I've been watching the coverage as much as I can stand. Sometimes I just have to turn it off and get away from it for awhile. I've read a ton of articles on the net posted by those here as well as things I've found. Some of the images burned into my head are pretty gruesome...this is tough. My kids have been one beacon in the darkness. They're so unaffected and innocent even though my three year old is aware that something bad has happened. It's also helped having a two month old to take care of throughout all of this.

Work just pisses me off by comparison. My job hardly seems like it matters much in light of events and yet it seems like the higher ups are more pressure packed than ever. I guess everyone is on edge.

Tonight I played Sid Meier's Alien Crossfire for about thirty minutes. That really took my mind off of what's been happening. Eventually I had to come back here and start reading things again. Somehow I get the feeling it's going to be awhile before we know all we really WANT to know about this tragedy.

Good choice on the Red Cross banner, Mark/Tom.

--Dave

I am not sure I have really come up with a coping mechanism just yet. I am still very numb from yesterday's events and my experiences. Peter and I went for a walk today and went to Times Square. Many businesses were still closed, the Viacom and Paramount buildings were actually dark. However people were out on the streets. The amount of activity in the city was most certainly lower than it would normally be, but it was good to see people getting out and taking a look around.

What has kept me going is being with Peter, and how wonderful he was yesterday when I was slowly making my way from downtown. Getting in touch with people we have been concerned about in the city, and also the contact from people we know all over the country has really been heartwarming.

I do think it will be some time before things start to resemble anything normal. And really, I don't see how things will ever be completely normal again.

Cheers
Enid Burns

Personally, it really hit me tonight. At church we had a prayer service, and it seems like everything really sunk in. I don't know how I'm going in terms of coping, but I know that I spent several good minutes shedding tears, as the sheer magnitude settled in. Or, started to settle in, or continued to...I have no idea. I'm sure it still hasn't fully hit me, and maybe it never will. I can't begin to comprehend what those in NYC are going through, and those families...

I do know this. Not for the first time, I'm glad that I live in Tulsa, where there's no government center, no military base, no -- for lack of a better word -- logical target. I don't fear for my life or family often here, and I like that. Sure, nowhere is totally safe, but I feel like I'm as safe here as I could be anywhere.

I have had this really foul headache since the disaster. I think watching the images over and over again on CNN has done this. Last night I turned off the TV and said to my wife enough is enough - let's just watch the evening news and nothing else.

Today I was sitting at my office desk working on my pc. A shadow passed over the window from a commercial flight flying into Sydney. I flinched in my chair. I couldn't believe it.

I picked the wrong week to (again) quit smoking.

I got all choked up while driving home tonight. Every flag I passed was at half mast, and that's when the scope of this really hit me. The rational part of me knows that no amount of grief can undo the events of the the last 48 hours, and yet I can't help but start to tear up when I reflect on the number of lives that have changed forever.

I know full well that I have a bad habit of living near attractive targets. It's the price I pay for hanging aroung smart people. As such, I'm still contemplating my vulnerability. I know full well that demoralization is the intended purpose of terrorism, and yet I find it extremely difficult to counter the effects.

Over the next few days I think I'll be better able to put things into proper perspective, but for now I'm still snowed under by the initial rush of emotions. This board is a big part of my coping mechanism. It reminds me that I'm not the only one suffering from the emotional effects of Tuesday's tragedy. Thanks.

- Alan

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This board is a big part of my coping mechanism.

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I know full well that I have a bad habit of living near attractive targets. It's the price I pay for hanging aroung smart people.

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http://fuckedcompany.com/

This isn't a troll. Pud has an open letter.

A day or so later, and I still can't believe it. One part of me is assessing damage & intelligence reports from multiple news sources, but the other side is dead, refusing to believe what is happening. It's like flipping a circuit breaker. I see a tower collapsing, and part of me shuts down.

This time it's in America. People around the world are being callous and saying 'about time', as if Oklahomah never happened, or the first WTC bombing never occurred. As if thousands of people needed to die. Fuck that.

I don't think the people who did this expected things to go this far, like the collpase of the two towers. I don't know anyone in New York, but I keep seeing the towers collapse, and I know everyone couldn't get out. I just keep going to every newsgroup, and every forum I know, looking for familiar names.

I'm just numb.

Forums like this are helping me come to terms and back to a sense of relative normalicy. When I see foolish things said, which is happening with unsurprising regularity, my idealistic curmudeon peers out and makes my fingers move. They're moving alot more than usual. Some I can attribute to what I'm seeing but alot of it, perhaps, is simply me trying to find an outlet for my...I dunno if there is a word for it. Disbelief, defiance, anger, helplessness: they all miss it.

I don't have much to complain about compared to those tough New Yorkers or military folks in The Pentagon. Can't do but so much by myself. I'm going to give blood today. It's something.

Hey guys,

Things are pretty chilling in Boston. I work in the tallest building in the city, the Hancock Tower, and going up in the elevators yesterday was simply surreal. Everyone is putting on a good face and focusing on work, but it hasn't been easy. The Westin Hotel is across the street from us, and yesterday when they searched it and took away 1 (maybe 3?) guy(s) everyone was riveted to the windows and the TV in the lobby (such a massive crowd gathered it was easy to watch from the 45th floor). And last night I went to the parking garage for the Tower, and security wouldn't let us up. Apparently there had been reports of a suspicious person crawling around under cars. Luckily they decided this was simply false and let us leave an hour later. Its just frightening when you realize that this horrific event is going to continue to touch our lives in so many ways.

And, to comment on another thread (I think it was a different one, there is so much to read here!), jhansdorf - get a fucking clue. Generally I thought you were fairly reasonable, but to suggest 5 or 10 thousand people dying is ok because you "have a hatred or contempt of mankind" is simply sick. Don't defend that. Get counseling.

"jhansdorf - get a fucking clue. Generally I thought you were fairly reasonable, but to suggest 5 or 10 thousand people dying is ok because you "have a hatred or contempt of mankind" is simply sick. Don't defend that. Get counseling."

I hope he wrote that simply because people get too wrapped up in pressing a point in online discussions and don't realize what they're saying.

How am I coping? Well, I'm using up some of my vacation time, which is a good time to do it since nothing is happening in the gaming world anyway, shipments aren't coming, and it couldn't feel more trivial to do what I normally do all day.

I try to play some games, but I can't play long. I just can't stick to 'em. Even though Advance Wars is probably the best tactics game I've played since Fantasy General and Warsong. I read that last Harry Potter book, but only a chapter or two and then I put it down.

I find the most comfort in one thought. I agree with Bush's statement that "freedom was attacked by a faceless coward." This was an attack IN America, but it was an attack ON free and democratic nations (the multi-national nature of the WTC fits). The one thought is this: As an attack on Freedom, *WE* can control if it was successful or not. If the attack erodes our freedom, it was successful. It was terrorism--if we live in terror, it worked.

Our best defence is to maintain a strong spirit; to heal quickly. Living in constant fear, shock, and sadness only makes the attack a success. Living in purposeful resolve, at whatever you do, makes it worthless.

I cope by talking to my wife, and by reading these boards, but usually I reach a point where I simply can't keep reading/watching the TV anymore.

Last Monday, a friend was kicking around the idea of coming to Saint Louis for the weekend so we could fly my R/C plane together. On Wednesday, I asked if he was still coming since he's in the Army National Guard and might have been called up. He said they were on alert for 12 hours, but weren't anymore, so the only thing holding him back was gas prices, but now that those have been stabilized, he'll be on his way after work today.

I just rediscovered the joy of flying my R/C plane two weeks ago after a 9 month hiatus. I'll be damned if I'm going to let those bastards take it away from me.

I guess it's my little way of making things get back to normal...

My family attended a candlelight vigil here in our small Vermont town of Richmond (home of Computer Games Magazine as well). Having lived anonymously in major cities for years, I was unprepared for the shared intimacy of the gathering. People of all ages, of all faiths, huddled together, lending their small light to form a collective beacon of hope and peace. We sang songs and said prayers before a rounded church whose walls were built after the turn of the 19th Century by the hands of many denominations. We lowered our heads and lifted our hearts, and our candles became a mirror to the first stars in a soft evening sky. The kind of soft evening sky that thousands will never see again. We shared our grief. We shared our hopes and dreams. We shared our pride at being Americans. I've never experienced such an outpouring of sympathy before. I've never experienced such a feeling of unity with my neighbors and my country. I'll never forget this evening.