Jecca Mehlota (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jecca_mehlota) wrote2006-09-11 07:48 pm
jecca_mehlota) wrote2006-09-11 07:48 pm
Entry tags:
Never too old for toys.
I rescind all negative comments I've made about my local Toys "R" Us (in the past month, anyway). After classes ended today, I had to take Mom into Williston to drop her off at a meeting (she'd tagged along when I went to town for school because she had some errands to run), so, since I was in the area, I popped over to the store to check their Transformers stock. They had a whole bunch of Cybertron stuff (nothing I don't already want and have, though), tons of the little Titanium series figures, and even a few shelves of Beast Wars figures, including the Takara-type Optimus and Megatron set. I figure if I don't buy anything except gas for the next week or so, I'll be okay.
Last time I was in there, they'd finally gotten in the new Optimus and Megatron molds.
Maybe they restock on Mondays or something.
On the way home, I was stuck behind a truck for a long time with a license plate that could only have been "Sunstreak." I wonder if that was supposed to be short for Sunstreaker, or if I really need to start getting decent amounts of sleep at night. Ugh.
I'll start sleeping when my father stops coming in five minutes before I turn the light off to yell at me for whatever imagined crime he thinks I've committed.
Still not sure how I feel about the advertisements on LJ.
Edit:
Everyone's asking. Technically, I was in World History when the planes hit, but it wasn't until second period (and it was an A-day, so it was second and not third), which was English A with Bucky, that the news came in. We were covering grammar and sentence structure ('cause, you know, tenth graders in the advanced English class don't know that stuff yet) and another teacher - I don't know who she was. She had short, blonde hair - came by, poked her head in the door, and rather casually informed the teacher that a plane had just crashed into the World Trade Center and a whole bunch of people were in the lobby watching the television there.
This, of course, sounded rather absurd, so the teacher cracked a small joke over it then used planes crashing into things as the subject of the next sentence. One of the other kids in class asked if he could go down to the lobby and was told to stay put. The same kid then asked to the bathroom. Teacher kind of gave him the evil eye, but told him to go ahead. (The student and teacher were both friendly, joker-type people - the sort that everyone likes.)
Ten or so minutes later, he finally comes back in and tells the class that, hey, not only was that plane thing not a joke, but a second plane had hit the other tower. Oddly, none of us really reacted too strongly to any of this.
I suppose I should credit the teacher. There were people in that class who would have started freaking out or something, but Bucky didn't let any of us. He just kind of took it and rolled with it and kept on going with the lesson. Kudos to him.
By my next class, though (fourth period, biology), people had started to freak out a little. Several people had left school by this point and, though she wasn't supposed to, the teacher let students use the phone in her room to call home if they wanted to. We didn't get much done in class that day.
Last class of the day - sixth period, Geometry - was rather a waste of time. A fourth of the class was missing and the teacher didn't feel up to teaching, so instead she asked if we wanted to go to the Auditorium and watch the news there.
(The school had set up the projector screen and adjusted it so it was playing the news - I want to say it was FOX, but I don't really remember and it might have been some other station.)
No one wanted to be in class (some for different reasons than others. I'll freely admit to never wanting to be in math class), so we all tromped down to the Auditorium, where probably at least half the school had gathered, and watched the news repeat for the last hour and a half of the day.
On the first half of the way home (I rode the bus from the high school to the middle school, then walked the rest of the way home), a girl I was sort of friends with said that she just knew Osama was behind the attacks, and that very recently, she'd had a dream where she was watching television and saw the WTC falling down and then the image switched to OBL laughing. (I still don't believe her, but hey.)
I talked about the events of the day with my neighbor as the two of us walked home. He said the explosions were kind of cool, but it sucked about everyone dying.
Then I went home to find Dad home from work early (I don't know if IBM let everyone off or if he just left) and watching the news with Mom, Dad, and my brother (my brother had gotten out about half an hour before me, as he was in middle school at the time). I don't know about my brother, but I know my parents and I knew that things were probably only going to get uglier as our country reacted to the events.
I didn't really know anyone directly affected in terms of people dying. A few people from my church (though I don't go to church anymore, but whatever) would have been killed (due to where they would have been in the buildings) had they not been late for work, but, well - late. There were people in my school who knew people who were killed, but none of them were anyone I knew well.
There. Now you know. Stop asking.
It happens to me every year. Around the ninth of September I begin to wonder why there's suddenly all sorts of specials about 9-11 and it's not until late in the evening on the tenth that I finally remember that we've once again hit the anniversary of the event.
Funny, it's about the only event that ever completely sneaks up on me like that, year after year.
Last time I was in there, they'd finally gotten in the new Optimus and Megatron molds.
Maybe they restock on Mondays or something.
On the way home, I was stuck behind a truck for a long time with a license plate that could only have been "Sunstreak." I wonder if that was supposed to be short for Sunstreaker, or if I really need to start getting decent amounts of sleep at night. Ugh.
I'll start sleeping when my father stops coming in five minutes before I turn the light off to yell at me for whatever imagined crime he thinks I've committed.
Still not sure how I feel about the advertisements on LJ.
Edit:
Everyone's asking. Technically, I was in World History when the planes hit, but it wasn't until second period (and it was an A-day, so it was second and not third), which was English A with Bucky, that the news came in. We were covering grammar and sentence structure ('cause, you know, tenth graders in the advanced English class don't know that stuff yet) and another teacher - I don't know who she was. She had short, blonde hair - came by, poked her head in the door, and rather casually informed the teacher that a plane had just crashed into the World Trade Center and a whole bunch of people were in the lobby watching the television there.
This, of course, sounded rather absurd, so the teacher cracked a small joke over it then used planes crashing into things as the subject of the next sentence. One of the other kids in class asked if he could go down to the lobby and was told to stay put. The same kid then asked to the bathroom. Teacher kind of gave him the evil eye, but told him to go ahead. (The student and teacher were both friendly, joker-type people - the sort that everyone likes.)
Ten or so minutes later, he finally comes back in and tells the class that, hey, not only was that plane thing not a joke, but a second plane had hit the other tower. Oddly, none of us really reacted too strongly to any of this.
I suppose I should credit the teacher. There were people in that class who would have started freaking out or something, but Bucky didn't let any of us. He just kind of took it and rolled with it and kept on going with the lesson. Kudos to him.
By my next class, though (fourth period, biology), people had started to freak out a little. Several people had left school by this point and, though she wasn't supposed to, the teacher let students use the phone in her room to call home if they wanted to. We didn't get much done in class that day.
Last class of the day - sixth period, Geometry - was rather a waste of time. A fourth of the class was missing and the teacher didn't feel up to teaching, so instead she asked if we wanted to go to the Auditorium and watch the news there.
(The school had set up the projector screen and adjusted it so it was playing the news - I want to say it was FOX, but I don't really remember and it might have been some other station.)
No one wanted to be in class (some for different reasons than others. I'll freely admit to never wanting to be in math class), so we all tromped down to the Auditorium, where probably at least half the school had gathered, and watched the news repeat for the last hour and a half of the day.
On the first half of the way home (I rode the bus from the high school to the middle school, then walked the rest of the way home), a girl I was sort of friends with said that she just knew Osama was behind the attacks, and that very recently, she'd had a dream where she was watching television and saw the WTC falling down and then the image switched to OBL laughing. (I still don't believe her, but hey.)
I talked about the events of the day with my neighbor as the two of us walked home. He said the explosions were kind of cool, but it sucked about everyone dying.
Then I went home to find Dad home from work early (I don't know if IBM let everyone off or if he just left) and watching the news with Mom, Dad, and my brother (my brother had gotten out about half an hour before me, as he was in middle school at the time). I don't know about my brother, but I know my parents and I knew that things were probably only going to get uglier as our country reacted to the events.
I didn't really know anyone directly affected in terms of people dying. A few people from my church (though I don't go to church anymore, but whatever) would have been killed (due to where they would have been in the buildings) had they not been late for work, but, well - late. There were people in my school who knew people who were killed, but none of them were anyone I knew well.
There. Now you know. Stop asking.
It happens to me every year. Around the ninth of September I begin to wonder why there's suddenly all sorts of specials about 9-11 and it's not until late in the evening on the tenth that I finally remember that we've once again hit the anniversary of the event.
Funny, it's about the only event that ever completely sneaks up on me like that, year after year.