It was September 11, and I managed to never hear about it all day. Because I slept until 3 p.m. Then, I went over to see Kacoon, and we ate and watched DVDs.
So all of 9/11's third anniversary passed, and, because it was the weekend, I didn't have to deal with any flags at half-mast, any specials on the news, any moments-of-silence at my office. I didn't have to sit in my cubicle and relive how I sat in a different cubicle at the other end of the office that day.
People have allowed the shadow of that day to motivate them into changing their lives. I haven't.
Part of me feels like a complete fool for ignoring the anniversary in its entirety until just now. More, though, I'm really glad that I missed it.
Those aren't easy memories, and it doesn't feel particularly right or useful to dwell on them when there are no real tasks that you can use them to get motivated for.
I mean, what, in the spirit of American strength and in regard to 9/11, did I really want to do with my Saturday?
Yeah, not that much.
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