Three hours and September 11th will be over for another year. I completely zoned out so I wouldn’t have to think about it. I watched “Zootopia” and “The Secret Life of Pets” and played video games. It’s not my first Sept. 11th here since moving back, but I think that every year the spirit of the entire city changes for the day as we reflect on what happened. No tears fell for me, but there was a pallor on the air I wanted to avoid entirely. It seems shitty and selfish, but I have enough grief in my life and to take on this, too? I am strong, but not unbreakable… but apparently, not strong to avoid it long enough to keep from writing about it before I go to sleep.
I am proud of myself that I did not let terrorism win. I was not afraid to move back into the city after all these years, when it was part of the reason I was so glad to leave. My thought process is that if I die in a terrorist attack, then so be it. In DC, I have the most advanced set of weaponry around me in the world, as well as the best intelligence, the best military, the best minds, period, working on the problem before I see it. If a terrorist can get through all of those levels and still get to me, then I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that everybody did what they could and there’s nothing I personally could have done to stop it. I mean, I could bite a few ankles, but that probably isn’t very helpful. Also not sure sending them a verbally vicious e-mail would help, either, but that’s the skillset I’m workin’ with…. ankles and e-mail. Really must update my resume.
I took my sleeping medication long ago, but it hasn’t kicked in yet. Waiting for the joy of sleep to come, knowing that when it does, it will be deep and even. Tonight is not a night to dream unless I can direct it. Perhaps I will sit on the beach with all my friends, a roaring fire between us even though it’s 77 degrees outside… in my dream I can bump it down, maybe add a cold breeze to accent the flames licking the sky.
I am regretting not going to the beach this weekend, because I think it would have been a good break. But perhaps I will take off for Rehoboth or Ocean City in the next few weeks, so that it’s cool but not unpleasantly so. It can only get so cold outside before I am begging to go in. Matthew used to call me “Leslie No-Blood” because I was constantly complaining about the lack of blood in my fingers and toes. This is somewhat abated by lacing my Chucks tightly and wearing thick gloves, but still. Lack of body fat means that I am the first person to start shivering, but I try not to complain. I love being outside when I’m dressed for it, and the first few days of snow I tend to overdress and sweat profusely, especially when I go inside and the heaters are set right below hell.
I’m patiently waiting for the snow to arrive, because I look so cute in sweaters taking pictures of the trees is my favorite thing.
Tomorrow is a busy day, but I don’t know what I’m doing after work. Thankfully, though, it will be the 12th.
So there’s that.
Stories That Are All True 