2001-09-13 - 11:30 p.m.

It's been illuminating to read emails and diary entries for this week, to see what it has been like to be experiencing this terrible sequence of events at home in America. Reading about Celynen seeing flags on the highways, Gen's flag tank top, parents rushing to pick up their children, frantic phone calls, looking for familiar names on lists of the missing and the dead.

It has been particularly peculiar to be over here for all of this. I watched TV with a New Zealander all afternoon Tuesday and drank strong whisky. I watched with my English boyfriend later that night and all day Wednesday. My Irish friend called to see if I was still up for gaming Wednesday. An Algerian friend is shocked and saddened and confused, and a Scots friend emailed to say he was thinking of me, and thinking of all our mutual friends in the US. Another English friend said I looked so sad he'd have to beat it out of me (we were on our way to practice, just to put that in context!)

Some people say they haven't cried. I wept like a baby. I stood during the national anthem (played by the USMC band during the prayer vigil), and I've been bursting into tears at odd intervals all week.

I haven't processed it all yet, though I'm working on writing up some thoughts which I'll share with you all later. Some quick ones, for now. Dubya, poor dweeb that he is - this will be the crucible that forms him into a leader, I hope, but a sane and thoughtful one I pray. Time will tell. People here no longer think that the US is invincible, and no longer scorn our people for not living in fear of bombings and the like. I don't recall having felt so foreign before. My friends have been very gentle with me, mostly, and for this I am deeply grateful. Not knowing is hard. Not being able to help is hard. I don't think there's an American flag in this house that's not attached to an appliance or something. But I wish I had one to fly tomorrow. Someone, please, fly one for me.

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