..||.. September 12th

I dreamt last night that I had updated my weblog with something insightful and meaningful, and that Lloyd had commented on it. I don't, unfortunately, remember what insightful prose I crafted in my sleep, but I remember that Lloyd wrote very nice things about how happy he always is when I get around to writing insightful prose.

I think my weblogging conscience is catching up to me.

Yesterday, I had nothing to say. That's not true. I had something to say that was at least moderately insightful, but I don't remember what it was, so perhaps it was only faux-insightful. Everyone else I read and watch has already written wonderful and insightful prose about what it means to be five years removed from the most awful, aweful, terrible tragedy I've ever seen. And goodness knows, in the days leading up to September 11th, 2006, every branch of mainstream media (and, I'd wager, every branch of alternative media) has spent far too much energy trying to tell me what I should think about it.

I've been avoiding the media at every turn this week. Last night, we watched Antiques Roadshow, and then I switched to Jewelry Television so that I could avoid watching our Illustrious Leader, whose smug mug was broadcast on every other channel we receive on our super-basic cable. I remember, okay? I do. Really. I'm not going to forget what happened on September 11, 2006.

Also? I'm so tired of people calling it "9-11." "Nine-eleven." I think people abbreviate it because it helps them objectify it and extract themselves from the horror of what happened that day. To me, it just seems glib.

I get, though, that we're all dealing with this in our own way, and that my avoidant way is no better than the way of the people who watched all the docudramas that Hollywood could churn out. And I'm balancing a healthy bit of guilt for the fact that I'm deliriously happy at the moment, enjoying married life with my sweet, funny, snuggly husband immensely.

We're waiting on the plodding bureaucracy of the Department of Homeland Security (the irony of which has not escaped me) to issue my snuggly husband's green card so that he can find gainful employment (and save us from an indefinite future as a single-income household). Waiting is infinitely easier this time than it was when we were waiting for his visa. We're together now, at least, and money is just... money.

If there's anything that September 11th taught me, it's that life is short and uncertain. Being together and deliriously happy is as much as I can ask for.