Miscellaneous Mental Musings of an Emerging Artist
I’ve digested everything I possibly can on the political and military ramifications of our next actions, listened to all the words spoken and the threats ignored, been moved to tears by the sheer heroism of passengers on Flight 93, and the Big Thing I’m able to interpret from it all is that I’m bloody fucking scared.
On a general level, I’m scared of what could further happen in the weeks or months ahead, both in terms of further terrorist attacks and in terms of what our military response will be–will it be enough? Will it be too much? How do we defeat the paramilitary equivalent of the mythical hydra? How do we avoid creating new ones?
On a personal level, I’m scared because the race attacks have begun in earnest in not only America, but parts of Australia as well. The paranoid part of me, the one that’s being very careful not to stand to close to the edge of train platforms, started out small and has been growing steadily since yesterday. I worry not about the people who know me, but about the people who don’t. As much as the tragedy has brought out the true beauty of people, through blood donation, fundraising, and rescue efforts, it has also bubbled to the surface the ugliness. A Pakistani woman was nearly run over and further threatened with physical violence as she went grocery shopping by a 75 year-old man, and I realize that this woman could have been one of my aunts. Could have been my mother. Arabs being harassed and shot at, and the only miracle is that there have been no fatalities.
The net is filled with hatred today. I wonder if perhaps my girlfriend has been right all along, and that I have been too trusting with my own personal being online, especially now, when I’m this close to being labeled an undesirable.