I intended to fill this space with witty repartee about my trip to Spain: what I saw, what I did, what I thought, what I learned.
But as I sit here and watch the 9/11 coverage (something I hadn't planned on doing) I don't feel that kind of post is appropriate today. Remembering is important.
I remember that I moved to New York City just two weeks after September 11, 2001. Many people were fleeing as I was arriving. My parents were nervous. I was not.
I remember the feeling of community in the city that I can't accurately put into words. People were somber, yes, and there was fear but there was also hope. There was a"fuck you" attitude throughout the five boroughs. "You aren't going to ruin our city and our lives." We, as New Yorkers and Americans, were going to rebuild both to be bigger and better than before.
10 years later I can still feel that energy and attitude, which makes it hard for me to ever leave. It's addictive and inspiring, and at times overly positive and simplistic. But sometimes that is exactly what we need to get by.