Monday, October 06, 2003 :::
 
Friends of my family were murdered in Haifa.
Many of them.
They are dead.


I cried again today. Again for the loss of life at the hand of terrorism. Again without answers as to why.

A six year old child, his two grandparents, an uncle, and a young cousin died.
The mother is in critical condition. If she somehow manages to survive, they think she will be permanently paralyzed.
Omri was lucky to be spared. He was playing at his friend's house while his brother, Asaf, was blasted beyond recognition.
The father was out of the country on business, actually traveling back to his family at the time.
Asaf was the last person to be identified. It wasn't until his father got there and gave blood that they could determine his identity.


Nothing justifies this.
My heart is saddened, and my eyes wet.
My heart is filled with anger.


This attack was not an attack to gain peace.

This attack was a direct attack against peace.

I don't want to go into that now. maybe later.


All this... pain, suffering, death. All of it... make me want to go back.

I've been saying for months now that I'd like to live in Haifa. The beautiful city by the sea, glimmering at the foot of a mountain and nestled against the shore.

And now I want to return oh so much more than before. All day my mind has been running scenarios on how to get back there. Transfer schools, semester abroad, dropping out. But all these schemes are full-hearted, but foolhardy as well.

Every time I close my eyes, I see an image. I see a woman draped in ragged dirty clothes, unusually bulky for the time of year, sneaking into a restaraunt. Walking between two tables, stopping, and exploding.

And I want to be there.

People are dying.

And I want to be there.


I don't want to die. I really don't want to die. I'm terrified of death.

But if I don't act in accordance to my beliefs, what am I?
If I take the easy route and settle down with a medium paying job counting beans, get married to some girl, Texas born and raised, and die 50 years later with a weak pension, cataracts, and an empty soul, would that be a life worth living?

The question for me, as well I think to everyone, is whether we will just take the path of least resistance and wake up at 75 and maybe realize that we don't really like ourselves, or whether we will take risks for what we want.


As for me, I hate the path of least resistance.

::: posted by Matthew at 1:16 AM --