I'm home from California, battling some kind of stomach virus that's caused me to lose about 12 pounds nearly overnight. I have to negotiate a start date for my job, I need to fill out paperwork to get my benefits and such in order, and I need to schedule and have surgery to correct a hernia. Other than that, I've got nothing going on, and there are a few things I'd like to write about. Once I'm feeling better, there will be some new content here.
One other note is that I can't believe how weird it feels to not be going back to Ann Arbor. I miss it already.
So all that stands between myself and complete freedom is 3 medium sized assignments that are due by Friday at 5pm. Then I'm done with college (for now) and Michigan forever. In previous years "complete freedom" has meant relief from the stress of the semester, or being able to enjoy the holidays with family, or the leisure and internships of summer. Not this year. This year it means goodbye to this place I've come to know and love. Nearly eight months ago, I wrote about the uncertainty that lay ahead for me. I think that I still feel the same way today that I did when I wrote those words. I knew that a lot of my friendships were going to be changing; I knew that this was my last hurrah. And! I was right about football! Really, though, I have enjoyed this semester if only because it allowed me to put off the rest of my life so that I could keep being a kid for eight more months. I was right about this semester being different. Many of the familiar faces are gone and have been replaced by fresh-faced 18-year-old kids who are younger than my sister. It is time to go. Finally.
This semester has been a challenge on many different fronts. It's been a challenge to stay focused and get my work done because I'm ready to be done with school. I'm not ready to be done with being in college, but I'm ready to not be doing the work and feeling like I'm falling behind every second my nose isn't in a book. It's been a challenge to look for a job, sell myself, and prepare for the next step in my life. It's been a challenge to be away from Andrea and not have my favorite person just down the street. It's been hard, but I feel like I've grown. Despite all of that, I'm still like 15 years old in my own mind. I don't feel any different than the shorter, leaner, pimply faced kid I used to be. I know I've changed and matured and grown, but I'll forever be 15 in my own mind. I can't really help but feel that I'm just getting ready to play grown-up with my own car, my own apartment, and my own job. I'm not sure if I'll ever get over that feeling. Growing up is a weird thing.
It's so strange to think about the journey that I'm about to complete. I can't help but think about how many times I felt like I was never going to make it. How insurmountable the mountain looked. How I had a seemingly infinite number of classes to complete. How most of those classes seemed impossible. Several times I was sure I'd wash out. But I kept clawing, kept grabbing, kept reaching. For every slip, I somehow managed to get back up and trudge on. Now, I'm but one step from the top. Now it seems as if the whole world is laid out beneath me. Honestly, as I take the final step to the summit, I can't help but look down and be amazed at the climb I've completed. My Dad told me a couple times that he had the same apprehensions about his own college career that I just described. He told me how he used to keep a sheet in his notebook with every ME course he’d need to complete before graduation. He said every semester he’d cross them off as they were completed, and how when he crossed off the final class he stared in disbelief at being done. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. He’s fond of telling me how that as he gets older, the more sense his own father makes. Tonight, he’s right twice. This might be the first and only time I’ll ever admit that. So I guess that means I’m growing up.
I was sitting here tonight thinking and relaxing when Annie Waits by Ben Folds started playing. It reminded me how we used to play cards on random nights in the dorms. Andrea and Mindy would come over and play euchre against me and Josh or me and Jeremy. We’d put on Ben Folds or Maroon 5 or middle school dance classics and hang out. It honestly seems like so long ago, but it’s one of the things that I miss the most. I’ll never be in that situation again, where I’m surrounded by my best friends and we can hang out on a random Tuesday nights because we feel like it. Now Mindy and Jeremy are full-fledged members of the work force and teetering dangerously on the threshold of adulthood. Andrea is in Philadelphia at grad school, and I’m about to join the work force. The one member of that group who crashed headfirst into adulthood was Josh. The same Josh who was single and not sure how to get over his first real heartbreak now has a fiancée and daughter.
It’s so surreal that one of my best friends is responsible for the life of another person, it makes growing up all the more real. It’s unbelievable how different our lives have turned out. Just a few years ago his biggest problem was being heartbroken and being in the place that I had recently struggled through. My biggest concern was that my heart jumped into my throat every time I sat next to Andrea on the couch. Now he’s an adult and I’m about to be? I couldn’t come up with two people were less ready to grow up than the two of us. And now we have. When did that happen?
I'll be back sometime this weekend with something of substance about my impending graduation and adulthood. Until then enjoy this totally true (and unsurprising, at least to me) story.
kristen0802: did i tell you i burnned the SHIT out of my hand beefkake59: doing what? beefkake59: something collasally stupid, I'm sure kristen0802: do you know me? kristen0802: well it was really REALLY cold in our apartment... soo... kristen0802: i turned on the oven to 500 and opened the door kristen0802: and my hands were so cold they were almost numb kristen0802: so as you would stick them near the fire, i stuck them in the oven beefkake59: *shakes head* kristen0802: any how kristen0802: i go to take them out because they were getting a little too warm for my liking kristen0802: and i think mal was talking to me, prob telling me what a bad idea it was to stick my hands in the oven kristen0802: as im saying, i'll be fine... kristen0802: SSS-ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ kristen0802: smacked my hand on the top of the inside of the oven kristen0802: and it looked like a toasted marshmellow.. like how the outter layer gets all burnt and peels away beefkake59: the back of your hand, I hope kristen0802: right on my knuckel beefkake59: knuckle kristen0802: whatever kristen0802: cant heat, cant spell... move on
So, the words... they fail me... except for that one word. What is it? Oh man, the word I'm looking for...
OH!
FUCKING ANGER
Wait, that's two words. Wait, I missed one. Extreme. Extreme fucking anger. I could sit here all night and go on. I could list a million reasons why what's happened isn't fair. How about I just go with the one nobody's talking about. Lost in this entire argument of dollars and "that other team had its shot" and "the SEC is like the toughest conference in history" is this: This game is played by kids. We're out there trumpeting every reason why Michigan shouldn't get another chance, except that it deserves one. Anybody who used their eyes should be able to see that Michigan is, was, and continues to be more impressive than Florida. And if the players are any reflection of their head coach, Michigan's kids will do me and my community proud. But it's a group of kids that's getting screwed. Not a fan base. Not a city. Not a State. Not a university. Not a conference. A group of 60 kids is getting screwed. And that's the most sickening thing about this.
There are three days to go before what is The Biggest Game In The History of Ever, or simply, The Game. This has caused my week to slow to a crawl. I spend all the time thinking about this game, thinking about Mike Hart and Steve Breaston and Chad Henne and Alan Branch and LaMarr Woodley and Leon Hall and David Harris and Mario Manningham and Jake Long and Rondell Biggs and Mark Bihl and Reuben Riley and Tim Jamison and Shawn Crable and Prescott Burgess and everybody else. I've spent this week daydreaming about seeing Steve Breason streaking down the sideline coming right towards me in the corner of the endzone. I've had dreams about Steve not being satisfied to simply cross the goal line, but needing to continue on to celebrate with the frenzied Michigan faithful who had waited four long years for Steve to re-arrive and who couldn't care less that he waited as long as he did. Because he was finally there. And so were we.
I decided long ago that a loss would probably bring me to tears, so I just haven't thought much about it. To me, there is a sense of desperation that hasn't ever existed before. There was the very un-Lloyd Carr like admission that we had been preparing for this game all season. There's the sense that Mike Hart has been waiting for this just like each and every one of us has. To put it frankly, I believe there is a quiet confidence in this city. Not just because we really believe, but because we ache for the sweet taste that a victory on Saturday would deliver. To be 100% truthful, I've never wanted anything more in my life as a fan than I want this. I'd give back the Steelers Superbowl for this. Somewhere in the depths of my soul I believe that this was meant to be, for us to not just climb up the mountain that we were so un-gloriously and embarrassingly knocked from last season, but to climb higher than we'd ever been before. And it's perfect that the final step is Ohio State on its turf.
But my words don't do it justice. All the farther you need to go is here, where Johnny of RBUAS says perfectly, "Somewhere, years from now, I may wake from sleep as a brunette’s blue eyes take the air from my lungs with a tornado stare; I may lay shirtless on warm beaches and watch fuchsia sunsets with foreign booze on my lips; I may leave footprints in Mars’ red dirt, but give me a Michigan win on Saturday and you can save your inquiries as to which moment I’ll favor."
Also: Bonus Emotional Picture Montage!
And with that, I'm off to Austin, Texas to interview with Dell. I fly out tomorrow morning. I'll spend the afternoon and evening checking out Austin. Friday, I interview from 1:30-3:30. Then I hustle to the airport and get on a plane for Minneapolis, which will then connect me on to Detroit. From there Phil will pick me up and we'll trek back to Ann Arbor to pick up Jeremy and my car and begin our journey deep into the belly of the beast, where we'll go to watch the Game of The Century.
Yesterday I turned 22. Considering how I felt last year about turning 21, it's safe to say that today I feel really old. I'll probably keep feeling this way until I'm senile and no longer posses the capacity to feel feelings. Also of note: no carnage today, despite the fact that we went out last night and had ourselves a good time.
I've heard back on a couple of jobs. Dell wants me to fly to Austin, Texas for an on-site interview next Friday. They're going to pay to fly me out, put me up in the nicest hotel in town, and give me the VIP treatment. Awesome. I'm also supposed to fly in to Philadelphia for an interview next week, although that might get put off a week because I was waiting to hear back from Dell and professors over whether or not I'd have the time to go. Regardless of when I go, it'll be nice to head back to where I spent most of the summer. It will also be nice to get an unplanned visit in with Andrea.
And while I'm all excited about getting flown all over the country, etc., I'm nervous about how I'm going to work everything out for The Biggest Game In The History Of Ever. Dell's thing is an entire weekend event, although Saturday's activities are optional and the interviews are Friday. I've already spoken with them and told them that I have a prior trip booked for that Saturday morning and absolutely positively must be back in Detroit Friday night. I'm sure there's not much else I can do now except wait to hear back from them. It will all work out.
[Editorial note: I wrote this before Game 5 of the World Series. As I watched that game slip away from the Tigers, I realized that I just couldn’t root against them. I had waited too long for a team that I cared about to be in that position to just wish it away. It helped that I talked with my father before the game. I told him essentially the message of what’s written after the jump. I told him that it didn’t seem right to me to be going to my first World Series game without him. He told me that I should go and not feel bad about it, because you never know when your next chance will be. As I watched the Cardinals celebrate, I was at least able to feel good for them and their fans, but I was surprised at how much the Tigers loss stung me. I know its long but if you’ve found your way here, I hope that you’ll stick it out and read the entirety of this post.]
Just remember I called it come April when Villanova is riding the good karma of this to the national championship.
Yes, that really happened. At their Midnight Maddness event for the men's basketball team. My favorite part in the video is around the 35 second mark when 50 gets mobbed by the basketball team. Awesome. People say things like, "Michigan is a "football school" and, "who needs basketball when we've got football like we do?" Oh? You wouldn't support an event like that? Although, I don't quite think its Tommy Amaker's style to (a) bring in players good enough that 50 would want to party with, and (b) actually bring something, anything interesting to the program, Brent Petway not withstanding. Maybe we should hire Snoop when Amaker inevitably gets fired. Like he wouldn't kill everybody else recruiting?
After the Steelers sickening defeat to the Falcons on Sunday, Dan Rooney, the usually reserved owner of the Steelers, felt the need to speak his mind.
In a league where they've instructed their officials to throw a flag any time a defensive player even so much as breathes on a quarterback, a helmet-to-helmet hit which knocked Ben Roethlisberger unconscious neither drew a flag or a fine. I'm not talking about a Penn State fan knee-jerk reactionary Alan Branch helmet-to-helmet here. I'm talking about a vicious shot to the head that left Roethlisberger face down and unconscious for several minutes. I'm talking about a hit before which one of the Falcon defenders reportedly told Roethlisberger they were going to re-rearrange his already rearranged face. With that quote and the hit how can there not be a fine? I'm not the only one who finds this ludicrous as Mr. Rooney, among other things, had this to say.
"Those officials should be ashamed of themselves. That last call, you don't get that kind of call."
"That last call" which Mr. Rooney is referring to was a false start call on Nate Washington with 8 seconds to go and the Steelers attempting to spike it in field goal range, which would have at least allowed for a game-winning field goal attempt. Why was he frosted about that call? Because Washington was asking the official if he was lined up on the line of scrimmage, and when the official told him he needed to move up, and Washington did, a flag was thrown. By the official who told him to take a step forward. Unbelievable. Further evidence of Mr. Rooney's anger over the officiating.
In fact, just to make sure he drove his point home, Rooney handed [commissioner] Goodell a copy of the Post-Gazette, including his quotes, at a league meeting in New Orleans on Tuesday. By that time, Goodell already was aware of Rooney's sentiments about the officiating. Further evidence that Rooney was determined to get the most mileage for his money: The Steelers actually announced the fine Friday.
Yeah! Don't take this horseshit lying down! Fight the man! While I think Mr. Rooney's reactions are hilarious and justified, this is just another reason college football is light years better than the NFL.
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From: ME Student Adviser Subject: Registration For Winter 07 Semester Coming Soon
AHHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AAHAHAHHAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! *tears flowing from laughter* *gasping for air* AHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *sides hurting from the laughing and crying* HHHHHHAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA
I haven't had a good laugh like that since, well, this.
Tonight I officially entered the twilight of my college career. All that stands between me and graduation is one exam and two papers. With the completion of my half-term course, my class load is down to 1 class a day for 90 minutes, 4 days a week. My one exam will not be until December, and neither will either of the papers I have due. All that is left is to enjoy my remaining time in Ann Arbor. Enjoy the remaining football games, enjoy campus, sleeping in, the library, my janky apartment, my friends, weekends at home, wearing a hoodie everyday of the week, cheap beer, the irritating one-way streets in the city, and the college life.
While many of my friends have gone on to join the working class, I have remained behind. And I have been rewarded. I have not taken for granted the fact that I can sleep until noon on a Tuesday, if I please. You can rest assured I will continue to sleep until noon as often as I can get away with it. I have enjoyed the walk to the Michigan Stadium on football Saturday's just a little bit more this fall. I have been lucky enough to come home to "F YOU!" or "YOUR MOM!" most days this year. Although 300 Williams v2.0 has been far less tame, it hasn't been all that much less enjoyable. It is weird that Jeremy goes to work instead of class. But he's here (and playing computer games) about the same amount of time, anyway. We actually have kitchen space to fight over this year, and Phil tries to rule it with an iron fist. The only things missing are the close quarters and Mike charging into our apartment at any given time.
There are only a handful of things left to do. I want to eat breakfast and Angelo's, once with Phil and Jeremy, and once with Andrea. I want to hit Blimpie Burger one last time, take pictures if I feel like it, order from Cottage Inn as often as possible, go to the bar whenever I can find people to go with, and play touch football in the Big House.
So this is what those devastating losses feel like. I forgot, it had been since like last December since I had one of those. I've been not really wanting to say anything about this whole "Michigan Football 8-0" thing. About the whole "BIGGEST GAME IN THE HISTORY OF EVER!" thing that's shaping up. Mostly because I don't really want to get my hopes too high. Last year will do that to you. Anyway, it's been nice. It's been great. But that's not my problem.
My problem is with the f-ing Steelers. It's been like one disaster after another since the championship parade. The Roethlisberger motorcycle crash and the Roethlisberger nearly bursting appendix thing. The Cowher is going to retire and move to North Carolina thing. Then the season began, and Roethlisberger came back and played like crap for the first few games. Now he's lighting the world on fire again, and he gets knocked out cold today, and out of the game. There's the defense being ranked nearly dead last. It's just ridiculous. I know I can't complain because they won the Superbowl last year. But dammit, I swear it seems like they're trying to kill me. Which brings me to today. Holy unbelievable shit, what a game. But we came out on the losing end because our defense, which sometimes is called "The Steel Curtain", couldn't have stopped my grandfather in a wheelchair today. It was a loss of the soul mangling variety. I'm nearly sick over it.
Was it really that long ago I was reading this newspaper in joyous disbelief?
It's been a little while since I've posted. I've got nothing better to do at the moment, so what the hell, here's an update.
After spending some time bitching and moaning about the whole job finding process, I've been granted 2 interviews. One with Schlumberger and the other with Lincoln Electric. I'm hoping to also get an interview with Belden. And other places, obviously. But for the moment those are my best leads.
Last weekend I drove roughly 2,000 miles. Starting Thursday, I went to Philadelphia to see Andrea. Spent all day Friday with her. Saturday morning, we made the 3 hour-ish drive to State College for the Michigan-Penn State game. My whole family was there, which was awesome. Everybody had a great time, and we ended up winning. So it was a great trip. Jeremy has a YouTube video of it, which I'm hoping he'll graciously link in the comments because I'm too lazy to go looking for it at the moment. From there, I drove home and spent Sunday-Tuesday enjoying fall break. Tuesday I came back to school. And that was that.
Today I had my first real exam of the semester. It actually went much better than I had anticipated. I spent a good portion of last night studying what turned out to be the wrong material. In the end, it didn't matter because I was prepared for a WAY harder exam than the one we were given. So that's nice. And now there's nothing standing between me and my next exam at 3:30 Monday afternoon. Also, having Fridays off is awesome. I hate that I was never able to have it off when everybody else was around.
Yesterday, Buck O'Neil passed away. It brings me great sadness to write those words. Mr. O'Neil was truly one of the greatest ambassadors the game of baseball has ever had. As the eloquent eulogy by ESPN tells, "He saw Babe Ruth hit home runs and Roger Clemens throw strikes. He talked hitting with Lou Gehrig and Ichiro Suzuki." That's incredible.
O'Neil was a staple at the Kansas City Royals games I used to attend. He simply would sit behind home plate and keep score. In between innings he would sign autographs and take pictures. He would talk baseball with fathers and sons. Including this son and his father. The last time I went to a game in Kauffman Stadium, it was for my Dad's birthday in 1996. During the game, my Dad and I walked up to him and took a picture. My father shook his hand and told him how grateful he was, as a baseball fan, for all the hard work that O'Neil had done to make sure that a Negro Leagues museum was opened and that fans were reminded of the great players who populated that league. I'm sure that Buck was appreciative. And on a night like tonight, when the Tigers fans are out in full force (and deservedly so), it is I who am appreciative and proud to be a Kansas City fan. Because of Buck.
The anxiety I wrote about last night hasn't gone away. I'm just so frustrated and so bitter and so angry about the job hunting process as a whole. I guess maybe I don't really understand it. I know several people who've been called for interviews, while I've been called for none. Its not like the people who've been called have better grades than I do, some do but most don't, so I guess it must be my presentation or something.
I guess today my anger is more directed at the University. Over my four plus years here, I've gone back and forth on whether or not it's really been worth it. Obviously I'm thankful that I came here and met the people I did and had all the fun that I've had. But sometimes I can't help but wonder "what if". All these companies come in here looking for some inflated GPA, which not many Michigan students have. At least not in engineering. What if I had gone somewhere else where the was grade inflation? What if I had gone somewhere with a reputation and academic standing less than that of Michigan? It almost surely would have resulted in me coming away with that magical 3.0 (or better) GPA. It seems as though that's all companies look for. To hell with the academic reputation of this institution, to hell with work experience, they just want that number.
The whole thing leaves me furious with the University for not standing up for its students. I think the University has a responsibility to stand up and fight for its students to have a place to go in industry. They don't. They let companies come in here and cherry pick the top 5-10% and then leave the rest in a scrap heap. They don't tell corporations that many (qualified) students don't have 3.0 GPAs, and that that fact shouldn't be held against them because as the University likes to believe, we're the best of the best. I just don't get it. What's the tangible benefit of paying nearly twice as much for my education to not get a job in the end when I could have gone to State for half the price, half the headache, and twice the job offers? Isn't it the University's responsibility to promote its students and provide ample opportunities for everyone? I don't know, maybe I'm just irrationally angry and bitter over the whole process. Maybe I'm failing at selling myself to these companies. I just don't see how I can sell myself any better than I did this week. If I had the last two days to do all over again, I certainly would have lashed out at recruiters looking for 3.0's or better. I certainly would have sold myself harder. In the end, though, I'm not sure it would have made any difference becaus it's just so hard when you're dead before you even begin.
So I'm sitting here at my computer at 2:05 am, more exhausted than I've been in a very long time and yet I can't sleep. I'm so aggravated that I can't stop my mind from racing or from tossing and turning in bed. What has me so worked up? The two most ominous words for an engineering student at U of M. Career Fair. Let me state unequivocally, the two days of career fair are my two least favorite days of the year. Without exception. It's the most humbling, soul crushing process you could possibly endure at this university.
For two days companies from all over the country descend on U of M to recruit its students. And the students dutifully comply, dressing up in suits and standing in long lines for a 3 minute conversation with a recruiter. This recruiter from any company- it doesn't matter- will undoubtedly throw your resume away and probably never think about you again. You walk around with your resume, a piece of paper that describes your personal value and everything you've ever accomplished. You have spent the past 18 years of your life being formally educated. Likely at great cost. You've been training your whole life to become an educated and productive member of society. And all that training and effort and work has been boiled down to this one piece of paper. A piece of paper that any recruiter will look at and immediately start tearing apart. "What about your activities? Why weren't you in any clubs? Your GPA seems a little low." Bam, confidence gone. You never really stood a chance.
And the recruiters, ohhhhhhh these fucking people, they're a special kind of person. They're qualified to read you in a 30 second time frame and immediately determine whether or not you'll fit in with their company. They'll judge you on any criteria. GPA, activities, work experience, color of your tie, it doesn't really matter. They'll find a reason to throw your resume away. I like to think there's a special place reserved in hell for these people. Allow me to elaborate...
I'm standing in line today to talk to the recruiters from L'Oreal. They're one of the largest manufacturers in the US. It seems like a decent enough place to work. They have about 6 recruiters, so they're obviously looking for people, and I think it might be a good fit. I'm looking for something in manufacturing, they're looking for somebody with an interest in manufacturing. So I wait in line. As I'm waiting, I'm watching the recruiters and trying to gage how they're treating the students. I'm standing and watching, and I notice this guy is running through student after student after student. He's just systematically destroying people. I can just tell, he's wearing the smarmy recruiter smile, and the students who he's finished with just slink away. I'm absolutely dreading talking to this guy, and hoping somebody else comes available first. But I'm not that lucky. So I walk up and introduce myself, tell him that I have an interest in manufacturing. I tell him that I had friends who worked for L'Oreal and enjoyed it. I'm starting to tell him about my work experience in manufacturing and he cuts me off. "I'm sorry, I don't see your GPA on here, what is it?" This is the point where I'm toast. I tell him 2.8, he comes right back with "oh, well... we sort of have a rule of candidates having a 3.0 or better. It's not a firm rule, but we try to stick to it." The whole time, this guy is wearing a smug look that I'm just itching to wipe off his face with the back of my hand. I'm toast. He knows that I know I'm toast, and this little interview is over. But I want to just slam this guy so bad. I should have gone off on this guy. I should have told him "oh, I suppose that all these 3.0's back here have 2 summer's worth of experience in manufacturing. I suppose that they've taken Statistical Process Control, Lean Manufacturing, and Manufacturing Systems Design. I'm sure they've all had experience as a line supervisor. That's okay, you just keep looking for that number, don't worry about the fact that I'd love to do a job just like the one you're hiring for. All that matters is that old GPA, right? Nevermind, why would I EVER want to work for a company that would hire you, you fucking douchebag. I forgot, you're the smartest fucking guy in the room. Give me that resume back motherfucker." That's what I should have done. But instead, I just slinked away with my tail between my legs and my ego completely crushed. Just like everyone else.
I think I've gotten off to an awful start to my final semester. I'm not going to bed until like 3 or 3:30, I'm not able to get up until like 11, and my eating patterns are all screwed up. I basically drive everywhere I go, I get no physical activity, I spend copious amounts of time sitting squarely on my ass, and I'm not eating right. The thing is, I know how grossly overweight I am. I'm closer to 300 pounds than I am to the weight I started college at. Holy shit. Aaaaaaand, I know that I have high blood pressure and a high resting heart rate. Way to go, Matt. I spend a lot of time in physical pain because I'm carrying around probably 60 pounds more than I need to. My knees are a pain in the ass, and I'm experiencing a fairly moderate level of pain in my back as I type this. I have no idea why my back hurts, but I'm about 90% sure it's due to the fact that I'm fat. So what do I do about it? I bitch in my livejournal. Awesome, this is really productive.
I think that I'm going to set my alarm for 10 and take my sorry ass to the gym. I don't know exactly what level of exercise I'll be able to tolerate because it's been roughly a month since I've moved faster than walking. I'm not sure I know how to go easy when I'm at the gym. Every time I start to exercise, I kick my ass for two or three days and then I can't move, and then I stop going to the gym altogether. Anyway, I'm gonna give it a shot. Hopefully I'll be able to point to this entry in a month or two and say "that was my turning point".
Nearly 5 years ago to the minute, I showed up for 3rd period. After spending half an hour at lunch, my classmates and I returned to class confused to see a large cloud of dust on the TV. We all knew what happened, but what we didn't know was that the first tower had come crashing down. Nobody knew until Mr. Armstrong showed up and said words that I'll never forget, "when we went to lunch there were two. Now, there's only one."
Nobody moved, nobody blinked, nobody breathed, nobody had any idea how to feel. We all sat in stunned silence watching the scene unfold. Then, the second tower came down. I'll never forget how I felt. I can't describe it. As the second tower crashed to the earth, it seemed as if the whole world stood still. There were no sounds, only horrifying pictures of an event that nobody could have ever imagined.
My point is that 5 years ago our world changed forever. Nearly 3,000 innocent people went to work and never returned home. All I ask is that if you read these words today, please take a moment to say a prayer for those people. Take a moment to remember the members of the New York Fire Department, Police Department, and Port Authority who ran into those burning buildings trying to save lives, but never came out.
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