The Media, Earthquakes and the Sixth Sense
Photos to come as soon as I manage to find the card reader in this mess.
This morning I am incredibly tired. A night of aftershocks leaves you largely sleepless. Multiple times in the night I've grabbed and hugged my dog- more for my sake than hers, most likely.
I finally fell asleep about 1am, even as some relatively big aftershocks were still going on. I woke up around 4am and I remember sleepily reasoning that 4am is a bad hour for earthquakes, and feeling more frightened.
Yesterday I experienced something really strange. When I got home and sat on the lawn with my family for three hours, I kept thinking that I'd pinched nerves in my arms as I was leaning on them. My arms kept quivering. It didn't take long to realise that actually, the ground just never stopped trembling. Dad and I were talking about it late last night, and he called it 'angry earth.'
When I got home from work we watched the TV.
I've grown to really hate the media over the last year and three months.
After September, I received heaps of texts asking if we were okay, because the news had said Lyttelton was badly hit. Every chimney had come down on my street, and the main street buildings weren't looking too great, but it certainly wasn't as bad as we were led to believe.
But the reports after February were the straw that broke the camel's back.
People were dying in our central business district, and you should have seen the disgusting way in which the reporters behaved.
I watched these from Dunedin, and I just wanted to get on the first flight up there to punch some of those journalists in the face.
I remember one reporter in particular, almost running around the square with his cameraman to point out all the damage. He almost excitedly pointed out a woman trapped in the spire of the Christchurch Cathedral- halfway in and out a window.
You watched and you thought, "WHY DON'T YOU DO SOMETHING TO HELP THEN?"
I know some people will say, "Well, they couldn't do anything to help her without risking their own lives."
But they could have done something for others. My Uncle carried multiple dead bodies out of shops in Cashel Mall. Many people helped others that were injured. Some just comforted people around them.
I remember rescuers pulling a woman out of a building, she was bleeding, and the first thing the stupid camera crew did was thrust a microphone in her face.
All the while in Dunedin I was told over and over again that the quake was centred in Lyttelton, and that I should fear the worst.
After each earthquake, our networks get very overloaded. It is almost impossible to get a call through to anyone, and even still a text message won't send for about twenty minutes. My mum rang me immediately after before everything jammed and said there had been a huge earthquake much bigger than the September one. My mother tends to exaggerate, so to be honest, I didn't believe her.
But then we watched the TV. And that was very scary indeed.
Especially when a bigger earthquake hit not long after. All the while, this stupid, tactless boy (who likes to think he knows everything) sat there and said over and over, "Oh, Lyttelton is flattened. There's nothing left. It was definitely the worst hit. There have been hundreds and hundreds of deaths."
I really wanted to punch him.
The morning of the February 22nd earthquake, my Mum woke up and thought, "Today."
I don't know how she knew, she just did.
And after the first one hit, her friend Nel rang her, and she said to Nel on the phone, "I've gotta go to the house up the back and take everything down off the walls before for the big one hits."
So she went up to the rental property and lay down all the vases, wall hangings and paintings. And she was right.
Generally, earthquakes aren't supposed to happen like that. Well, that's what were told. There's 'supposed' to be a big one, then increasingly smaller aftershocks. But twice now we've had a big one, then a bigger one.
Last night, Dad told me that all of the 22nd, and all of yesterday, he'd been walking around very carefully. He said he woke up the last two days and thought, "Earthquake weather."
Now I know that sounds bizarre to associate weather with earthquakes- but he was right.
When I was at the mall yesterday, and we were told the first one was a 5.9 (It was later changed to a 5.8, then upgraded to a 6.0. Also only 8km deep, situated 20km Noretheast of Lyttelton) Anna turned to me and said, "I feel like that's not big enough, and there will be a bigger one." I told her not to be silly. Then 80 minutes later, just after I got home, a 6.0 (Later revised to a 6.2, only 6km deep) hit.
The fact that until yesterday, it had been six months since the last big earthquake didn't comfort me when I came home. I knew what I was in for. In fact, when you don't have the aftershocks, you get suspicious. When they're fewer and far between, you presume they're building up to another big one. That seems to be what happens anyway.
In less than 24hours, I've started to return to how I was before I moved. I hear the earthquakes before they arrive, and subsequently sit bolt upright before anything even starts shaking. However, I'm much more on edge.
Fraser has been telling me this all year. Apparently I'm much mroe frightened of them.
I'd say he's right after seeing how I reacted at the mall yesterday. I think I was the only one really visibly distraught while we all sat outside in the carpark.
It's Christmas Eve, but I intend to update about this again. I haven't even started to get into the details about EQC.
This morning I am incredibly tired. A night of aftershocks leaves you largely sleepless. Multiple times in the night I've grabbed and hugged my dog- more for my sake than hers, most likely.
I finally fell asleep about 1am, even as some relatively big aftershocks were still going on. I woke up around 4am and I remember sleepily reasoning that 4am is a bad hour for earthquakes, and feeling more frightened.
Yesterday I experienced something really strange. When I got home and sat on the lawn with my family for three hours, I kept thinking that I'd pinched nerves in my arms as I was leaning on them. My arms kept quivering. It didn't take long to realise that actually, the ground just never stopped trembling. Dad and I were talking about it late last night, and he called it 'angry earth.'
When I got home from work we watched the TV.
I've grown to really hate the media over the last year and three months.
After September, I received heaps of texts asking if we were okay, because the news had said Lyttelton was badly hit. Every chimney had come down on my street, and the main street buildings weren't looking too great, but it certainly wasn't as bad as we were led to believe.
But the reports after February were the straw that broke the camel's back.
People were dying in our central business district, and you should have seen the disgusting way in which the reporters behaved.
I watched these from Dunedin, and I just wanted to get on the first flight up there to punch some of those journalists in the face.
I remember one reporter in particular, almost running around the square with his cameraman to point out all the damage. He almost excitedly pointed out a woman trapped in the spire of the Christchurch Cathedral- halfway in and out a window.
You watched and you thought, "WHY DON'T YOU DO SOMETHING TO HELP THEN?"
I know some people will say, "Well, they couldn't do anything to help her without risking their own lives."
But they could have done something for others. My Uncle carried multiple dead bodies out of shops in Cashel Mall. Many people helped others that were injured. Some just comforted people around them.
I remember rescuers pulling a woman out of a building, she was bleeding, and the first thing the stupid camera crew did was thrust a microphone in her face.
All the while in Dunedin I was told over and over again that the quake was centred in Lyttelton, and that I should fear the worst.
After each earthquake, our networks get very overloaded. It is almost impossible to get a call through to anyone, and even still a text message won't send for about twenty minutes. My mum rang me immediately after before everything jammed and said there had been a huge earthquake much bigger than the September one. My mother tends to exaggerate, so to be honest, I didn't believe her.
But then we watched the TV. And that was very scary indeed.
Especially when a bigger earthquake hit not long after. All the while, this stupid, tactless boy (who likes to think he knows everything) sat there and said over and over, "Oh, Lyttelton is flattened. There's nothing left. It was definitely the worst hit. There have been hundreds and hundreds of deaths."
I really wanted to punch him.
The morning of the February 22nd earthquake, my Mum woke up and thought, "Today."
I don't know how she knew, she just did.
And after the first one hit, her friend Nel rang her, and she said to Nel on the phone, "I've gotta go to the house up the back and take everything down off the walls before for the big one hits."
So she went up to the rental property and lay down all the vases, wall hangings and paintings. And she was right.
Generally, earthquakes aren't supposed to happen like that. Well, that's what were told. There's 'supposed' to be a big one, then increasingly smaller aftershocks. But twice now we've had a big one, then a bigger one.
Last night, Dad told me that all of the 22nd, and all of yesterday, he'd been walking around very carefully. He said he woke up the last two days and thought, "Earthquake weather."
Now I know that sounds bizarre to associate weather with earthquakes- but he was right.
When I was at the mall yesterday, and we were told the first one was a 5.9 (It was later changed to a 5.8, then upgraded to a 6.0. Also only 8km deep, situated 20km Noretheast of Lyttelton) Anna turned to me and said, "I feel like that's not big enough, and there will be a bigger one." I told her not to be silly. Then 80 minutes later, just after I got home, a 6.0 (Later revised to a 6.2, only 6km deep) hit.
The fact that until yesterday, it had been six months since the last big earthquake didn't comfort me when I came home. I knew what I was in for. In fact, when you don't have the aftershocks, you get suspicious. When they're fewer and far between, you presume they're building up to another big one. That seems to be what happens anyway.
In less than 24hours, I've started to return to how I was before I moved. I hear the earthquakes before they arrive, and subsequently sit bolt upright before anything even starts shaking. However, I'm much more on edge.
Fraser has been telling me this all year. Apparently I'm much mroe frightened of them.
I'd say he's right after seeing how I reacted at the mall yesterday. I think I was the only one really visibly distraught while we all sat outside in the carpark.
It's Christmas Eve, but I intend to update about this again. I haven't even started to get into the details about EQC.
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