These past few days have been like a nightmare I just can't wake up from. I felt compelled to at least try to make it to work yesterday (Wednesday the 12th); my office was empty. A friend called me up, and I changed my clothes at home and went down to volunteer however I could. It turned out to be carrying canned goods from Chelsea Piers to the Salvation Army on 14th Street. The West Side looks like a war zone—the Jacob Javits center is hosting a convention of state police, military vehicles, and FEMA. When we were done, we stopped by my karate dojo. Bad news: One of my fellow students, a fireman, was missing in the World Trade Center.

Still, you have to eat, even in the middle of hell, so we got a burger and watched the news on TV. I've become a news junkie: Everywhere I go, I have the radio on, or one window open to a news channel. I can't stop thinking, talking, listening, and posting about it. It's the same news, just recycled, over and over, but if anything happens, I want to know. I have to feel attached, involved somehow.

I got more involved that I would have liked last night. As far as I could tell, trains weren't running south of 34th street so, after eating, we walked uptown to grab a subway home. Suddenly, as we crossed in front of Penn Station/Madison Square Garden—the same building that was bombed in that Matthew Broderick remake of Godzilla—people began screaming and running. They were streaming out of Penn Station, and we began running away, too. Then firemen appeared at the corner, directing us to evacuate west and south. We ran through the dark caverns of Manhattan with a panicked crowd, until we couldn't run anymore. Then we took cover behind the Fashion Institute of Technology's ugly concrete façade and tried to get through the cell phone network to tell our families we were safe, in case they were watching the news. In time, the threat was revealed as a false alarm, and we made our ways home.

I tried going to work again today, but, as I was talking with a coworker, there was another bomb threat. I'm not sure if someone called in a bomb threat, or if everyone was just jumpy. There was no announcement; suddenly we were walking down twenty-three floors to gather in front of the building. It was too much for everyone. The office emptied out, our nerves shot. I had a shot of whiskey and went to my mom's house in Queens. I'm back now, though, but I can't sleep. The images of the people with the pictures of their loved ones on the news are keeping me awake..

Now is the time for mourning, but now is also the time for self-examination. Not navel-gazing, and not blind fury. We, as a people and a nation, must examine what the causes of this tragedy are, and why these modern-day Assassins have targeted America. It's a question no one seems to be asking: What do they hate about us, and why? It can not be simple envy of a more prosperous nation. Is it because we back Israel? Is it because our interests in the Middle East end where the oil pipeline begins? Is it because our culture knows no borders, but demands conformity to its instant-gratification, consumption-oriented ethos? Even as we condemn those who perpetrated this atrocity, we must ask how much of this crop of evil we have ourselves sewn.

We must remember that Osama bin Laden was trained by the CIA. As anyone who's seen Rambo III knows, the Afghani mujhandeen fought the Soviets with U.S. munitions (and many are still friendly to us). Neither must we repeat the mistakes of World War II, where Japanese-Americans were interned in camps. We must not fight evil with evil; we must rise above this.

I can't think of anything more to say, other than that I'm scared. A ground war in South Asia will be difficult and costly. Alexander the Great ran all the way through Afghanistan; the British weren't able to take it in the 19th century; and even the Soviet military machine failed. Hopefully, this time, we won't just drop a few bombs and pull out, but we'll stay there and give those people a reason to feel the way the Japanese and Germans do about us: We'll rebuild them, as we did to Europe and Japan after World War II.

When we're done shooting back, we have to ask, "Why did this happen?" and "What can we do to keep it from happening again?" Part of this is looking at motivations. Why do people choose to become Osama bin Ladens or Timothy McVeighs or Dylan Klebolds? What sociological and psychological elements predispose a person? We ask these questions about our own youth in order to stop school shootings; we should ask it about Saudi Arabian millionaire terrorists as well in order to stop their acts of terror. Once we find the answers, we must take action. Part of this, I think, will be rebuilding the Middle East so people there have a sense of hope. To our military force must be added our soul force.

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