It was okay - most of the time. Work went well on Thursday. Quarters are definitely cramped and I did hear many spine tingling stories about Sept 11, but overall, my co-workers seem to be dealing with things in a positive way.

A lot of the things they said to me were familiar. I have heard near identical sentences from my friends in Oklahoma City in these years following that bombing. Flags line their desks and many people have pictures of the towers taped to their computer monitors. My 2 training rooms have been taken over by traders who were previously located in the WTC. When I poked my head in to see if I could find my training manuals and supplies I was amazed at the determination for business to go on as normal. These people had private offices with oak desks a month ago...

Thursday night we had seafood on the pier with a view of Queens and then (my boss, Dave and I) went to see The Full Monty on Broadway. It was wonderful! The theater was packed - sold out. And FM being one of my favourite stories, I loved it. Drinks and a cigar after at the famous JR's Cigar Bar topped off the evening. There was something so energizing about walking down Broadway at midnight and seeing the sidewalks full of people laughing, chatting and spending money. Over there is a sequined dress, and there is my favourite MTV VJ.
Everyone kept saying, "Guilliani said to go to a show, so here we are!" It was less about survival instincts and more about a collective "Screw you!" thrown back at the terrorists who though they could take down NYC.

Friday morning I had a rich girl’s breakfast in my room and then met to go to ground zero to have a look at the condition of our building at 130 Liberty Street. The headline of the newspaper that day warned of toxic fumes coming from the site so I used a bandana to filter the air I breathed. Security was heavy but after walking about a mile around the site, we finally got a clear view of our building. The front part of the first six - nine floors sustained the most damage from part of WT Tower 2 having fallen into it. About half the windows are blown out and are now covered with a red mesh drop cloth to keep out - birds? (I'm not sure) I can see my friend Adam's office - or what I think is his office and our training rooms. As you know, in OKC many people in surrounding buildings were killed because the blast was without warning and the debris came trough their office windows. In a strange twist of emotion, I am so thankful these were planes that hit the WTC and not bombs down below. Adam and all but six DB employees made it out of our buildings to safety.

On that same corner I finally see something that stops me in my tracks. The entrance of WTC near Borders Books, where I have gone every time I visited NY is a charred mess. I was now able to visualise each store, bench, and window that had been there before. Further on we see the broken frame of the atrium that connected the 2 towers where I would be having coffee. Now I could get a real image of what it must have been like that day. - People from the Path trains, women shopping at Strawberry retail and the music fans with their headphones on in Borders all turning toward the blast and then confusion and finally running for their lives. I think of all those people who worked there, now without jobs, wondering what to do.

The police and firemen stand guard at every intersection, it seems and many are wearing air masks. The smell is not rancid, like many people think. The smell is of ashes and dust that sticks not only to shoes, but to my eyes and lungs and the storefronts and windows of buildings as far as Wall Street. Again, this is something I have seen before, but Dave has not and he is visibly shaken. He has never seen a war zone. Up until this point I have not taken any pictures. I know the images will stay in my mind for the rest of my life and I feel it's as disrespectful to unleash a camera in the area as it would be at any murder scene. But Dave asks me to take a picture of our building. Though I understand his reasoning, I can't do it. I hand the camera to him.

I am surprised at how well I am handling all the sadness, even to the point of worrying about Dave, as I watch his eyes widen with disbelief and anger the more damage we see. Before we leave the area, we go into St. Peters, which is open and busy. We sit in separate sections to pray and collect our thoughts before heading to the airport. I bow my head and as it touches the top of the pew in front of me, tears begin rolling down my face. I cry so hard my body shakes and at that moment the only thing that compares to my sadness is my total surprise at how much I needed to cry.

Sitting there in St. Peter’s , I couldn’t help but question myself about what I am doing personally to stop the spread of hatred in the world. Since I was twelve years old I have been torn between two career paths. One path will takes me, via Nashville, to California or New York where I could be a “mover and shaker” in the entertainment business. That path requires me to be concerned about money and sales and always looking the part, but it also (in it’s own way) opens up doors of communication and has the opportunity to teach the value of life through songs, movies and television. I don’t want my writing ability to go to waste.
The other path is that of world outreach in a most direct way - humanitarian aid. I could easily be a missionary, if it were not for my lukewarm enthusiasm about denominational Christianity. I kick myself every day for not finishing college. This has prevented me from pursuing a career with the FBI or politics, which I dream about as often as I dream of accepting a Grammy. Who wants to learn Arabic? I do! Give me your many religions, your ancient ways and your rare language – I love to learn about these things. Unlike many of my friends I believe I CAN make a difference in my government and the world by way of compassion and intelligent problem solving. When I hear the words “non-profit”, my ears perk up.

I struggle daily with these two very different worlds which both seem to be calling out to me. About half my friends think I should move to Romania and the other half think I should get to California. Not being able to make a firm decision on what to do has basically prevented me from getting anywhere in a career. Every non-creative job I’ve ever had, my bosses have ended up telling me I should open my own business – something where I can be creative and help people. NO kidding!

New York City. Here I am in New York City still wondering what the freak to do with my life, feeling like I’ve run in circles. I asked God once more, for serious guidance, letting Him know that I am truly at my wit end. I ask, no; I beg God to help the people of NYC, Pennsylvania and DC to not be numb to what they’ve seen. I want them to be forever changed, no matter how painful it is to face the facts. There is a joke when someone gets emotionally hurt “Wow. That’s gonna leave a mark.” And I hope this does leave a mark on these people’s lives – a fingerprint of God. I want us all to feel, see, face this enemy of hatred so that we will, collectively and individually stand up and fight it by choosing paths for our lives that are maybe more difficult or unconventional, but right and intelligent.

The boat ride back to NJ shows us the skyline once more and I find, for the first time, I don't want to leave this place. Dave says to me that seeing the buildings today made him realise that he is not safe – that all of this business of war (holy or not) does affect him. I nod in agreement. I have known that for six years, but telling him seems like an admittance of guilt. My head is heavy with the knowledge that I need to make a decision about who I am. War doesn’t call for complacency, it calls for action.

The World I Know:
by Collective Soul – from the self titled cd.

Has our conscience shown?
Has the sweet breeze blown?
Has all the kindness gone?
Hope still lingers on.
I drink myself of newfound pity
Sitting alone in New York City
And I don't know why.

So I walk up on high
And I step to the edge
To see my world below.
And I laugh at myself
As the tears roll down.
'Cause it's the world I know.
It's the world I know

Are we listening
To hymns of offering?
Have we eyes to see
That love is gathering?
All the words that I've been reading
Have now started the act of bleeding
Into one.