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Wednesday, September 11, 2002
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Morning. I'm almost sleepy but falling out of it - which. I suppose is a good thing. I said that I wasn't going to do this.. but wow. A year ago just now I was sitting at the kitchen in Fairfield finishing up the first part of my design portofolio.. sucking down coffee. Any moment now I would have been listening to Tarrant trying to get me to come see the crash on Tv.. thinking that it was some little prop plane, thinking that it was an accident, nothing, until the radio started announcing things and I finally wandered into the bedroom just in time to see #2.
Its strange to think of how very much the course of my life has changed in one year, and how very little the outside world has. Those days we thought of plagues and scourges, race wars in the ghettos, churches/mosques being burned and who was right and wrong for it. I worried (unecessarily?) for the lives of my family and friends.. Thats all gone now, and I am greatful for its absence, but in other ways I feel as if I've moved backwards. Everyday banter was different: Getting a job at this or that firm, Which one of us was going to have what show at what gallery. Vague plans for my wedding, buisness, buying a home. And now I'm back in the north woods, feeling as if those things are so far from possible that I don't even think of them anymore. If anything they haunt me in oblique way. Little flashes at the corner of my eye so breif that can only catch a whiff of what is really gone; miss crumpets and devonshire tea, wearing high heels to job interviews and drinking mimosa in the morning at harbourside. Stupid. I feel... younger now. Stripped of responsibilties, independence, self suffieciency, opportunity... class. Its nice to be home - but today, I know. I want more than this.
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