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raybearOn the train this morning the batteries for my walkman died in the midst of the The Streets and before I was two stops away from my own. I haven't been able to make it past side one of my own mixtape yet, because of various ridiculous reasons. I felt perturbed for a moment, then sat back and allowed myself to be okay with silence. I would later pull out a magazine, but initially I started to think about the possibility of writing about this weekend and the shuttle crash.
Dave beat me to it. Well, a lot of people obviously wrote about it earlier, but this morning he wrote an entry that articulated some things I was thinking and feeling, as well as some responses I hadn't really thought about it.
I felt like a heartless bastard on Saturday morning. I had the television turned to the news but left the sound off. I learned the story soley through tickertape bites and a few bits online. I went into the bedroom and told MelRo about it and made a few comments about my lack of devastation, in part it just didn't feel shocking to me. It was a risky mission and they understood the possibility of problems.
Obviously the sudden and violent loss of any person is a hard situation, but somehow it feels self-indulgent and egocentric to believe this somehow affects me more or as much as the families/friends of those who die. It somehow trivializes the whole situation to walk around thinking about how horrible the crash was for me or even just trying to imagine how I would react. This is a luxury that real people who are part of the situation don't have.
Dave (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cruelnails) talked about how 9/11 stopped him ever thinking "this can't be happening" when something big and new and tragic occurs. I feel the same way. Now when something violent or tragic or upsetting happens, I can still be appalled or scared or angry, but not really that surprised.
But I also feel like a new line was drawn. I no longer have any interest on getting off on other people's pain and tragedy. I learned there's a big difference between being there and not being there. This is not to say I can't be scared or learn a lesson, but to act as if my life changed in the same way as someone who was actually there and experienced it is ridiculous and stupid and self-indulgent and narcissistic. And to sit around and wonder what it must be like for the people are there is equally so.
I'm an extremely empathethic and sympathetic person. But to me, that means I don't make things about me. I might think about how it applies to my life and think in different ways, but that still doesn't make it about me. And figuring out the difference between those two things seems a little more clear to me.
Or maybe people don't need to die a fiery death to remind me that life is fragile and temporary and intense and valuable.
Dave beat me to it. Well, a lot of people obviously wrote about it earlier, but this morning he wrote an entry that articulated some things I was thinking and feeling, as well as some responses I hadn't really thought about it.
I felt like a heartless bastard on Saturday morning. I had the television turned to the news but left the sound off. I learned the story soley through tickertape bites and a few bits online. I went into the bedroom and told MelRo about it and made a few comments about my lack of devastation, in part it just didn't feel shocking to me. It was a risky mission and they understood the possibility of problems.
Obviously the sudden and violent loss of any person is a hard situation, but somehow it feels self-indulgent and egocentric to believe this somehow affects me more or as much as the families/friends of those who die. It somehow trivializes the whole situation to walk around thinking about how horrible the crash was for me or even just trying to imagine how I would react. This is a luxury that real people who are part of the situation don't have.
Dave (
cruelnails) talked about how 9/11 stopped him ever thinking "this can't be happening" when something big and new and tragic occurs. I feel the same way. Now when something violent or tragic or upsetting happens, I can still be appalled or scared or angry, but not really that surprised.But I also feel like a new line was drawn. I no longer have any interest on getting off on other people's pain and tragedy. I learned there's a big difference between being there and not being there. This is not to say I can't be scared or learn a lesson, but to act as if my life changed in the same way as someone who was actually there and experienced it is ridiculous and stupid and self-indulgent and narcissistic. And to sit around and wonder what it must be like for the people are there is equally so.
I'm an extremely empathethic and sympathetic person. But to me, that means I don't make things about me. I might think about how it applies to my life and think in different ways, but that still doesn't make it about me. And figuring out the difference between those two things seems a little more clear to me.
Or maybe people don't need to die a fiery death to remind me that life is fragile and temporary and intense and valuable.
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I know how you feel
Date: 2003-02-03 08:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-02-03 08:55 am (UTC)The reason the Challenger was a bigger deal is because they had a school teacher aboard. That fact meant that most elementary, jr high and high school science curricula integrated the Challenger into their studies for weeks before it launched. That's why so many students were watching it on TV the day it blew up (including us because we're all about the same age.)
Sadly, interest in the space program has waned considerably since then and budget cuts have hurt it as well. Maybe this incident will renew some interest in the program ... but I'm not sure and I'm not counting on it. I wish we would spend more money on space exploration.
no subject
Date: 2003-02-03 10:02 am (UTC)Mind you I wasn't all that broken up about 9/11 either. Sure it was a bad thing, terrible. But I wasn't suffering. Maybe it has to do with the death I encountered while in the Army. You just get this other perspective.
no subject
Date: 2003-02-04 11:46 am (UTC)Or maybe people don't need to die a fiery death to remind me that life is fragile and temporary and intense and valuable.
You hit it on this last sentence. I think that, especially since 9/11, society has come to terms with (or at least really thought about) catastrophe in a way that most of us really hadn't before. Life IS precious, and yes -- it can be cut short at any time. The naivete of the Challenger days is gone now.
And like
Like anyone who takes on a profession where accidental death is a possibility, the astronauts knew the risks when they signed the paperwork. If they are heroes, then so is the lowest-ranking infantry grunt who dies during a training exercise, or a crew member on an Alaskan fishing boat in winter, or a person who works with dangerous chemicals, a lineman, a sex worker, or a coal miner. They just don't make CNN Headline News when they die (oh, and they don't generally have bazillions of government money invested in them either).
I felt a little like a heartless bastard when one of my partners messaged me during the day and asked if I was watching CNN. (Granted, he's the space buff in the family, so he was most likely to be affected -- he still can't look at footage of the Challenger either.) I wasn't; like you said, I wasn't into wallowing in other peoples' misery. I'd prefer to think I've come to understand the value of life -- anyone's life -- and I didn't need the media to hammer the sadness of the situation into me. I just lit a candle, reflected on their sacrifice, and sent off some good mojo to their families.
Your mileage may vary,
Kai