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It's quiet, almost too quiet.
Aug. 29th, 2005 03:35 pmYesterday was all atwitter. Katrina had the internet (or at least the parts I haunt) feeling as if something momentous had happened, or was about it. It was pregnant.
Today, pendant le deluge it's quiet.
Thank God this was less than it might have been. The bill isn't in yet, but just as Tallahasee missed getting whomped, so too New Orleans was spared the full fury of the storm.
I'm packing a bag, just in case they call for help.
It has, however been interesting to see the reactions. Some are waiting with nervous dread, some are angry (either a Jobian rage, or a more prosaic one). There are those who are angry with those who stayed (I suppose for making those people fear for others' safety) there are those who are angry with "the gov't" which failed to get everyone out.
There are those who are angry with those who are not as angry as they are.
Me... I'm resigned. There isn't anything I can do, right now. I am a somewhat fatalistic sort. On That Tuesday, when Maia's mother called on the intercom to say I might want to get into my, "funny clothes" because the World Trade Center had been blown up... I went back to sleep. It was a long way away, and if they wanted me to report, they'd call.
I seem moreso now. I blame the war. Driving down the road, wondering when someone might come over the rise and start lighting up one's vehicle (a soft-sided HUMMVEE) leads to that. As does scanning the overpasses for guys with RPGs (AK-47s are less of a worry, most people don't give enough lead to something doing 30+ mph, and I can guarantee you my fatalistic streak won't stop me from adjusting speed if someone aims at me). Spending hours in the days before leaving doing "dead-driver" drills (recall, I was the driver in this equation probably adds to it.
The world and its systems are big. Mankind is small in comparison (the timescale is enough (the time scale makes this so. Apart from setting off a nuclear war, the planet won't really notice how we fuck the place up. Given time, we will disappear, with a few more traces than the dinosaurs, but not so much more than that).
Someday the Big Muddy will find it's shorter path to the sea. Someday New Marid will let go. Someday, perhaps in my lifetime, "The Big One" will happen. Mt. Ranier may send a lahar flow to Puget Sound. The oceans may rise. A tsunami might smash into Washington D.C..
There's nothing I can do about it.
If I know it's coming, I can warn people. If I get sent I can try to help them evacuate. If they don't want to go... well they're grown-ups. If they want to smoke, they can. If they want to drink, they can. If they want to stay, I am not likely to force them to.
The best I can do is look out for me, and mine, and exhort those who make the plans to do them right. The price of individual liberty is you get to make stupid decisions for yourself.
Afterwards, well I'll be more than willing to help them put the pieces back together.
Today, pendant le deluge it's quiet.
Thank God this was less than it might have been. The bill isn't in yet, but just as Tallahasee missed getting whomped, so too New Orleans was spared the full fury of the storm.
I'm packing a bag, just in case they call for help.
It has, however been interesting to see the reactions. Some are waiting with nervous dread, some are angry (either a Jobian rage, or a more prosaic one). There are those who are angry with those who stayed (I suppose for making those people fear for others' safety) there are those who are angry with "the gov't" which failed to get everyone out.
There are those who are angry with those who are not as angry as they are.
Me... I'm resigned. There isn't anything I can do, right now. I am a somewhat fatalistic sort. On That Tuesday, when Maia's mother called on the intercom to say I might want to get into my, "funny clothes" because the World Trade Center had been blown up... I went back to sleep. It was a long way away, and if they wanted me to report, they'd call.
I seem moreso now. I blame the war. Driving down the road, wondering when someone might come over the rise and start lighting up one's vehicle (a soft-sided HUMMVEE) leads to that. As does scanning the overpasses for guys with RPGs (AK-47s are less of a worry, most people don't give enough lead to something doing 30+ mph, and I can guarantee you my fatalistic streak won't stop me from adjusting speed if someone aims at me). Spending hours in the days before leaving doing "dead-driver" drills (recall, I was the driver in this equation probably adds to it.
The world and its systems are big. Mankind is small in comparison (the timescale is enough (the time scale makes this so. Apart from setting off a nuclear war, the planet won't really notice how we fuck the place up. Given time, we will disappear, with a few more traces than the dinosaurs, but not so much more than that).
Someday the Big Muddy will find it's shorter path to the sea. Someday New Marid will let go. Someday, perhaps in my lifetime, "The Big One" will happen. Mt. Ranier may send a lahar flow to Puget Sound. The oceans may rise. A tsunami might smash into Washington D.C..
There's nothing I can do about it.
If I know it's coming, I can warn people. If I get sent I can try to help them evacuate. If they don't want to go... well they're grown-ups. If they want to smoke, they can. If they want to drink, they can. If they want to stay, I am not likely to force them to.
The best I can do is look out for me, and mine, and exhort those who make the plans to do them right. The price of individual liberty is you get to make stupid decisions for yourself.
Afterwards, well I'll be more than willing to help them put the pieces back together.
