911: Coping [en]

I’ve just finished filling in the second part of the Coping with the Stress of the Terrorist Attacks survey. I thought I’d share with you my answer to the last question, which asks us to tell our story of the attacks.

Please bear in mind that this was written as it came, and that I’m not posting this to start a heated discussion about what I’m saying here.

Let’s first say I have lived through the terrorist attacks from a distance. I learnt of them on the Internet just when they happened – the net was slow and I saw a notice on a friend’s site. We were a party of people in India, and I broke the news to the group.

My biggest fear was in the American reaction. I was listening to Bush’s speeches and couldn’t believe what he was saying. At some point, I was wondering if we would have to rush back to Europe if things got bad. Pretty fast though, things seemed to “cool down” (as far as a possible rash “nuclear bomb” reaction was concerned).

I watched the news a lot during the next week or two. The financial news too. It was the first time in my life I was following something so closely, and the first time I was following financial news. I was worried about the effects on the economy.

Back in Switzerland after a few weeks, Swissair went bankrupt. It was a pretty big blow for people over here – though I don’t know anyone who was personally touched by it. Still, it was a concrete “close to us” consequence of the terrorist attacks.

Without wanting to remove any of the horror and tragedy of the attacks, I was (and still am) revolted by the US reaction to them. I tend to think that they are not attacking the root of the problem, not seeing what responsibility they have in the situation, and playing “we good, they bad” like always. I tend to side with Chomsky and his criticism of American foreign politics. I don’t consider myself anti-american, though. I have nothing against americans because they are americans, and I have american friends. The politics and government just get on my nerves. And it angers me too to be tagged “anti-american” because I dare show criticism.

In a nutshell, my feelings now towards September 11 are directed more against american politics in general. I think the shock of the attack itself is over – I had never been to New York, didn’t know anybody in the WTC, and don’t personally know anyone who was directly touched by what happened.

It’s revolting to kill civilians by crashing planes into buildings, but some of the actions of the US outside their borders are just as revolting (the pharmaceutical plant in Sudan and the Afghan refugees – the so-called “collateral” damage).

All this leaves me with the feeling that the world of politics is rotten and full of deceit. But I still think we can live in this world.

Observatrice suisse tuée à Hébron [en]

Je viens d’apprendre l’identité de la suissesse tuée mardi en Cisjordanie. Du coup, mes problèmes de “claustrophobie” me paraissent bien futiles.

Je connaissais un tout petit peu Catherine. On se saluait quand on se croisait dans les couloirs de l’uni, et on s’arrêtait quelques minutes pour bavarder. Pas plus que ça, mais quand même. Elle existait, marchait, respirait et souriait dans mon monde — alors que pour la plupart des gens, elle n’existait simplement pas avant de mourir.

Je connais un peu mieux sa soeur: on a fait les scouts ensemble durant quelques années, on a étudié en partie dans les mêmes bâtiments et on habitait tout près l’une de l’autre avant que je parte en Inde. On a mangé quelques fois ensemble après s’être croisées par hasard en ville, et on a même poussé une fois jusqu’à Genève pour voir une exposition sur Nicolas Bouvier. Elle m’avait invitée à son anniversaire dans son joli appartement tout entouré de balcon. J’avoue qu’on s’est perdues de vue depuis mon départ de Suisse.

Je crois que l’esprit humain résiste à l’idée de la mort. En tous cas le mien, il résiste beaucoup. L’idée qu’on puisse être et tout d’un coup ne pas être, je trouve ça proprement im-pensable. La mort c’est aussi le temps des regrets, des “si j’avais su”, des “trop tard”, de la perte irrévocable… Mais bon, je ne vais pas m’étaler en platitudes philosophiques comme j’en ai l’habitude.

Laure: je pense bien à  toi, un peu bêtement, mais honnêtement. Et je ne sais pas quoi dire. Sauf que je sais que ça fait longtemps qu’on ne s’est pas vues, et que je vais t’écrire un petite carte pour te dire qu’aujourd’hui je pense bien à toi — du mieux que je peux.

Et qu’ils n’avaient pas à tuer ta soeur.

Claustrophobie [en]

Il y a cet immeuble qui pousse devant mon balcon et ça m’embête énormément.

Photo d'un bâtiment en construction devant mon balcon

Je ne vois bientôt plus le ciel quand je suis à  mon bureau. L’espace autour de mon appartement a rétréci et on est en train de me voler ma lumière.

J’enrage d’impuissance.

Je voudrais leur crier d’arrêter de construire, leur hurler que je ne vais pas pouvoir vivre comme ça, sans l’espace et les montagnes devant ma fenêtre. Que tout s’arrête, là , maintenant, comme c’est — ou plutôt, comme c’était il y a un mois, quand l’immeuble n’était encore qu’un grand trou.

Je ne peux que regarder l’espace se combler de briques rouges, chaque jour un peu plus haut, jusqu’à  m’emprisonner complètement.

Je ne veux pas déménager. Mais comment vais-je pouvoir survivre à  ça?

Mirror Project [en]

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all…?

Definitely not me on this Mirror Project picture.

Sound and Sonnets [en]

Thanks to Romain who brought a sound card with him when he came over this week-end, I am now enjoying the auditory dimension of the web. I’ve also managed to get Flash to work with my browser, so you can expect multimedia linkage in the future.

Drop in at When Love Speaks and enjoy the promotional video (under “Downloads”). I’m really tempted, I have to say. And it’s not just for Alan Rickman’s track.

Romain also brought with him a digital camera — but I’ll tell you about that later.

Cats and Blogs [en]

I’ve been wanting to mention this project for some time, but never got around to doing it. If you have a cat and a blog, open wide your ears:

The Cat Bloggers Project presents photographs of cats and their blogging humans. You’ll find Bagha’s page out there, of course.

Girl Stuff [en]

Did I tell you about my Golder Rule #1 for putting on nail polish? I’m not sure anymore. It goes like this:

1. Don’t start putting nail polish on when you have just 20 minutes left before going out.

This morning, I have discovered Golden Rule #2:

2. Don’t put nail polish on in the morning before you’ve had anything to eat.

Now let me go and have my breakfast.

Google Bombing [en]

A very interesting article about Google bombing. Needless to say, I don’t encourage abuse of a (reasonably) good system.

On the other hand, were is the line between use and abuse? What is ethical, what is not? The gray zone is always the most interesting.

[link via Emmanuelle]

Orthographe [en]

Me voici ce soir d’humeur pour un petit coup de gueule orthographique. Ceux qui me connaissent le savent: je tiens à  l’orthographe. Ne me sortez donc pas vos beaux discours sur son inutilité, je leur suis totalement imperméable.

Les fautes de frappe ou d’orthographe, ça accroche l’oeil et ça gêne la lecture. La mienne, en tout cas. Ça rend aussi difficile le travail des traducteurs automatiques, qui ne sont pas aussi flexibles que nous. Bref. Je milite pour un peu d’orthographe et de syntaxe dans nos productions virtuelles.

Aujourd’hui, nous allons nous arrêter sur une petite faute toute bête, toute minuscule, mais qui se répand comme la peste sur nos écrans:

Quand on intercale, pour raisons d’euphonie, un petit “t” entre le verbe et le sujet inversés, on l’emballe bien chaudement entre deux tirets.

C’est donc quel temps fera-t-il? et non pas quel temps fera t’il? ou même fera-t’il. Merci d’en prendre note!

La vie ayant ses lois implacables, je sais qu’une faute de frappe, d’orthographe ou de syntaxe m’aura certainement échappé dans cette entrée. Si ça se trouve, dans cette note même. Je vous prie de ne pas m’en tenir rigueur, et de m’en aviser!

English Culture Shock [en]

I don’t often get culture shocks in England. I did get one this time, though.

At the end of a live performance like a concert or a play in Switzerland, the audience applauds the artists until their hands ache too much to continue. The quality of the show usually determines how keen everybody will be to continue clapping despite the pain.

Curtain call follows curtain call until the audience wears out.

So, after the excellent performance that Danielle and I had travelled down to London to see, I was prepared to keep on clapping my hands until my skin went on strike.

I remained in mid-clap with my mouth wide open when after the second curtain call, everybody went silent and started getting out of their seats. They all knew that the artists had left for good.

It took me a couple of minutes to come back to my senses, close my mouth, put my hands on my lap and pick up my jacket. Obviously, two curtain calls was the rule in the country of dreary winter days.