I have never before written down my experience of September 11, 2001. In a way, this felt very cathartic, and yet at the same time it broke my heart. Here it is:

What I remember most about that day was that it was one of the most beautiful days I had seen in a long time. The sky was so blue that it made everything else look sharper and more in focus. After a long, hazy summer, I remember being thrilled to be cooled off by the temperature and back to a schedule. I love schedules. I love having to be at a certain place at a certain time. I love homework and assignments. I love reading and writing and crossing things off my to-do list. Seven years later and I miss the innocence of that September morning more than anything else.

It was the first day of my final journalism course at Emerson. I greeted all of the friends and classmates that I hadn’t seen since last May. Being in such an intensive journalism program as Emerson offers, we typically stay with the same group of people for all four years. These were not just friends and classmates, these faces were family.

Amanda was the first person I approached on this cool, beautiful morning. And she started right in, as if we were already mid-conversation.

“We are definitely going to have a news quiz today and I think I heard something about a plane crashing into the World Trade Center,” she said, more nervous about not knowing the details and failing the quiz than about a plane crashing into a building. It wasn’t her fault, at this point we all thought it was probably a small, single engine plane being flown by a novice. We had no idea.

“Justin went to get the television set so we can catch up before Marsha gets here.” Amanda informed me. Marsha was our strictest and toughest teacher and yet we still referred to her only by her first name. That’s how we referred to all of our teachers, because we were more like co-workers than students. We were all buzzing about what facts we could share, what we had heard and how many details we could lay bare on the table and digest in time for the quiz.

At that moment, the television set appeared in the doorway, pushed steadily by Justin and Mike. We plugged it in and watched as smoke poured out of one of the towers, a steady black stream of smoke hovering over the World Trade Center like an ominous rain cloud. We were no longer worried about a pop quiz. We didn’t need to be tested on date and time and the people involved, there was no way any of this was being overlooked or forgotten. We knew, even at this early moment, that we would never forget our first day of journalism class. But we had no idea how indelible these images would become or to what extreme measures they would infiltrate our psyches.

Watching the second tower get hit was surreal. At first we thought it was a replaying of the first plane but then we realized that the first tower was already smoking as the second plane curved like a razor wrapping itself around the building and plunging deep into its hard, metal center.

It was at this moment that my teacher, a hard, strict, angry woman, let out a moan unlike anything I had ever heard. “My sister works in that building,” she whispered. And then I realized that the sound she had made was the sound of a heart breaking from fear. She rushed from the room to make what would turn out to be a futile phone call to her sister’s office. As she stepped from the room, the second tower collapsed and we all silently stared at each other hating the knowledge we had over our teacher. For the first time we knew something she didn’t and would have given anything not to have it.

We could hear her wails from down the hall as we sat in stunned silence. I pulled out my cell phone and tried calling home. I had five text messages from my sister, all with the same urgent and fearful phrase. COME HOME NOW. And more than anything, that is where I wanted to be.

As if a switch had been flicked, my classmates started rising to their feet and rushing to the door. My teacher had her beat up leather purse straps gathered in her shaking hands as she rushed down the stairs ahead of us. No one said goodbye. No one asked any questions. Everyone seemed to have their own destination in mind. My destination was the subway. I wanted to ride it straight out of the city and have someone save me from wherever I ended up. My cell phone wouldn’t work and the subways were evacuation terminals. Everywhere I looked people were trying to squeeze their bodies into small subway cars. The panic was starting to rise in my chest and settle around my heart. I could feel it constricting each heart beat and turning my once strong, indestructible organ into a fluttering butterfly. Swallowing became a deliberate action that required thought and preparation. What had happened to the world? How can destruction this brutal occur in the blink of an eye?

Many people talk about the connections and the closeness that they experienced with their neighbors and friends. For me, it felt more like a surreal connection. The shock was too overwhelming and too new to even begin to share these feelings with anyone. The repeated phrase, Oh My God, was one I heard pass between more than a few strangers’ lips. But a connection was not made. A common fear was recognized, but nothing more. I wanted to be with my family, watching the events unfold before me on a television screen miles from any danger. I didn’t know where the next attack would be, or if there would be another attack. No one knew. And I sought solace and comfort in the voices of the television anchors. That was where my connection was found. Because they were the ones who could give me answers, or at least try.

I ran from what I feared and sought solace in the educated and informed voices of strangers with familiar faces. And that is what I remember about September 11, 2001. It was a beautiful day, with clear blue skies and the promise of new beginnings. It was also the day my innocence was lost amidst the black smoke and rubble of a world torn apart.

I haven’t been neglecting you dear blog readers! I have just been merely coming up with some great blog posts to delight your eyes and enrich your mind! (Am I promising too much?) Have no fear…I’m back.

Here’s a great quote that I just found the other day.

Life is a succession of moments. To live each one is to succeed.” – Corita Kent

I am currently reading this book:

It is so great! I love the writing style, the story, the characters. Everything!

And don’t forget…

i want to not always try to make things better. i want to let things just happen and not worry about putting in my two cents. i want everyone i love to be happy and i want to be with them to enjoy their happiness. i want to not “want” anything. i want to not imagine how things could, should, would be. i want more hours in the day. i want lazy moments. i want to not feel guilty about anything. i want to never stress about anything ever again. i want more laughter, less tears. i want no frustration, anger or disappointment. i want to know exactly what my dreams are and i want to accomplish them all. i want to find my hidden talent. i want to stop putting myself down or beating myself up. i want to capture the essence of peace and live with it in my heart-always. i want everything to fall into place. i want to be the person i admire. i want to make the most of these wonderful days and have no regrets. i don’t want to worry about having regrets. i want my thoughts to be more productive and less overly analytical. i want to be inspired daily and to be able to find inspiration in the ordinary. i want to have millions of those moments when everything feels alright with the world.

“Our society is mistaken: the experience of maturing is infinitely more delightful than ‘perpetual youth.’ In youth one is likely to wish to be experienced (especially if one is an attractive woman) – that is, to be watched, listened to, admired; in maturity one is far more interested in experiencing – in living. The acute self-consciousness of the attractive woman is crippling. Wishing to be viewed, the woman surrenders her own vision; she sacrifices herself to her own image.”

-Joyce Carol Oates

Don’t forget, to get up-to-the-minute news on everything I find interesting, head over to http://jocelynkelley.tumblr.com/

Here’s another fascinating post from Gretchen’s Happiness Project…about friendship.

Here are eight psychological terms and principles that I’ve found helpful as I’ve been trying to build and strengthen my friendships.

1. Triadic closure. In a phenomenon called “triadic closure,” people tend to befriend the friends of their friends – and this is very satisfying. Friendships thrive on inter-connection, and it’s both energizing and comforting to feel that you’re building not just friendships, but a social network. I now make much more of an effort to help my friends become friends with each other, and to befriend friends’ friends. (Total non sequitur: “befriend friends’ friends” is quite a phrase! Bad writing, but I couldn’t resist.)

2. Emotional contagion. “Emotional contagion” is a strong psychological effect in which we “catch” the happy, sad, or angry moods of others. Someone in a happy, energetic mood will help boost the moods of others, and obviously, this creates a very pleasant atmosphere. Unfortunately, negative moods are more contagious than positive moods; if I’m crabby, I can trigger a wave of crabbiness in my friends. I’m trying to do a better job of living up to my duty to be happy.

3. The mere exposure effect. Familiarity breeds affection. The “mere exposure effect” describes the fact that repeated exposure makes people like music, faces — even nonsense syllables — better. Because of the “exposure principle,” the more often a person sees another person, the more intelligent and attractive that person will be ranked. So I try to put myself in situations where I’m going to see a lot of the same people over and over.

4. Fundamental attribution error. The fundamental attribution error is a psychological phenomenon in which we tend to view other people’s actions as reflections of their characters, and to overlook the power of the situation to influence their action. In other words, we over-emphasize the role that personality plays in shaping others’ behavior, and under-emphasize the role of outside forces. I assume that the guy in the drugstore is an inconsiderate jerk because he rushed ahead of me to get to the counter, when in fact, he’s very considerate, and he’s rushing to get home with the medicine for his sick girlfriend.

5. Warmth. Attraction is reciprocal; we tend to like people more when we think the like us. So if I’m friendly and openly pleased to see someone person, that person is more likely to feel friendly toward me. Instead of playing it cool, I try to show a lot of warmth.

6. Smiling. As obvious as it seems, studies do show that we’re perceived as more friendly when we smile more (it also helps to have an expressive face, to nod, to lean forward, to have a warm tone). The sheer amount of time smiling makes a very big difference on perceived friendliness.

7. Subliminal touching. Studies show that subliminal touching – that is, touching touching a person so unobtrusively that it’s not noticed – dramatically increases that person’s sense of well-being and positive feelings toward the toucher. And vice versa. This fleeting touching might be something like touching a person’s back as you walk through a door, or touching his or her arm for emphasis.

8. Situation evocation. In situation evocation, we spark a response from people that reinforces a tendency we already have — for example, if I act irritable all the time, the people around me are probably going to treat me with less patience and helpfulness, which will, in turn, stoke my irritability. If I can manage to joke around, I’ll evoke a situation in which the people around me were more likely to joke around, too. In other words, I make my own weather.

As with many aspects of happiness, people often assume that friendship should flow easily and naturally, and that trying to “work” on it is forced and inauthentic. But in the bustle of everyday life, it’s easy to forget to take time for our real priorities. Since I’ve started trying to keep my happiness-project resolutions, I’ve found that my friendships have expanded and deepened. It’s worth the effort.

I have been following Gretchen Rubin’s blog, THE HAPPINESS PROJECT, for quite some time now. She is incredibly inspiring and offers great advice on a very regular basis. Gretchen believes that two of the most important activities that help bring happiness into your life is getting plenty of sleep and exercising on a daily basis. Here are her tips for incorporating exercise in your daily life.
11 tips for sticking to a schedule of regular exercise.

Exercise is a KEY to happiness. Research shows that people who exercise are healthier, more energetic, think more clearly, sleep better, and have delayed onset of dementia. They get relief from anxiety and mild depression, comparable to medication and therapy. They perform better at work.

Also, although it’s tempting to flop down on the couch when you’re feeling exhausted, exercise is actually a great way to boost energy levels. Feeling tired is a reason to exercise, not a reason to skip exercise.

But even when you admit that you’d feel better if you exercised, it can be very hard to adopt the habit. My idea of fun has always been to lie in bed, reading, preferably while also eating a snack – but I’ve managed to keep myself exercising by using all these tricks on myself:

1. Always exercise on Monday. This sets the psychological pattern for the week. Along the same lines…

2. If at all possible, exercise first thing in the morning. As the day wears on, you’ll find more excuses to skip exercising. Get it checked off your list, first thing.

3. Never skip exercising for two days in a row. You can skip a day, but the next day, you must exercise, no matter how inconvenient.

4. Give yourself credit for the smallest effort. My father always said that all he had to do was put on his running shoes and close the door behind him. Many times, by promising myself I could quit ten minues after I’d started, I got myself to start – and then found that I didn’t want to quit, after all.

5. Think about context. I thought I disliked weight-training, but in fact, I disliked the guys who hung out in the weight-training area. Are you distressed about the grubby showers in your gym? Do you try to run in the mornings, but recoil from going out in the cold? Examine the factors that might be discouraging you from exercising.

6. Exercise several times a week. If your idea of exercise is to join games of pick-up basketball, you should be playing practically every day. Twice a month isn’t enough.

7. If you don’t have time both to exercise and take a shower, find a way to exercise that doesn’t require you to shower afterward. Twice a week, I have a very challenging weight-training session, but the format I follow doesn’t make me sweat. (Some of you are saying, “It can’t be challenging if you don’t sweat!” Oh yes, believe me, it is.)

8. Look for affordable ways to make exercising more pleasant or satisfying. Could you upgrade to a nicer or more convenient gym? Buy yourself a new iPod? Work with a trainer? Get a pedometer to keep track of your walking distances? Exercise is a high life priority, so this a worthwhile place to spend some money if that helps.

9. Think of exercise as part of your essential preparation for times you want to be in especially fine form — whether in performance (to be sharp for an important presentation) or appearance (to look good for a wedding) or mood (to deal with a stressful situation). Studies show that exercise does help.

10. Remember one of my favorite Secrets of Adulthood, courtesy of Voltaire: Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good. Don’t decide it’s only worth exercising if you can run five miles or if you can bike for an hour. I have a friend who scorns exercise unless she’s training for a marathon — so she never exercises. Even going for a ten-minute walk is worthwhile. Do what you can.

11. Don’t kid yourself. Belonging to a gym doesn’t mean you go to the gym. Having been in shape in high school or college doesn’t mean you’re in shape now. Saying that you don’t have time to exercise doesn’t make it true.

My sister is a writer. I am surrounded by writers because of my career. I read obsessively and come from a family of voracious readers. I have entertained thoughts of being a writer. But then fear creeps in. Fear of failure grabs hold of the jugular and doesn’t let go. The minute you make the daring decision to become a writer, the pleasure of reading may become a little bit more of a pressure. You will find yourself critiquing other writers, looking for themes, recognizing pace and beats and timing. You will deconstruct everything you read.  What once before had been an enjoyable story will now become a practice test, something to be studied, understood and learned from.

If I ever write that great American novel (I would even settle for good American novel), I would want it to be honest and real, true to my heart and authentic. These are the qualities that make up great fiction. But the problem is, these are usually the subjects that sit close to your heart, in that unmarked spot that when visited can bring a person to tears. Do I want to bring all of these emotions that already sit too close to the surface out into my writing? If I don’t aren’t I cheating myself from creating the strongest and most compelling work that I am capable of writing? They say that most author’s debut work is strongly autobiographical. Am I ready to explore those topics that can bring me to my knees? Where does the strength come from that can allow an author to explore that part of themselves that is most fragile and vulnerable? Someday I will tap into my own inner well and let the words flow like water straight from my heart. For now, I will champion the works of others and continue living the journey that can someday be explored on the page.

Today, after waking up and having a bagel and cream cheese, I sat down at my desk and began searching around on various, insignificant, time-consuming websites. I happened to stumble upon Facebook, a website that I truly abhor but that occasionally peaks my interest when I see a new “friend” has joined or possibly added new photos. Typically, venturing into other people’s internet lives can lead to a depression of sorts. They always portray themselves in the most exciting situations, with the most glamorous of cohorts. They are in love, or laughing or having fun or tanned, and for some reason this both frustrates and depresses me, causing me to compare lives and success stories and futures. But today was different. Today I looked at my own profile (one I have scrolled through frequently, criticizing certain photos of myself, wishing others were better) but today I stopped on a particular picture. It was a photo of me and my five-year-old niece. She looked like an angel, perfect in every possible way, as she always does. But as I looked at myself in that photograph, something clicked. For the first time I think I really saw myself. I wasn’t forcing a smile that was too harsh or too fake. I wasn’t worried about the angle of my face or the possibility of too much chin or not enough eyes. I was just happy and content holding her close to me, protecting her. I don’t look like a girl trying to be younger, cooler, happier, better. I look like a woman, confident in herself and aware of the world around her. Aware of all the bad, horrible, unfortunate things, but also confident in the good that is out there too. The blessings, the wonders, the amazement, the memories that form every single day of our lives. I wasn’t trying to be someone I’m not, I was just me and it was perfect.

“What true patience is, is knowing that you want it and knowing that it’s coming and actually enjoying the unfolding along the way. Understand that you never get it done. So you might as well be patient. You never get it done, because every time you want and receive, you also receive a new perspective from which to want. Life is a constant unfolding of new desires and then a constant alignment to those desires.” –Abraham Hicks

I stumbled upon this website, Abraham Hicks, and was delighted to see that every single day it offers an inspirational quote or positive life affirmation. Sometimes I am really amazed by how consistent we can be when it comes to paying bills, going to work, making dinner, exercising, but when it comes to having patience and paying attention to our own inner monologue, we lose control. This world can certainly overwhelm us and whether we choose to thrive amidst the chaos or crumble, it is our decision. Maybe chaos is not something you can handle, maybe you need order, control, simplicity. Unfortunately, that is not something we ultimately can have control over. Life will throw us curve balls. It will push us to our knees and leave us feeling helpless. It is in the moments of utter chaos and loss that we must reach inside and find our strength. We need to have the patience to appreciate every moment as a gift, no matter how uncomfortable it may feel. It is only with our own strength, patience and grace that we can begin to understand the meaning of life and our own purpose.