Sobering

1.

I was in Whitcoull's tonight trying to buy a frivolous magazine. All of the women's gossip magazines from NZ had pictures of NZ celebs telling their Chirstchurch stories on the cover.

I couldn't quite bare it to buy one of those. I've had enough of those kind of stories. Not in a heartless way, but in the sense that I am saturated emotionally.

I have taught the concept that media texts that are far removed from the actual mood of the era are great for escapism (such as comedies and musicals in the 40s).

At that moment, veering for the Kim Kardashian magazine instead of the Christchurch survivor stories one, I understood that concept.

2.

We have at least four Chch students enrolling, at least temporarily, at our school.

I feel bad that they've had a decent earthquake on their arrival to Wellington tonight, where they've come to escape.

My heart was beating a little faster than normal during a 4 or 5 earth-quake and I did jump up to run for a door, which I never usually do. I usually just lie in bed and freeze, looking up blankly (like a deer in the headlights) until the quake subsides.

If my reaction has changed considerably to a small quake, I can only imagine what that must have felt like to someone from Chch who had come up here to get away from the constant after-shocks. It must be horrifying.

There is also the changed reaction now that you do immediately think 'I hope that wasn't in Christchurch'. I woke up for the original quake last year, and thought nothing of it until I got up the next morning. So the next time I was woken up by a quake, in January or so, the first thing I did was to turn on the radio and hope that it hadn't happened again.

3.

There aren't many moments in your life that you will remember vividly where you were when you heard the news.

For me, the news of this quake arrived on my way to teach my after-lunch class.

I heard the techie walking past me mumbling something about 'another quake' and said, 'Huh, what's this?'

He, rather unhelpfully, said Christchurch had been basically 'wiped off the map' this time. The Cathedral no longer existed, according to his report. Obliterated.

I passed one other teacher after that, on my way down the stairs. I told him what I'd heard and he said at the moment it was just rumours from twitter. Someone said there was damage to the Cathedral but it could just be minor - you never know. Could just be smashed glass.

He agreed that he'd heard there would be injuries and loss of life this time.

I told my class there'd been another quake. They weren't terribly moved or interested on the outside.

I did feel a bit odd. Spaced out in a small way.

During the next lesson I felt a shaking while we were watching a movie. I said, pretty calmly, 'That might be an after-shock.... is that an earthquake?'. The girl behind me admitted she'd just been jiggling her leg. I was embarrassed.

I arrived back to the staffroom and several members of my department were texting family members down there. I hadn't even thought about that - it seems so far away to me - I have no relatives down there.

Luckily some of them had already heard back and their people were fine. Others hadn't and were visibly shaken. One was talking about something class related and suddenly burst out, '.... I haven't heard from her.... I just want to know if she's ok....' and started crying, right in the middle of a conversation. She was taken to the lounge for a cup of tea.

I feel like an outsider to this disaster.

4.

It's been a week since then. It seems like longer.

5.

One of the awful stories I watched was on the Channel 3 show, 60 Minutes (?). They followed the story of a man who had heard from his wife, trapped in the CTV building. He was standing vigil outside. At first he spoke willingly, but increasingly he was annoyed by the cameras. They eventually announced they were abandoning rescue efforts at that site. We all knew his wife was inside. And she had been alive. This man was (unwillingly) showing us the most awful hours of his life.

Usually in the media these stories have happy endings.

I felt uncomfortable watching. Sometimes I don't like the media. Grief should be allowed to be private.

6.

The night of the earthquake I went to see 127 Hours with Richard. It felt weird looking around Courtenay Place and it being normal for a Tuesday night. People were in Starbucks and going to movies. It didn't seem fair. But what else do you do?

There was that strange sense of camaraderie you feel after a disaster. At the noodle house everyone had chosen tables where they could see the TV. The waitress turned it up to full volume so we could hear the reports.

I said to Richard, 'Once they get a death toll, they're going to go crazy with it.' And they did. 65 deaths was scrolled across the screen and repeated as often as possible once it was announced.

I wonder what it is about actually have a figure that makes it more 'newsworthy'. I guess it's logical - you get a sense of scale. But why is '65 officially confirmed dead' better news than 'Hundreds missing, possibly dead'? I bet it was at that moment that the BBC and CCN started salivating over the story.