It's been two days and it still feels like one of those really bad disaster movies that airs on Sunday nights. In the movies though, disaster is averted at the last minute by the star of the movie - usually some child star like Danny Bonaduce or Melissa Gilbert - and then everyone is safe, happy and lives happily ever after. There's no happily ever after here, no riding off into the sunset. This is real life. It really happened, it really happened...

There are heroes in all of this - the men and women who have been tirelessly working at the WTC and the Pentagon and in PA, not to mention those whose lives were lost and the families who grieve for them. All of these people are soldiering an enormous load - physically and psychologically - my heart goes out to them.

Last night, Liz and I were chatting and it was a bizarre *quiet* chat. We said a few words here and there, but there was a lot of "I can't believe this, I can't believe this." Even with the television constantly playing the images, it's hard to comprehend. Neither of us feel like writing right now and our strange senses of humor have taken a sabbatical. It is entirely too quiet, too quiet and every time, I think of a new, horrifying angle and chills go down my back again.

I'm concerned about the potential for violence against Arab-Americans. In this 'quiet unyielding anger' (as spoken by W) we all have, it would be so easy to associate the actions of a very, very small group with an entire culture. Arab-Americans are hurting just as much as anyone else in this country right now and it would be so incredibly wrong to show bigotry/violence towards them - even now we don't know who exactly is responsible. Let's leave retaliation to the government and treat everyone in this country with the respect and courtesy they deserve and not jump to judgements in our grief.