matter what I do) and I will be sure to tell my children and grandchildren about those events from the perspectives that their classrooms will not include.
I for one will never forget what was lost one year ago today.
Wednesday, September 4, 2002
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