This was a very long week. My case of the Mondays never seemed to go away despite my best efforts otherwise. I tried to counteract it by giving myself little pep talks before I went to bed but every morning I woke up with a grey cloud already over my head and it took every effort for me to get out of bed and drag myself into work.
It’s mostly work itself. Things have been slow the past few weeks and while I’ve been able to complete smaller easy tasks throughout the day, I’m really kind of lacking any projects to throw myself into. Which leads to me feel very unchallenged. And there are days where I will sit with no direction, nothing to do and I’ve literally got to find things to do. I mean, I’m all caught up on my blogs in Google Reader and I’m even able to read them as they’re all posted through the day. I don’t have email to return. And everything else of fun and interest (Pinterest, YouTube, Facebook, Flickr) are all blocked by work and even though I can access them from my phone, it is certainly more obvious to be sitting in my office on my phone all day than it is to be staring at my computer.
I’ve always felt to be a bit of a fraud when discussing the events of 9/11 with people because most of the time, they very clearly remember hearing the news, stopping everything they were doing and being glued to the TV.
I, on the other hand, had decided to skip my morning classes and slept right through it. And, to top it all off, managed to get myself out of bed and ready to go without hearing a word of what was going on (this was of course, before Twitter, Facebook, etc.). It wasn’t until I was in the car, on the way to work and heard the radio DJs discussing how everything was closing and how basically the entire city of Phiadelphia was shutting down. I actually called my mom and she told me what happened and told me not to go into the city.
I remember calling Steve to make sure everything was ok there. I knew it was, of course, but I think I just wanted to hear his voice. I remember being so mad that Temple didn’t close and that one of my professors was expecting us to come to our evening class (of which I was not going to go regardless – you weren’t going to catch me within million of feet of the closest metropolitan area to New York that day). I remember all of us gathered somberly in the break room still watching long after the initial attacks, dumbfounded, saddened, terrified.
So I have memories but this unfortunately it is just one of those events that I missed right as it was happening and I think I will always be ok with that in some way. My emotions from that day and the subsequent days are just as raw and valid as anyone else’s but somehow, I’ll always feel a bit disconnected.