Morning.

No news on yet; I wanted to get my thoughts down, first.

Apologies to anyone who felt overwhelmed by the amount of text I dumped in here yesterday; I tend to be scattered when shocked, and babbling is one of my responses to something I can't encompass. Maybe my strongest.

( The rest of this is just about that, and dreams. )

News Musings.

Not much new that I see, this morning, on a quick scan. But two phrases I don't like at all.

"When we get the final toll, it will be more than we can bear."

No. It will be more than we want to, I imagine. It may be more than we can comprehend. But if it is more than we can bear...then where do we go from here?


The nation being in "controlled fury". I wish more of it felt controlled to me. Fury alone does not serve. And secondly...secondly, what about all the people who are sad, or merely scared?

I just hope it is controlled, in the end. The fury, that is, from those who feel it. Action is one thing; mad rampages are another.

Anti-Islamic sentiments are apparently growing. I didn't look at that too hard; I don't need to. It's no surprise, and it's a great sadness.

There were almost certainly Islamic people in the towers when they were destroyed. Arabic-descent, and Islamic, residents of the U.S., unless they participated in the terrorist activities in some fashion, are not the enemy. They are us, and if we treat them as the enemy, we betray ourselves.

Foreign-born, foreign-resident, Arabic, Islamic people are also not the enemy, unless they participated in the terrorist activities in some fashion. Even if they celebrated what happened, or sneered at us, no matter what, if they did not participate in physically attacking us, they are not the enemy.

I only wish I thought the people who need to hear this, would be reading my journal. I'm pretty sure those who do - know.

Something Else Worth Reading.

Yes, this is more on the terrorist attack - and this piece is not mine, but was written in response to reading my journal. Off-site link warning. It can be read here.

When I was little.

And, in an entirely different vein from the news of the past days, some stories of when I was little. A bit of background to this: less than a week ago, I started (I don't recall how just now!) telling a friend (aka captive audience) a few stories about me as a child. I was a really...fascinating...child, I think. And I don't necessarily mean that in a positive light! I think raising one of me would give me grey hair. All at once. All down the length of it.

But it amuses me. I like these stories; they're part of my life. I like sharing them. So I decided that I would write them up and post them here. And then I realized: tons of these are when I was little. Some of them I know from my memory, some from memory of my parents' stories, some from both. I might actually (gasp!) be wrong.

So I emailed them off to my parents, for corrections and additions. I actually had the responses back a couple days ago, but I didn't get around to it, and then I was following the news.

( Warning, this is going to get long. )

Other stories.

And, courtesy of Mom, a few more stories. Where they include other people's names, I've edited them a bit, but otherwise they're intact. Most of these I've selected because they're funny in their own right, but one or two are here as much because I think they are very accurate about who I am, as because they're funny.

( Lengthy, though not as long as the first. )