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It's loud.
Feb. 15th, 2003 11:05 pmNorth is making even me annoyed. Poor Rachel, I know how much noise after late bugs her. And my dearest Robin, I'm glad she's not here. I hope she doesn't come back, too, until late enough that North has shut the hell up and passed out. Only then will this neighborhood be peaceful and tolerable again.
I did manage to miss the first half of it. Benj and Mikel and Megan and I went down to Pomona for Bowling for Columbine, the documentary that explored guns and gun-craziness and stuff and why Americans are stupid and violent. It turns out that there really is no reason. Americans are stupid, is what it boils down to. I try to be better than that, and I'm not sure how well I succeed. Being in the priveleged class already, it can be difficult to see through the glass ceiling from the top.
On a more personal note, the movie made me realize how isolated my emotions really are. They don't often affect me, but when they do, I can't do anything to affect them. The movie had a few sequences that slammed into me like a hammer to the chest, drawing my breath short and tears from my eyes. Security camera footage of the shooters. The darkened empty halls of Columbine. Broadway lanes, and the AMF lanes, where Harris and Klebold went bowling that morning, and people were shot just last year. And all through it, the thought that it's all so close to home, that I've been bowling there with Nate and Evan and Jeremy and Anya and Daryn and countless others. It all came rushing back, and there was nothing I could do against it.
I'm better now, feeling fine except for the loudness and a strange desire for the gentle soothing tones of the more emotional and less violent half of my playlist, the kind of stuff that picks you up and sweeps you away in musical poetry. Either that, or emo.
click
I did manage to miss the first half of it. Benj and Mikel and Megan and I went down to Pomona for Bowling for Columbine, the documentary that explored guns and gun-craziness and stuff and why Americans are stupid and violent. It turns out that there really is no reason. Americans are stupid, is what it boils down to. I try to be better than that, and I'm not sure how well I succeed. Being in the priveleged class already, it can be difficult to see through the glass ceiling from the top.
On a more personal note, the movie made me realize how isolated my emotions really are. They don't often affect me, but when they do, I can't do anything to affect them. The movie had a few sequences that slammed into me like a hammer to the chest, drawing my breath short and tears from my eyes. Security camera footage of the shooters. The darkened empty halls of Columbine. Broadway lanes, and the AMF lanes, where Harris and Klebold went bowling that morning, and people were shot just last year. And all through it, the thought that it's all so close to home, that I've been bowling there with Nate and Evan and Jeremy and Anya and Daryn and countless others. It all came rushing back, and there was nothing I could do against it.
I'm better now, feeling fine except for the loudness and a strange desire for the gentle soothing tones of the more emotional and less violent half of my playlist, the kind of stuff that picks you up and sweeps you away in musical poetry. Either that, or emo.
click
