Monday, September 12


Last week was a rough one for a lot of people. I always get moody and depressed around this time of year. The full moon and PMS doesn't help.

I know we need and should remember the attacks, but seriously, enough already. Last year was the first time I admitted to myself how much I was affected by the experience. Trust me when I say I will never forget, because to this day whenever I see a plane in the sky I silently wait for it to blow up.

I will also never forget because the fucking media won't let me. I avoid the news like the plague from mid-August to mid-September. I know the coverage helps people heal, but in my circle, it only seems to help non-New Yorkers feel connected to something that truthfully, no one should want to feel connected to. Just shut the fuck up already.

I'm sorry. I know I'm reading like a unpatriotic bitter asshole. It's because I feel like one.

There were two reasons I was happy about yesterday being yesterday. One, football is back. Two, halfway through making a smoothie I thought, "Oh shit, the milk's probably bad." When I read it expires on 9/11/11, I cheered the date for the first time in ten years. Then I poured the milk into the blender and it was cheese. Figures.

The Steelers and Giants looked awful, both losing division games. The Jets had a big win, but I was in bed by 9:30pm and missed it.

The only good thing about yesterday was I had a great time watching crappy games with my best friend and boyfriend. I also called my parents and brother to tell them I loved them. I cried a little bit, but not nearly enough as I needed. Maybe I can have a good cryfest tonight.


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