9/11.  Never forget.

Exactly two years ago to date, the Twin Towers collapsed.  The terrorist attacks of the unforgettably horrifying morning completely disrupted the lives of the innumerable individuals living in Lower Manhattan, who were forced to evacuate from their homes, and were required to settle elsewhere for the next three months or more, resulted in the deaths of 2,819 innocent people, who simply happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, sent fear and fright into the hearts of every American citize unsure of whom to trust and where to turn to, and seized the nation that had previously thought itself to be invincible by total and utter surprise.

At this very moment, loads of New Yorkers are probably recalling the haunting date, and exchanging stories of their experiences with peers, countless people all over, as well as outside, the United States are praying for their deceased loved ones, and toddlers are being tucked into bed, wondering why they were never allowed the privilege of meeting the man in the photos hung in their homes whom their mothers had identified as "Daddy."

Indeed, the world is mourning for the departed souls.

I, however, continue to grieve for the loss of my beloved Twin Towers.

Having been raised in Battery Park City, a charming neighborhood erected because of and adjecent to the former-skyscrapers, the Twin Towers played a significant role in my life.  Most recently, the World Trade Center Mall was where I ventured on a daily basis for anything from delectable foods to the subway to the latest albums to new clothes to school books.

Childhood memories of the World Trade Centers are notable, rich and plentiful.  Even before I was born, my father had established a respectable position as a vice president of Lehman Brothers, whose offices were located in One World Trade Center.  I distinctly remember my visits there, and the loving attention my sister Catherine and I received from his co-workers, who could not resist interrupting their work to scuttle around the office with us four and five-year-old cuties.  At the same time, my great-great-grandfather owned the management company that handled the Towers' Observation Deck of Two World Trade Center.  And by the age of seven, he had employed many members of my extended family to handle the gift shops.  My father was asked to manage the café, a position he gladly accepted so that he could spend more time with my sister and me.  Accordingly, Catherine and I spent every weekday after school on the 107th floor until middle school, riding the escalator that led to the roof for our amusement, pretending to work at the café by ringing up simple purchases for customers, gorging ourselves with freshly-made cotton candy and popcorn, having our photos taken to be ironed on sample mugs, t-shirts, and calendars at the gift shops, and feeding pennies to a machine that miraculously spit them out flattened and imprinted with an image of the Twin Towers.  I chuckle to myself when I think about the time my sister was discovered have lice, and a cashier settled her behind the café's counter to slowly and thoroughly comb through her short, jet black hair, as unsanitary as it was.  I still recollect my exciting eighth birthday celebration that was held at the Observation Deck, and the strange, smelly French clown Boo my parents had hired for the party (I still own a t-shirt with a photo of my friends, Boo, and me pressed on it!).  I bear in mind the Twin Towers' attack of the early 1990's, and how admirably my aunt Vicky led both co-workers and tourists alike to the roof to jog in place for warmth on the cold winter's day, then one hundred and seven flights down to safety.  My lips develop into a sweet smile whenever I relive my senior prom in my head, which took place at Windows on the World on the top floor of One World Trade Center in the company of my high school crush and a breathtaking view of a sunset on the Hudson....

Certainly, robust, healthy trees line the paths of the various parks that border my relatively isolated community.  Flowers of inestimable species germinate ubiquitously during the springtime, even in the most obsure locations.  A charming boardwalk is reminiscent of a Japanese garden, with characteristic wooden poles mimicking those found supporting the exterior of traditional Shinto temples.  And the sounds of the water lapping against the seawall can be heard clearly, and should provide great comfort for restless nights...but it does not.

Without the Twin Towers, for which my area existed, my community is empty, ill at ease, and forlorn.

Losing the Twin Towers is akin to suffering the loss of two great childhood friends.  The comfort I gained from their presence, the flashbacks of precious childhood memories I possessed upon entering either building (Even watching recovered footages of firefighters congregating in them on television last year brought a seemingly endless flow of tears to my eyes.), and the panacea they acted as in my daily life will all be missed dearly.  The skyscrapers will never be forgotten.

9/11.  Never forget.

xanga weblog by dunazade (Sept. 11,2003)

I See A Red Door And I Want It Painted Black

...and you thought I was gone...
(well I would at least like to think that I was that important)

...and after changes upon changes we are more or less the same...
(truthfully, I do think I am smarter than everyone but then again, you probably think the same thing about yourself too)

...and the topics at hand...

1.  DSL is still not up and running, that means someone is getting another cussing (the story of my life).  Next week I have time to put some effort into getting that taken care of and hopefully be up and running.

2.  I have some good ideas for Xanga projects (yes, the ADD has kicked in and yes, I am a little bit of a nerd and yes, I spend WAY too much time smoking, causing stupid thought patterns to cross my mind that seem brilliant at the time).

3.  Yes, I am in my office pretending to work at this very moment with no hangover whatsoever (although I believe that somehow defies the laws of nature).

...on a personal note...

1.  Despite what one, two, three or four of you might think, there was no mass orgy at my apartment last weekend.  Honestly, if you are going to talk about things that go on at my place, then ask me what is going on but don't take the words of...well, do I really need to say more?  So for those of you who are "concerned," the orgy is actually planned for this weekend, so you have plenty of time to warn your 30 year old friends (as if anyone of us is capable of speaking for anyone else) not to attend.  Then again, maybe you should spend a little less time speculating about what you might be missing and what might or might not be happening.

2.  Life is feeling really good right now.

D-

...come up and see me, make me smile...