I opened my google email to see what new interesting spam or phising attempts awaited in my inbox or spam box to discover that Hah-vahd (Harvard) Law sent me my rejection e-mail.
I thought...e-mail? What? No letter? I guess enough people pinned rejection letters on their walls to fuel their desire to gain revenge against Hah-vahd that Hah-vahd decided to stop sending letters...or it's a more green way to disappoint people. I like to think it is because it is a greener method. I really do.
Needles to say, I really had no delusions that I would somehow sneak into the incoming class for the fall semester of 2009. My spectacular showing as an undergraduate and average showing during the LSAT all but confirmed my rejection. What really surprised me was that it took them this long to send it to me. My other hopeful half court shot, Yale sent me one within a month of receiving my package. Actually, maybe they [law school applications] all were half court heaves...
But Hah-vahd took almost four months to decide that I was not the caliber of person they wanted at their university.
But can you blame them? My GPA and LSAT score would have dragged down their spectacular averages. Zeus or Odin forbid that I taint the pristine 3.6 GPA and 160 LSAT minimums for these schools! Well, again, they do need to grease the alumni to get donations, so again, I don't cut it...based on my performance...where does the blame lie? Me.
I don't think that my life will be effected too much, seeing that I'm shooting a huge oh-fer-everything in this attempt to go to law school. The only positives are letters informing that I am now part of the elite of the not-quite-so-good-enough-to-get-in, on the wait list for Indiana University and Valpo. I'm not going to hold my breath; seeing that this would entail enough people to choose not to go to either of those schools to open up a position for X number of people to be thrown into competition for X spots...and the X number of people always outnumber the X amount of spots.
It's not that I'm not used to screwing up. Failing 3 OOD boards, 2 SWO boards and screwing up in general as I have in the past 10 years since I left high school should at least teach me that. Wait, failing is the word. I might have been way off using 10% as my estimated success rate. Maybe 1% or even more daringly, 5% would be more appropriate.
But...all of those failures and screw ups etc led to some pretty interesting adventures and experiences. If I didn't screw up in college, I would have never gone to my first ship (that I went to) and met Mr. Hotdog, Wee-Man, Mr. Pear, MoNgO, and the other characters from the G.E. Electric Oven (all names property of Mr. Brent Gregory Meyers)...and I would have never ended up in Japan and meandered into the adventures and experiences here etc etc. So I'm proud of my 2.86 GPA!
Actually, it is pretty humorous and I try to make a game out of it. "Who is going to reject me this time?" "Man, I haven't received a single rejection letter yet this week, what gives?" I really have nothing mean to say to any of the schools, knowing that I am at best (just looking at GPA and LSAT) a marginal candidate, except for Wisconsin, but the bones that I pick with that university are based on a litany of other reasons.
And no, its not that Brett Beliema loses games, that's life (does anyone really expect Wisconsin to win a national championship?), but its that the University pays him 1.6M USD a year to coach football...sorta knocks the wind out of sails in the argument for Wisconsin being a legitimate academic institution...that and the less than 60% graduation rate for the football team. How the hell can I have pride in that? For 1.6M it should be at least 90%.
I won't even start on the bronze immortalization of Barry Alvarez. Before that was raised, I think the only statue on campus was that of Abe Lincoln...you know, the guy who ended slavery, started the first moves towards civil rights, reunited the United States...you know, things not as important as winning three Rose Bowls and having a son microwave a parrot.
Showing posts with label Wisconsin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wisconsin. Show all posts
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Funny Advert, NCAA picks and the Tokyo Marathon
I'm a member of the "League of Reason" forum online (http://leagueofreason.forums-free.com/) and under one of the discussions about "evolution and creationism" I saw this very interesting advert below the main banner:
MIDWEST:
Louisville X OSU: I don't like Ohio State, and niether does Rick Pintino. He runs a full court press all day and Louisville blows out OSU. Louisville.
Arizona X Cleveland State: Ennie, Meenie, Miney, Mo...Cleveland State is a Cinderella.
WVU X NDSU: I don't go against Huggins in the tourney. Boy does Cincy look stupid for firing him.
USC X MSU: So sorry Tom Izzo...USC (okay, I don't feel sorry for putting that there)
WEST:
UConn X BYU: UConn. Thashem Shabeet blocks 20 shots and the Mormons pray for Joseph Smith to smite the heathens, but since he's just worm food now, nothing happens.
Purdue X Washington: Purdue. Again, good basketball team.
Marquette X Mizzou: I think Marquette is still good enough to get past Mizzou and Mizzou does not fare well away from their home building.
Maryland X Memphis: Memphis proves that just because they play in Conference USA does not mean they cannot beat up on ACC teams. Memphis.
EAST:
Pitt X Tennessee. Pitt's tough. Bruce Pearl wears a bright orange blazer. Pitt's still tough in the inside. Pitt smash. Pitt win.
Florida State X Xaiver: And Xaiver keeps going. But at least Florida State blew out Wisconsin by 20 for my viewing pleasure.
UCLA X Villanova: I struggled with this one. But I just think UCLA is going to tease us all with a hint of being able to make a 4th straight Final Four. UCLA just edges 'Nova.
Minnesota X Dook: Tubby Smith is a great coach, despite what the loud mouthed, mouth-breathing morons in Kentucky think (and should realize now since they are now in the NIT...never went there with Tubby...hmmmm). But Dook still has a bit more talent to outshine Minnesota. But I think Tubby can pull this one out. He's got Ralph Sampson (the III). It's gotta count for something! I think. Minnesota in a semi-shocker since Dook never gets past the second round these days.
SOUTH:
UNC X Butler: Well, I'm going to say UNC and Dook will be watching the rest of the NCAA tourney. Butler.
Western Kentucky X Akron: I flipped a coin again and Akron came up. Again. I think LBJ is really going to suit up for them and average a triple double in one of his LeBron's alter egos.
Arizona State X 'Cuse: I like Syracuse in this game.
Michigan X OU: OU isn't going to get upset yet, not until the round of sixteen or so. OU
Sweet Sixteen. I call it, Sixteen teams better than the NIT Winner.
MIDWEST:
Louisville X Cleveland State: Louisville. Rick Pintino manages not to wear the horrific white suit.
West Virginia X USC: John Denver's Country Home defeats Paris Hilton with a offensive surge in the second half and good hands-up defense.
WEST:
UConn X Purdue: Gene Keady never made it to the Final Four. But I don't think they can get past UConn, but it's a tight one down the stretch. UConn just squeaks out.
Marquette X Memphis: Memphis continues to prove they belong among the top teams in the US.
EAST:
Pitt X Xaiver: Pitt strong. Xaiver not mid-major. Pitt smash. Xaiver not mid-major. Pitt strong. Xaiver not mid-major. Pitt can't get past the Sweet 16. Xaiver go to Elite Eight.
UCLA X Minnesota: Kevin Garnett, though an alumnus of the Timberwolves, was not a Golden Gopher. UCLA gets lucky because Dook lost. UCLA.
SOUTH:
Butler X Akron: The Battle of the Mid-Majors, a clash in Memphis with Elvis watching. Butler wins.
'Cuse X OU: To prove that they still have stamina, 'Cuse beats OU.
Elite Eight. Sounds kinda pompus eh?
MIDWEST:
Louisville X John Denver (er, I mean West Virginia): Louisville wins another Big East game.
WEST:
UConn X Memphis: Memphis wins by 15 and later states that UAB played them tougher.
EAST:
Xaiver X UCLA: So close, so close to a fourth straight Final Four, but I think Xaiver breaks through.
SOUTH:
Butler X 'Cuse: Butler continues to shock the world, while I am not surprized at all.
Final Four:
Lousiville X Memphis: I thought about this one for a bit. It reminds me of 1996 when Kentucky faced off with UMass in the Final Four. I thought it should have been the Nat' Championship game. I'm not sure how to pick this one. Both teams play suffocating defense. I just think this is Lousiville's season.
Xaiver X Butler: In the undercard, the mid-majors, although Xaiver is not a mid-major, battle it out. Between these two teams, I see Bulter taking them down.
National title game:
Louisville X Butler: A great game, but Louisville has too much for the mighty Bulldogs. Hopefully, Rick Pintino avoids wearing a white suit again.
Of course, I know that there is a 100% chance I am wrong in these picks. I'm willing to boldly state that I can 100% guarantee that I will be at least 90-100% incorrect in my picks. But that's the fun of the NCAAs.
Tokyo Marathon:
I know I have not even mentioned anything about the Tokyo Marathon: it was not until last week that I knew I was going to be able to run the race, based on my work schedule. It's pretty exciting to think about actually doing this, after losing about three and a half weeks of training because of an injury. Moral of the story: I should have just gone with Mizuno or Asics right off the bat. Nike shoes are good, but I like Mizuno and Asics better (I tend to think they are the best running shoes in the world). The only reason why I stuck with Nike was because of the Nike+ system.
I'll try to take as many pictures as I can while trying to maintain my pace and post them as soon as I can on this blog. Maybe I'll give a running commentary from what I can remember as well after the race.
Lastly, I hope that the weather (which was nice all week) holds up on Sunday. The torrential rain today is causing just a little concern now.
You don't say...very interesting.
NCAA Picks (Yes, I know...very, very, very late)
MIDWEST Bracket:
(1) Louisville X (16) Moorehead State: Louisville
(8) OSU X (9) Siena: I don't like OSU, but of course, they get a free home game. Siena is tough, but OSU has the unfair home advantage. OSU.
(5) Utah X (12) Arizona: Hmm, toss up, but I guess Utah, no Arizona, no Utah, no Arizona, no Utah...okay Arizona.
(4) Wake Forest X (13) Cleveland State: I like Cleveland State, and WFU has been pretty inconsistent since Feb.
(11) Dayton X (6) West Virginia: WVU
(3) Kansas X (14) North Dakota State: NDSU beat Wisconsin two years ago in Madison. These guys have been playing together for four years. Kansas is young but very talented...with a good coach. I has Kansas getting to the Elite Eight until I thought about it for five minutes. NDSU in a shocker.
(7) Boston College X (10) USC: USC got the hot hand at the right time-swept through the PAC-10 tourney and although Boston College gave Dook fits in the ACC tourney, I'm going with USC.
(2) Michigan State X (15) Robert Morris: I would love to see MSU lose, but they'll win this one.
WEST Bracket:
(1) UCONN X (16) Chattanooga: UConn...
(8) BYU X (9) Texas A&M: BYU
(5) Purdue X (12) Northern Iowa: Purdue...although they won only the Big Ten Tourney (supposedly that means you won't get past the second round or Sweet 16), but they have a good basketball team (pains me to say as a UW alumnus...and how I joke about the smelly Wabash River).
(4) Washington X (13) Mississippi State: Okay, I saw parts of this game on TV...and MSU was losing. So why bother?
(6) Marquette X (11) Utah State: So losing their leader has caused the team to skid...in the hyper-insanely-tough Big East. I think they can get past Utah State, despite the size of Utah St.
(3) Mizzou X (14) Cornell: If this was an academic competition, I'd say Cornell in a blowout, but its basketball, so Mizzou, but all the Cornell guys graduate and earn higher salaries.
(7) Cal X (10) Maryland: Maryland. ACC bias I guess, but Maryland's got a great PG...that always counts for something in basketball.
(2) Memphis X (15) Cal St. Northridge: Memphis (but I think they already played this game.)
EAST Bracket:
(1) Pitt X (16) East Tennessee State: Pitt. 16 seeds continue their "Oh fer..."
(8) Oklahoma State X (9) Tennessee: Yah, OSU did well this year, but I don't tend to go against Bruce Pearl. Tennessee.
(5) Florida State X (12) Wisconsin: I am pissed at my alma mater, but I can't help but see the quaint story of Wisconsin's two premier programs (basketball and football) having their season ignomoniously ended by Florida State. But knowing Bo Ryan, he'll actually have a game plan and have his players ready and be able to make adjustments (unlike some other expanding mass of a coach) and could pull this one out. But I'm still going with FSU.
(4) Xaiver X (13) Portland State: I know nothing about Portland State, but I know Xaiver has a good coach and good players, so that's enough to give this poorly researched pick: Xaiver.
(6) UCLA X (11) VCU: VCU was able to knock out Dook in the tourney two years ago. They have a good PG. UCLA has NCAA experience from the past three Final Four runs and Ben Howland...UCLA in a tight one
(3) Villanova X (14) American: You can't pick against America! No really, when I think of 'Nova, I think of the great Kerry Kittles teams in the mid 1990s that never quite broke through in the tourney. He was one of my favorite players in college basketball along with Lou Roe, Marcus Camby et al. Villanova.
(7) Texas X (10) Minnesota: Minnesota
(2) Dook X (15) Binghamton: Who? Oh yeah, Binghamton in a run away. Wait, I mean Dook.
SOUTH Bracket:
(1) North Carolina X (16) Radford: Although everyone is bagging on Ty Lawson now for sitting out of the game, I think UNC has more than enough to beat Radford.
(8) LSU X (9) Butler: Butler; and its not that LSU has been up and down since beating Kentucky to wrap up the SEC a few weeks back, I just like Butler. Sue me.
(5) Illinois X (12) Western Kentucky: Western Kentucky in a semi-shocker. But I wouldn't be shocked.
(4) Gonzaga X (13) Akron: LBJ sneaks in the second half and records a triple double to beat Gonzaga. I think Akron has a chance. Akron.
(6) Arizona St X (11) Temple: Well...I flipped a coin and Temple came up, so I have to go with the best 2 out of 3...which Temple lost. ASU.
(3) 'Cuse X (14) Stephen F. Austin: 'Cuse, although everyone is concerned that they have nothing left in their legs.
(7) Clemson X (10) Michigan: Both inconsistent teams. Both started well and stumbled down the stretch. I flipped a coin again and Michigan won.
(2) Oklahoma X (15) Morgan State: OU and Blake Griffin announces that he will be entering the NBA draft after dropping a 30-10 in this game.
Round Two:MIDWEST:
Louisville X OSU: I don't like Ohio State, and niether does Rick Pintino. He runs a full court press all day and Louisville blows out OSU. Louisville.
Arizona X Cleveland State: Ennie, Meenie, Miney, Mo...Cleveland State is a Cinderella.
WVU X NDSU: I don't go against Huggins in the tourney. Boy does Cincy look stupid for firing him.
USC X MSU: So sorry Tom Izzo...USC (okay, I don't feel sorry for putting that there)
WEST:
UConn X BYU: UConn. Thashem Shabeet blocks 20 shots and the Mormons pray for Joseph Smith to smite the heathens, but since he's just worm food now, nothing happens.
Purdue X Washington: Purdue. Again, good basketball team.
Marquette X Mizzou: I think Marquette is still good enough to get past Mizzou and Mizzou does not fare well away from their home building.
Maryland X Memphis: Memphis proves that just because they play in Conference USA does not mean they cannot beat up on ACC teams. Memphis.
EAST:
Pitt X Tennessee. Pitt's tough. Bruce Pearl wears a bright orange blazer. Pitt's still tough in the inside. Pitt smash. Pitt win.
Florida State X Xaiver: And Xaiver keeps going. But at least Florida State blew out Wisconsin by 20 for my viewing pleasure.
UCLA X Villanova: I struggled with this one. But I just think UCLA is going to tease us all with a hint of being able to make a 4th straight Final Four. UCLA just edges 'Nova.
Minnesota X Dook: Tubby Smith is a great coach, despite what the loud mouthed, mouth-breathing morons in Kentucky think (and should realize now since they are now in the NIT...never went there with Tubby...hmmmm). But Dook still has a bit more talent to outshine Minnesota. But I think Tubby can pull this one out. He's got Ralph Sampson (the III). It's gotta count for something! I think. Minnesota in a semi-shocker since Dook never gets past the second round these days.
SOUTH:
UNC X Butler: Well, I'm going to say UNC and Dook will be watching the rest of the NCAA tourney. Butler.
Western Kentucky X Akron: I flipped a coin again and Akron came up. Again. I think LBJ is really going to suit up for them and average a triple double in one of his LeBron's alter egos.
Arizona State X 'Cuse: I like Syracuse in this game.
Michigan X OU: OU isn't going to get upset yet, not until the round of sixteen or so. OU
Sweet Sixteen. I call it, Sixteen teams better than the NIT Winner.
MIDWEST:
Louisville X Cleveland State: Louisville. Rick Pintino manages not to wear the horrific white suit.
West Virginia X USC: John Denver's Country Home defeats Paris Hilton with a offensive surge in the second half and good hands-up defense.
WEST:
UConn X Purdue: Gene Keady never made it to the Final Four. But I don't think they can get past UConn, but it's a tight one down the stretch. UConn just squeaks out.
Marquette X Memphis: Memphis continues to prove they belong among the top teams in the US.
EAST:
Pitt X Xaiver: Pitt strong. Xaiver not mid-major. Pitt smash. Xaiver not mid-major. Pitt strong. Xaiver not mid-major. Pitt can't get past the Sweet 16. Xaiver go to Elite Eight.
UCLA X Minnesota: Kevin Garnett, though an alumnus of the Timberwolves, was not a Golden Gopher. UCLA gets lucky because Dook lost. UCLA.
SOUTH:
Butler X Akron: The Battle of the Mid-Majors, a clash in Memphis with Elvis watching. Butler wins.
'Cuse X OU: To prove that they still have stamina, 'Cuse beats OU.
Elite Eight. Sounds kinda pompus eh?
MIDWEST:
Louisville X John Denver (er, I mean West Virginia): Louisville wins another Big East game.
WEST:
UConn X Memphis: Memphis wins by 15 and later states that UAB played them tougher.
EAST:
Xaiver X UCLA: So close, so close to a fourth straight Final Four, but I think Xaiver breaks through.
SOUTH:
Butler X 'Cuse: Butler continues to shock the world, while I am not surprized at all.
Final Four:
Lousiville X Memphis: I thought about this one for a bit. It reminds me of 1996 when Kentucky faced off with UMass in the Final Four. I thought it should have been the Nat' Championship game. I'm not sure how to pick this one. Both teams play suffocating defense. I just think this is Lousiville's season.
Xaiver X Butler: In the undercard, the mid-majors, although Xaiver is not a mid-major, battle it out. Between these two teams, I see Bulter taking them down.
National title game:
Louisville X Butler: A great game, but Louisville has too much for the mighty Bulldogs. Hopefully, Rick Pintino avoids wearing a white suit again.
Of course, I know that there is a 100% chance I am wrong in these picks. I'm willing to boldly state that I can 100% guarantee that I will be at least 90-100% incorrect in my picks. But that's the fun of the NCAAs.
Tokyo Marathon:
I know I have not even mentioned anything about the Tokyo Marathon: it was not until last week that I knew I was going to be able to run the race, based on my work schedule. It's pretty exciting to think about actually doing this, after losing about three and a half weeks of training because of an injury. Moral of the story: I should have just gone with Mizuno or Asics right off the bat. Nike shoes are good, but I like Mizuno and Asics better (I tend to think they are the best running shoes in the world). The only reason why I stuck with Nike was because of the Nike+ system.
I'll try to take as many pictures as I can while trying to maintain my pace and post them as soon as I can on this blog. Maybe I'll give a running commentary from what I can remember as well after the race.
Lastly, I hope that the weather (which was nice all week) holds up on Sunday. The torrential rain today is causing just a little concern now.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Bumbling Badgers
Indeed, I find more reasons as to why not to support the UW Athletic Program with P.J. Hill's latest antics. These days I could care less about how many games the Badgers win in any sport (actually, I root against the Badgers these days. I'm tired of hearing the boorish idiots in the student section at Citi presents Camp Randall on Qdoba Field. Plus, I can't find any alumni pride in a University that feels compelled to have luxury box seats at a college football stadium.).
They can build an expensive stadium, and pay a coach 1.6M USD per year (okay, so its probably only 950,000 USD after taxes), but I get a cheap ass Kinko's style diploma. I guess this is where one is supposed to start listing radical proletarian revolutionary rhetoric railing against the bourgeoisie.
Yes, I am aware that the athletic department is self sustaining these days, but I feel that its at the expense of the University. I recall that my senior year, the University was having to make budget cuts here and there all over the campus. Letters and Science, mostly the Letters part took the brunt of the cuts. But the Athletic department and the University itself felt that the money available in the athletic department coffers were probably best funneled into an egotistical renovation of Camp Randall. I wont comment on the football obelisk or self-aggrandizing statue of Barry Alvarez. Normally you unveil statues of people if they are effective leaders, win wars and end slavery or social inequality, create something useful for all society or cure a disease...or are a fictional boxer who goes the distance against the World Champion, not a football coach.
But hey, they have a great graduation rate for the football team. Well, 63% is about a D, so that's good enough for a degree! Good enough for me! Somehow, I think that should be around 90 or so, seeing that it is job of the coaches and the athletic department to make sure these undergraduates earn a degree. But maybe I'm way off. Probably because I don't believe in Bucky anymore.
They can build an expensive stadium, and pay a coach 1.6M USD per year (okay, so its probably only 950,000 USD after taxes), but I get a cheap ass Kinko's style diploma. I guess this is where one is supposed to start listing radical proletarian revolutionary rhetoric railing against the bourgeoisie.
Yes, I am aware that the athletic department is self sustaining these days, but I feel that its at the expense of the University. I recall that my senior year, the University was having to make budget cuts here and there all over the campus. Letters and Science, mostly the Letters part took the brunt of the cuts. But the Athletic department and the University itself felt that the money available in the athletic department coffers were probably best funneled into an egotistical renovation of Camp Randall. I wont comment on the football obelisk or self-aggrandizing statue of Barry Alvarez. Normally you unveil statues of people if they are effective leaders, win wars and end slavery or social inequality, create something useful for all society or cure a disease...or are a fictional boxer who goes the distance against the World Champion, not a football coach.
But hey, they have a great graduation rate for the football team. Well, 63% is about a D, so that's good enough for a degree! Good enough for me! Somehow, I think that should be around 90 or so, seeing that it is job of the coaches and the athletic department to make sure these undergraduates earn a degree. But maybe I'm way off. Probably because I don't believe in Bucky anymore.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
A clear Tuesday Morning
Snippets flash forward, illuminate momentarily on a screen and fade back into the darkness from where it appeared.
A breakfast journey, trudging slowly down the stairs, unawares of the outside world other than the mild Wisconsin fall day, more worried about the wrinkles from wear on my cotton khakis.
A television screen normally on CNN, an image of the North World Trade Tower billowing smoke from its upper reaches. Pause. Surrealistic. Was it a preview from the newest Schwarzenegger film? The newest Hollywood CGI?
Sitting and munching mindlessly on lukewarm eggs and cold french toast, trying to decihper the events unfolding in New York City with a voiceless television. The scrolling text, illegible until eyes were squinted, informed the basement under a twelve story building that an airplane had crashed into the WTC.
A drunk pilot?
A mid-air malfunction, a day gone terribly wrong.
Aircraft, tall tower in New York...my mind drifted to the B-25 crash into the side of the Empire State Building on a foggy day in 1945.
Blue, clear skies, almost too perfect described that morning, now smeared with the ugly hues of angry fires burning 110 stories in the sky. Not a hint of murkiness to obscure any field of vision of the experienced pilots handling these giant aircraft with ease. What about electronic navigation? Air Traffic Controllers maintaining a chaos of flights heading inbound and outbound?
A deep sinking ugliness grew in the pit of my stomach. There was something seriously wrong. Yet, as the rest of the world, I did not know whether there was truly malice or mistake behind this tragedy.
The race back to my room and joining my roommates in rapt attention before the flickering television...only a weekend before we gathered cheering for the underdog Badgers against the highly ranked Oregon Ducks at Autzen Stadium, now a silent attention mingling with fear. My roommate and I sitting tentatively in our midshipman uniforms, unsure of the future, unsure of what would happen later during afternoon drill.
I don't remember whether or not I saw the second plane scream across the sky, slamming into the second tower; perhaps those moments passed as I glided up two flights of stairs to arrive breathlessly to the room. But I recall a short moment that never left my mind...
An errant camera was zooming in and out among the billowing smoke juxtaposed against the clear baby blue sky and the silver sides of the WTC reaching into the skies. A floating voice commented about debris falling from those heights and the camera zoomed in to catch a image of building parts, office supplies, chairs, aircraft parts falling from the ugly scar on the face of the tower.
But the debris falling, accelerating at 9.8 m/s/s, were humans, people with lives, personal stories, tragedies, triumphs, goals, family, children, loves, dislikes, allergies and memories.
The images were processed, realized and quickly we returned to another establishing shot of the towers burning in the clear morning.
A thought. Suppressed. Arose across the mind and the horrifying realization crossed silently through my lips.
There are people falling out of the tower.
A ugly thought arose and submerged just as soon as it reached daylight:
Did they jump?
As everyone filtered out on campus to their classes, my next class was after noon, I sat in rapt attention at the events unfolding before the eyes of millions of people held in position or seated by the magnetic force of the unbelievable images flickering across our collective screens. An event so huge...
The first tower collapsed as I spoke with my buddy a few floors up, as we spoke about the fires and whether or not the city was taking measures in case the towers fell. Shock. "One of the towers just fell man...one of the towers just fell..."
Eyes glued...and then the sister to the tower now a pile of rubble followed its twin into memory, the upper portion settling, almost resigned to its fate, and fell in atop itself. Clouds of thick smoke rose in place of the vanishing structure, rising high and seeping through the streets of Manhattan, covering everything in a blanket of finality.
The Twin Towers were no more. Sober voices reiterated the reality before our eyes.
I paused before going to class. I was in uniform. My next class was a lecture for Islamic History. I never made it past Randall Street.
In the aftermath, as the men who plotted and executed the attack became known to the United States and the world, I felt a slight impotent helplessness. Today, I recall the words of Heath Ledger's Joker in the latest Batman movie as he prods the infuriated Batman, "with all your strength, you have nothing, nothing you can do to me."
I felt that while we were powerful, we were powerless to act. There was no one opponent, a nation bold enough to strike the United States, that we could bring bring to bear the total sum of our military power to exact a blood revenge. No Nazi Germany, Soviet Union, or Imperial Japan existed to avenge the blood of innocent civilians who suffered unimaginable and unthinkable deaths in New York, Washington DC and in a lonely field in Pennsylvania.
The American giant was reduced to powerful clenched fists, enraged yet unable to lash out, binded by self imposed limits while fires smoldered on the East Coast, its citizens buried their dead or posted fliers praying against all hope that their loved one was still lost in the chaos that continued in this plane of existence.
It was an uncertain and restless sleep that Tuesday night.
We could only search through the rubble for the faint hope of survivors, bury the dead and remind ourselves to never forget.
On that day. That clear Tuesday morning.
Just one view, and obscured behind the fog of memory. My brother and I shared a cup of coffee at a local restaurant and he told me about that clear and brisk Tuesday in September. Another nondescript day for him, a first year student at the Merchant Marine Academy in Kings Point, Long Island, New York.
Breakfast. Then a classmate burst in, and babbled about something happening in Manhattan and they have to come outside to see what is going on. A group follows the classmate outside, into the lush grassy open fields in the middle of the campus, a location that allows a direct view into downtown Manhattan. A clear and blue day, save for smoke rising from one of the Twin Towers.
Shock.
The world changes forever as one classmate brings up his camera, the second jet slams into the South Tower.
Stories of USMMA students as EMTs in Manhattan; some traumatized by the discovery of the shattered remains of humans. Others the smell. My brother remembers that smell as it wafted across the river and into the campus of the future members of the US Merchant Marine. Unforgettable although many wished to bury it forever, to forget that smell that permeated through their uniforms, their lives.
A smell that I cannot describe nor understand as I never inhaled a fresh lungful of this air.
Years later, in a bar in uptown New York during Fleet Week 2005, sharing beers with two fire fighters, one a NYFD the other from Appleton, Wisconsin. The grizzled NYFD veteran slowly spoke about that clear Tuesday morning. Nothing different. Except the end of the day. Friends lost, other ladder companies that arrived on scene first and vanished in a cloud of rubble before lunchtime. Stories of the evidence of what were once people in the piles of shattered concrete and steel.
Stains on concrete that were once people.
Stories of what each block of demolished building uncovered.
He also mentioned that smell. The smell that permeated and embedded itself into their noses, clothes, skin and their minds.
They continued to sort through the carnage that man wrought on man, discovered new horrors, moved endless dusty chunks by hand. It appeared that they would never get through with this grim task, the impossibility of the task started to grow heavier and heavier on their weary shoulders. The city started to farm out those Ladder Companies and fire fighters at Ground Zero into other New York boroughs, to reacquaint them with a sense of the life now obscured behind the thick smoke of the towers collapsing on that September Tuesday.
Fighting fires and defeating fires.
Acting as EMTs for people they could save.
And a thank you for my service, although I had done nothing in comparison to those brave men who arose to only discover calamity that should never visit any civilian population. They wouldn't let me buy a beer at The Bravest Heart.
I still recall standing before the gaping holes, looking down into the open tombs of over 2000 souls and the structures that had housed them, that were solid superstructures of safety, all through the openings on tall chain linked fence lining the solemn perimeter. The crowds passing on their daily lives paid a fleeting moment of attention to the group of naval officers in summer whites, but I felt the glances lasted longer on the Pakistani sailors paying their respects to the dead. One glance freely told without obscuring the true thoughts, 'what the fuck are those guys doing here?'
I felt sorry for everyone. The New Yorkers who had either lost friends, lovers, wives, sons, sisters that morning and for those poor Pakistani sailors standing a few paces away from the group of Yankee sailors. Those upon the sea have the same fears and joys while on the ocean, a bond that no one person with their feet set firmly on the earth could understand.
It was impossible to process the whole scene; from the gaping wounds to the signs that covered the scars on the surviving adjacent towers and the unseen scars on the citizens of New York. Just a stupid sigh followed by dumber silence. Frustration boiled at my inability to understand and comprehend everything my eyes relayed to my brain.
It was only through chance that I stumbled upon these recollections, jogged by my sarcastic view towards the hysteria surrounding 2012, which lead to the ridiculous videos about a 9-11-01 conspiracy and now, a reflection of that day.
A brisk and a clear Tuesday.
A breakfast journey, trudging slowly down the stairs, unawares of the outside world other than the mild Wisconsin fall day, more worried about the wrinkles from wear on my cotton khakis.
A television screen normally on CNN, an image of the North World Trade Tower billowing smoke from its upper reaches. Pause. Surrealistic. Was it a preview from the newest Schwarzenegger film? The newest Hollywood CGI?
Sitting and munching mindlessly on lukewarm eggs and cold french toast, trying to decihper the events unfolding in New York City with a voiceless television. The scrolling text, illegible until eyes were squinted, informed the basement under a twelve story building that an airplane had crashed into the WTC.
A drunk pilot?
A mid-air malfunction, a day gone terribly wrong.
Aircraft, tall tower in New York...my mind drifted to the B-25 crash into the side of the Empire State Building on a foggy day in 1945.
Blue, clear skies, almost too perfect described that morning, now smeared with the ugly hues of angry fires burning 110 stories in the sky. Not a hint of murkiness to obscure any field of vision of the experienced pilots handling these giant aircraft with ease. What about electronic navigation? Air Traffic Controllers maintaining a chaos of flights heading inbound and outbound?
A deep sinking ugliness grew in the pit of my stomach. There was something seriously wrong. Yet, as the rest of the world, I did not know whether there was truly malice or mistake behind this tragedy.
The race back to my room and joining my roommates in rapt attention before the flickering television...only a weekend before we gathered cheering for the underdog Badgers against the highly ranked Oregon Ducks at Autzen Stadium, now a silent attention mingling with fear. My roommate and I sitting tentatively in our midshipman uniforms, unsure of the future, unsure of what would happen later during afternoon drill.
I don't remember whether or not I saw the second plane scream across the sky, slamming into the second tower; perhaps those moments passed as I glided up two flights of stairs to arrive breathlessly to the room. But I recall a short moment that never left my mind...
An errant camera was zooming in and out among the billowing smoke juxtaposed against the clear baby blue sky and the silver sides of the WTC reaching into the skies. A floating voice commented about debris falling from those heights and the camera zoomed in to catch a image of building parts, office supplies, chairs, aircraft parts falling from the ugly scar on the face of the tower.
But the debris falling, accelerating at 9.8 m/s/s, were humans, people with lives, personal stories, tragedies, triumphs, goals, family, children, loves, dislikes, allergies and memories.
The images were processed, realized and quickly we returned to another establishing shot of the towers burning in the clear morning.
A thought. Suppressed. Arose across the mind and the horrifying realization crossed silently through my lips.
There are people falling out of the tower.
A ugly thought arose and submerged just as soon as it reached daylight:
Did they jump?
As everyone filtered out on campus to their classes, my next class was after noon, I sat in rapt attention at the events unfolding before the eyes of millions of people held in position or seated by the magnetic force of the unbelievable images flickering across our collective screens. An event so huge...
The first tower collapsed as I spoke with my buddy a few floors up, as we spoke about the fires and whether or not the city was taking measures in case the towers fell. Shock. "One of the towers just fell man...one of the towers just fell..."
Eyes glued...and then the sister to the tower now a pile of rubble followed its twin into memory, the upper portion settling, almost resigned to its fate, and fell in atop itself. Clouds of thick smoke rose in place of the vanishing structure, rising high and seeping through the streets of Manhattan, covering everything in a blanket of finality.
The Twin Towers were no more. Sober voices reiterated the reality before our eyes.
I paused before going to class. I was in uniform. My next class was a lecture for Islamic History. I never made it past Randall Street.
In the aftermath, as the men who plotted and executed the attack became known to the United States and the world, I felt a slight impotent helplessness. Today, I recall the words of Heath Ledger's Joker in the latest Batman movie as he prods the infuriated Batman, "with all your strength, you have nothing, nothing you can do to me."
I felt that while we were powerful, we were powerless to act. There was no one opponent, a nation bold enough to strike the United States, that we could bring bring to bear the total sum of our military power to exact a blood revenge. No Nazi Germany, Soviet Union, or Imperial Japan existed to avenge the blood of innocent civilians who suffered unimaginable and unthinkable deaths in New York, Washington DC and in a lonely field in Pennsylvania.
The American giant was reduced to powerful clenched fists, enraged yet unable to lash out, binded by self imposed limits while fires smoldered on the East Coast, its citizens buried their dead or posted fliers praying against all hope that their loved one was still lost in the chaos that continued in this plane of existence.
It was an uncertain and restless sleep that Tuesday night.
We could only search through the rubble for the faint hope of survivors, bury the dead and remind ourselves to never forget.
On that day. That clear Tuesday morning.
Just one view, and obscured behind the fog of memory. My brother and I shared a cup of coffee at a local restaurant and he told me about that clear and brisk Tuesday in September. Another nondescript day for him, a first year student at the Merchant Marine Academy in Kings Point, Long Island, New York.
Breakfast. Then a classmate burst in, and babbled about something happening in Manhattan and they have to come outside to see what is going on. A group follows the classmate outside, into the lush grassy open fields in the middle of the campus, a location that allows a direct view into downtown Manhattan. A clear and blue day, save for smoke rising from one of the Twin Towers.
Shock.
The world changes forever as one classmate brings up his camera, the second jet slams into the South Tower.
Stories of USMMA students as EMTs in Manhattan; some traumatized by the discovery of the shattered remains of humans. Others the smell. My brother remembers that smell as it wafted across the river and into the campus of the future members of the US Merchant Marine. Unforgettable although many wished to bury it forever, to forget that smell that permeated through their uniforms, their lives.
A smell that I cannot describe nor understand as I never inhaled a fresh lungful of this air.
Years later, in a bar in uptown New York during Fleet Week 2005, sharing beers with two fire fighters, one a NYFD the other from Appleton, Wisconsin. The grizzled NYFD veteran slowly spoke about that clear Tuesday morning. Nothing different. Except the end of the day. Friends lost, other ladder companies that arrived on scene first and vanished in a cloud of rubble before lunchtime. Stories of the evidence of what were once people in the piles of shattered concrete and steel.
Stains on concrete that were once people.
Stories of what each block of demolished building uncovered.
He also mentioned that smell. The smell that permeated and embedded itself into their noses, clothes, skin and their minds.
They continued to sort through the carnage that man wrought on man, discovered new horrors, moved endless dusty chunks by hand. It appeared that they would never get through with this grim task, the impossibility of the task started to grow heavier and heavier on their weary shoulders. The city started to farm out those Ladder Companies and fire fighters at Ground Zero into other New York boroughs, to reacquaint them with a sense of the life now obscured behind the thick smoke of the towers collapsing on that September Tuesday.
Fighting fires and defeating fires.
Acting as EMTs for people they could save.
And a thank you for my service, although I had done nothing in comparison to those brave men who arose to only discover calamity that should never visit any civilian population. They wouldn't let me buy a beer at The Bravest Heart.
I still recall standing before the gaping holes, looking down into the open tombs of over 2000 souls and the structures that had housed them, that were solid superstructures of safety, all through the openings on tall chain linked fence lining the solemn perimeter. The crowds passing on their daily lives paid a fleeting moment of attention to the group of naval officers in summer whites, but I felt the glances lasted longer on the Pakistani sailors paying their respects to the dead. One glance freely told without obscuring the true thoughts, 'what the fuck are those guys doing here?'
I felt sorry for everyone. The New Yorkers who had either lost friends, lovers, wives, sons, sisters that morning and for those poor Pakistani sailors standing a few paces away from the group of Yankee sailors. Those upon the sea have the same fears and joys while on the ocean, a bond that no one person with their feet set firmly on the earth could understand.
It was impossible to process the whole scene; from the gaping wounds to the signs that covered the scars on the surviving adjacent towers and the unseen scars on the citizens of New York. Just a stupid sigh followed by dumber silence. Frustration boiled at my inability to understand and comprehend everything my eyes relayed to my brain.
It was only through chance that I stumbled upon these recollections, jogged by my sarcastic view towards the hysteria surrounding 2012, which lead to the ridiculous videos about a 9-11-01 conspiracy and now, a reflection of that day.
A brisk and a clear Tuesday.
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