Lana feels

The world blew up today. Well, okay, not the world. That may come tomorrow. Depending on whether or not somebody restrains that idiot Bush. But today. Today the World Trade Center blew up. Imploded, actually. Today somebody crashed commercial airliners into the World Trade Center. My initial reaction was giddiness. Cesca told me. I said, wow, that's so cool, anarchy comes! I forgot the 40,000 people who work there. Who live near there. Who were on that airplane. Then I remembered them. And now I'm conflicted. Because I really do think this is a good thing, and there really is a part of me that doesn't give a shit about how many people are dead. It's liberating, in a way, because I'm supposed to care. I just don't. It doesn't affect me, on a deep level. Yes, I think it's horrible, I think they should have done this at night when nobody was there, but I also don't really care in my heart. I'm curious, and fascinated, and I want to see what happens next and who did it and so on and so forth but I'm not hurting, I'm not crying, I'm not feeling it. I'm thinking, Anarchy! Chaos! I'm hoping nobody I know was there, though it's entirely possible. I'm wishing I could get in touch with my parents. Now I have to go to advisor group, but let it be said. The world blew up today and I'm enjoying it.