So. Today is 9/11, and I - likewise - don't have anything to say about it that hasn't been said more eloquently by others a million times.
The attacks happened three days after my 20th birthday - omg, seven years ago - serving as a poignant division in my memory between my teens and twenties... because obviously the world would never be the same, and neither should I.
At that point, I was just living college - I had not yet fathomed a life in anywhere other than Texas, not yet thrown myself into what would become a terrible relationship that would last for years, not yet decided not to go to law school, etc. But now I'm here. I don't know what that means. Seven years seems like such a long time. I can't believe that much time has passed.
On the other hand, two years ago today I started a job that, um, I ended up being not-so-crazy about. To say I was miserable by the time I quit (a year later) would be a sizable understatement. And in a lot of ways, I wish more time had passed so that bad experience could be further behind me. Two years seems like nothing at all. But now I'm here.
Anyway, this entry is all about me, and it's not the right day to think only about ones self. Readers, I hope all is warm and safe with you.