As I said in my last post (which you will read after this if you're going in order of the page and not chronological order), the events of September 11th didn't really sink in for me until I drove over the Whitestone Bridge yesterday and saw -- for the first time in my entire life -- a New York skyline without the Twin Towers. But even then, the enormity of the entire situation didn't really hit me. It took being back in the city, realizing the essence of New York and the extent to which morale has been hit to fully comprehend what the September 11th attacks mean to New York. And unfortunately, I don't think that the rest of the nation realizes it either.

To begin with a little background, I don't think you really can understand New York unless you live there or unless you visit. The city itself is intoxicating. Its vibrancy, its fast pace of life and busyness, its throbbing and pulsing heart affect you in countless ways and unconsciously, you begin to subscribe to the notion that New York is the greatest place on Earth. Be it through Broadway shows, or the fact that the nation welcomes the new year in Times Square, or countless numbers of well-known media outlets and huge businesses and names who call New York home, or the instantly recognizable skyscrapers, or the fact that at 4AM you can still find any type of food or entertainment you crave, New York makes you believe that it truly is the Center of the Known Universe.

New Yorkers are exposed to this 24/7, and it's manifested through an incredible sense of love and pride for their city, in addition to a feeling on invincibility. In Denis Leary's "No Cure For Cancer" standup special, he fancies an argument between two people in which one person says, "I fought in Vietnam!" The other replies with, "So what? I live in New York!" The first says in an incredulous tone of voice, "Really?" It is with this sense of "we're living on our own terms -- dammit, we're New Yorkers!" kind of feeling that the city awoke on September 11th. And within a few hours of daybreak, that feeling of invincibility was utterly and thoroughly shattered. Not only was the city hit in the heart of its recognizable features by taking out two of the structures that are so closely associated with New York, but also by killing so many people -- and I guarantee you, every single person in the New York metro area knows someone who either was in the Twin Towers when they were hit or died in the collapse, or they know someone who knows someone who was/did.

New York is wounded. Its bleeding is expressed through the tears of the survivors, through the anger flowing from so many mouths, through the nightmares and fears of those who were lucky enough to either survive the impact or not be in the vicinity of the World Trade Center on September 11. The hole in the hearts of New Yorkers is physically represented by the hole in the skyline, their fiery need for answers and accountability by the debris and the acrid smell still permeating lower Manhattan.

Being back in New York this weekend, I was proud to be able to feel ties to the city, having been born there and also having been raised by two native New Yorkers, so my visits to the city were fairly frequent when I was younger. Driving into New York, I once again experienced that feeling that New York is the greatest place on Earth. Looking around, I understood what it felt like to be wounded -- perhaps not physically, but definitely spiritually -- by the terrorist attacks. And I comprehend their firm defiance in the face of this, New York's sharp and resolute reply that this will not stand, it will not happen again -- not on their watch. Their pride in their city will keep them going.

New Yorkers, I offer you my support -- and respect.

So. I have made my triumphant return to Boston. Triumphant it is, not because I can say that like Yoda, but because (1) I didn't kill anyone despite the fact that I had some urges to do so, and (2) I actually managed to pull off the wedding and the concert, and (3) I finally got meet Michele, who is cool as all hell and who I could've talked to for hours had I not had the wedding to go to.

So the Heaven & Hell part. Let's start with the niceties, shall we? Heaven was bombing down the Mass Pike on a gorgeous Friday afternoon with all the windows down and the roof open (and yes, there can be quite the wind tunnel effect at 80 mph) while WBCN blasted "Where The Streets Have No Name" through my radio, and again while bombing into New York City while K-Rock thundered "Chop Suey" through my speakers. High volumes and thumping bass doesn't have much of an effect at 80 mph when all your windows and the roof are open, but it makes for an incredible emotional response that almost made me lean my head out and yell, "I'm the King of the World!" But I was afraid of other drivers hearing me and yelling "shut up!" back at me as invariably happens in various sitcoms. So I just stuck to singing along at high volume.

Hell came about 2 1/2 hours later as I crossed the Whitestone Bridge from the Bronx into Queens. While I kind of wish that I'd had time to visit Ground Zero, it hit me for the first time as I drove over the bridge -- I have never known a New York skyline without the Twin Towers, and the enormity of what happened on September 11th finally came crashing down on me. It's very hard to negotiate a narrow, heavily-trafficked bridge during the beginning of rush hour with tears streaming down your face.

There's more to that part, but we'll get back to that in a minute. As far as the rest of the weekend goes, no matter how much I say I can take it, it's still a little uncomfortable for me to sit with my uncle over dinner and have him tell me stories of all the "bad" things my dad has done over the years. And quite frankly, his new stepsons really were schmucks. I was originally supposed to spend the night at a friend of my uncle's, but the friend has cats and I'm allergic to cats, so my uncle said, "Fine, we'll throw another bed in the hotel room where Grace's [his fiancee] sons are staying." Grace's sons didn't like that too much -- they said they did not want to spend the night in a hotel room with a stranger. I was really put off by that -- first of all, one is a college student and has already spent a few years living with a stranger; second of all, it's not like I'm a bum off the street that might kill them in their sleep -- I'm their future relative and if I do kill them in their sleep, their mom will know where to find me. So I ended up in the hotel room by myself, which I didn't mind at all, and her sons didn't say more than three words to me during the entire wedding and reception. To add to that, I didn't know anyone at the reception besides my uncle and his new wife, and I probably dropped the average age in the room by at least 20 years. They, of course, were all old chums and of similar loud dispositions as my uncle. Suffice to say, I had no qualms about leaving.

I bailed on the reception a little early and raced back to Boston for my old college a cappella group's Parents' Weekend concert -- a chance to see my friends that I used to sing with again as well as see what this year's incarnation of the group sounded like. Their performance, as always, was great. And because my friends all asked for this website address when I told them of its launch, I'm required to say that, as always, I enjoyed catching up with them. (No, really, I did and always do. But since I'm the duly designated whipping boy and butt-of-jokes man for the group, I'll take every chance I can to skewer them a little. Fair's fair. Ooh, another cliche for the list!... that's an inside joke.)

It's been a long two days, though it seems much longer. And I still have to finish a few things before bed. I was very appreciative that my roommate took excellent care of Mylo and even let him run around the apartment in my absence. It's these kinds of things that make me very thankful that I have a considerate roommate like him, and make me think that I really deserve a good boot to the head for bitching about him last week. Besides, I'm sure I'm not perfect either -- well, I'm mostly perfect, but not entirely.

So. I have made my triumphant return to Boston. Triumphant it is, not because I can say that like Yoda, but because (1) I didn't kill anyone despite the fact that I had some urges to do so, and (2) I actually managed to pull off the wedding and the concert, and (3) I finally got meet Michele, who is cool as all hell and who I could've talked to for hours had I not had the wedding to go to.

So the Heaven & Hell part. Let's start with the niceties, shall we? Heaven was bombing down the Mass Pike on a gorgeous Friday afternoon with all the windows down and the roof open (and yes, there can be quite the wind tunnel effect at 80 mph) while WBCN blasted "Where The Streets Have No Name" through my radio, and again while bombing into New York City while K-Rock thundered "Chop Suey" through my speakers. High volumes and thumping bass doesn't have much of an effect at 80 mph when all your windows and the roof are open, but it makes for an incredible emotional response that almost made me lean my head out and yell, "I'm the King of the World!" But I was afraid of other drivers hearing me and yelling "shut up!" back at me as invariably happens in various sitcoms. So I just stuck to singing along at high volume.

Hell came about 2 1/2 hours later as I crossed the Whitestone Bridge from the Bronx into Queens. While I kind of wish that I'd had time to visit Ground Zero, it hit me for the first time as I drove over the bridge -- I have never known a New York skyline without the Twin Towers, and the enormity of what happened on September 11th finally came crashing down on me. It's very hard to negotiate a narrow, heavily-trafficked bridge during the beginning of rush hour with tears streaming down your face.

There's more to that part, but we'll get back to that in a minute. As far as the rest of the weekend goes, no matter how much I say I can take it, it's still a little uncomfortable for me to sit with my uncle over dinner and have him tell me stories of all the "bad" things my dad has done over the years. And quite frankly, his new stepsons really were schmucks. I was originally supposed to spend the night at a friend of my uncle's, but the friend has cats and I'm allergic to cats, so my uncle said, "Fine, we'll throw another bed in the hotel room where Grace's [his fiancee] sons are staying." Grace's sons didn't like that too much -- they said they did not want to spend the night in a hotel room with a stranger. I was really put off by that -- first of all, one is a college student and has already spent a few years living with a stranger; second of all, it's not like I'm a bum off the street that might kill them in their sleep -- I'm their future relative and if I do kill them in their sleep, their mom will know where to find me. So I ended up in the hotel room by myself, which I didn't mind at all, and her sons didn't say more than three words to me during the entire wedding and reception. To add to that, I didn't know anyone at the reception besides my uncle and his new wife, and I probably dropped the average age in the room by at least 20 years. They, of course, were all old chums and of similar loud dispositions as my uncle. Suffice to say, I had no qualms about leaving.

I bailed on the reception a little early and raced back to Boston for my old college a cappella group's Parents' Weekend concert -- a chance to see my friends that I used to sing with again as well as see what this year's incarnation of the group sounded like. Their performance, as always, was great. And because my friends all asked for this website address when I told them of its launch, I'm required to say that, as always, I enjoyed catching up with them. (No, really, I did and always do. But since I'm the duly designated whipping boy and butt-of-jokes man for the group, I'll take every chance I can to skewer them a little. Fair's fair. Ooh, another cliche for the list!... that's an inside joke.)

It's been a long two days, though it seems much longer. And I still have to finish a few things before bed. I was very appreciative that my roommate took excellent care of Mylo and even let him run around the apartment in my absence. It's these kinds of things that make me very thankful that I have a considerate roommate like him, and make me think that I really deserve a good boot to the head for bitching about him last week. Besides, I'm sure I'm not perfect either -- well, I'm mostly perfect, but not entirely.

This will be a surgical strike visit, as I am really not in the mood for this sort of thing right now or to deal with my uncle. The only highlight of this trip will be breakfast with Michele, which I will hopefully be able to pull off unless my uncle is starving for attention and needs to be the focus of everyone's life as he often is.

So if you happen to be on the Mass Pike, I-84, I-91, I-95 or the Van Wyck Expressway at some point today, and you see a small blue Honda Civic with Massachusetts plates scream by you with an annoyed-looking twenty-something at the wheel blasting music... well, that'd be me.

I'll be back late tomorrow night. Peace and lack of terrorist strikes be unto you, my brothers & sisters.

This will be a surgical strike visit, as I am really not in the mood for this sort of thing right now or to deal with my uncle. The only highlight of this trip will be breakfast with Michele, which I will hopefully be able to pull off unless my uncle is starving for attention and needs to be the focus of everyone's life as he often is.

So if you happen to be on the Mass Pike, I-84, I-91, I-95 or the Van Wyck Expressway at some point today, and you see a small blue Honda Civic with Massachusetts plates scream by you with an annoyed-looking twenty-something at the wheel blasting music... well, that'd be me.

I'll be back late tomorrow night. Peace and lack of terrorist strikes be unto you, my brothers & sisters.

The bottom line of the matter is, she was being spoiled and lazy.

When I went down to do my laundry last night, most of the machines were in use. Thankfully, someone advised me she was putting her clothes in the dryers so I could have her washers. I expressed the appropriate amount of gratefulness, waited until she was done unloading and then started my wash.

So 35 minutes later, when I came downstairs to switch my clothes to the dryers, I found only 2 dryers empty. I needed 3. About half of the dryers were just sitting there having run their course but the people hadn't come down to retrieve their clothes. So I said, "Screw 'em, it's their own fault and I need the damn machine," and proceeded to remove someone's dry clothes from the dryer and put them on the folding counter.

Again, 35 minutes later I came down to retrieve my laundry. I was a minute or two early, so I hung back and watched the dryers and the other people in the room. I noticed a woman standing in front of the dryers I was using, so I figured I'd go in quick once my load was done in case she was looking to pull my clothes out and use my dryers (although there were plenty of other stopped machines she could've used). So imagine my surprise when my machine stopped, I started taking my clothes out, and she started asking me what on Earth possessed me to be so rude as to take her clothes out of the dryer? I looked at her and said, "Well, your load was done, I needed the machine because there were none left, you weren't here, too bad. You want to talk about rudeness? Rudeness is not coming down to get your clothes once they're done." I continued taking my clothes out of the dryers, thinking there's no way she'd continue.

But, of course, I'm a magnet for idiots and spoiled brats, so continue she did. How could I have been so rude and inconsiderate? What's my problem? Couldn't I have waited for her to come down? I finally snapped -- not entirely because she was pissing me off with her little self-righteous tirade, but also because she had the gall to wait around for me to come get my clothes and tell me off.

It's been a long while since I've told someone to fuck off, but I hurled it at her as I pointed to the sign posted on the side of the room and said, "Look, lady, it says 'clothes left at own risk.' You left your clothes, you didn't come and get them, and I needed the machine. If you didn't want me to take your clothes out, you should've been here 40 minutes ago when your load was done and just sitting there in the dryer." I packed up my clothes and stormed out.

All places, shapes and sizes, people... the lunatics come in all places, shapes and sizes.

The bottom line of the matter is, she was being spoiled and lazy.

When I went down to do my laundry last night, most of the machines were in use. Thankfully, someone advised me she was putting her clothes in the dryers so I could have her washers. I expressed the appropriate amount of gratefulness, waited until she was done unloading and then started my wash.

So 35 minutes later, when I came downstairs to switch my clothes to the dryers, I found only 2 dryers empty. I needed 3. About half of the dryers were just sitting there having run their course but the people hadn't come down to retrieve their clothes. So I said, "Screw 'em, it's their own fault and I need the damn machine," and proceeded to remove someone's dry clothes from the dryer and put them on the folding counter.

Again, 35 minutes later I came down to retrieve my laundry. I was a minute or two early, so I hung back and watched the dryers and the other people in the room. I noticed a woman standing in front of the dryers I was using, so I figured I'd go in quick once my load was done in case she was looking to pull my clothes out and use my dryers (although there were plenty of other stopped machines she could've used). So imagine my surprise when my machine stopped, I started taking my clothes out, and she started asking me what on Earth possessed me to be so rude as to take her clothes out of the dryer? I looked at her and said, "Well, your load was done, I needed the machine because there were none left, you weren't here, too bad. You want to talk about rudeness? Rudeness is not coming down to get your clothes once they're done." I continued taking my clothes out of the dryers, thinking there's no way she'd continue.

But, of course, I'm a magnet for idiots and spoiled brats, so continue she did. How could I have been so rude and inconsiderate? What's my problem? Couldn't I have waited for her to come down? I finally snapped -- not entirely because she was pissing me off with her little self-righteous tirade, but also because she had the gall to wait around for me to come get my clothes and tell me off.

It's been a long while since I've told someone to fuck off, but I hurled it at her as I pointed to the sign posted on the side of the room and said, "Look, lady, it says 'clothes left at own risk.' You left your clothes, you didn't come and get them, and I needed the machine. If you didn't want me to take your clothes out, you should've been here 40 minutes ago when your load was done and just sitting there in the dryer." I packed up my clothes and stormed out.

All places, shapes and sizes, people... the lunatics come in all places, shapes and sizes.

I had a full entry typed out. All set and ready to go. Then the machine locked up. I lost it all. And I'm completely not in the mood to retype it. I'm sorry. I'll try to get something up tomorrow morning before I leave.

I had a full entry typed out. All set and ready to go. Then the machine locked up. I lost it all. And I'm completely not in the mood to retype it. I'm sorry. I'll try to get something up tomorrow morning before I leave.

Okay. So you're the manager of the Arizona Diamondbacks. Your relief pitcher blew a lead the previous night, costing you the game. It's the 9th inning and you're leading 2-0. Do you put the same relief pitcher in?

Answer: Yes, if you're the dumbass Bob Brenly. Arizona had a clear shot at winning, and Kim (the relief pitcher) blew it. AGAIN.

There's a nice saying... "fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me and send me down to the minors."

Okay. So you're the manager of the Arizona Diamondbacks. Your relief pitcher blew a lead the previous night, costing you the game. It's the 9th inning and you're leading 2-0. Do you put the same relief pitcher in?

Answer: Yes, if you're the dumbass Bob Brenly. Arizona had a clear shot at winning, and Kim (the relief pitcher) blew it. AGAIN.

There's a nice saying... "fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me and send me down to the minors."

So I'm heading down to Long Island tomorrow for my uncle's wedding on Saturday. Jay (my uncle) knows that I am unemployed and running short on cash, so he specifically told me I shouldn't bring a present. But I figured that I should at least get a card, something to say "thanks for inviting me" and all. So among my errands this afternoon, I stopped by a Walgreens to pick up an appropriate card.

The problem was that there were no appropriate cards. Apparently Hallmark has been purchased by the Catholic Church, because every single damn wedding card they had in stock mentioned God in some way. "May God smile on your love." "May God bless your sacred union." "Celebrate your love in the light of God." I wasn't looking for a sermon, I was looking for a simple card that said something along the lines of "congratulations on your wedding" and that's all.

As a result, I think I'm going to start my own greeting card company: Cards for Atheists. Our cards will have a rather fun, irreverent attitude towards events, but it's still a card so people receiving it will know that the cardgiver's heart is in the right place. I came up with a few samples on my drive home:
Wedding: Congratulations on your marriage! Where're the little hot dogs at?
New child: Congratulations on your little bundle of joy! In celebration, we're gonna go out, get drunk and play ping-pong!
Bar Mitzvah: So, you've had your bar mitzvah and you're a man now! Party hardy with the Manischewitz!

So I'm heading down to Long Island tomorrow for my uncle's wedding on Saturday. Jay (my uncle) knows that I am unemployed and running short on cash, so he specifically told me I shouldn't bring a present. But I figured that I should at least get a card, something to say "thanks for inviting me" and all. So among my errands this afternoon, I stopped by a Walgreens to pick up an appropriate card.

The problem was that there were no appropriate cards. Apparently Hallmark has been purchased by the Catholic Church, because every single damn wedding card they had in stock mentioned God in some way. "May God smile on your love." "May God bless your sacred union." "Celebrate your love in the light of God." I wasn't looking for a sermon, I was looking for a simple card that said something along the lines of "congratulations on your wedding" and that's all.

As a result, I think I'm going to start my own greeting card company: Cards for Atheists. Our cards will have a rather fun, irreverent attitude towards events, but it's still a card so people receiving it will know that the cardgiver's heart is in the right place. I came up with a few samples on my drive home:
Wedding: Congratulations on your marriage! Where're the little hot dogs at?
New child: Congratulations on your little bundle of joy! In celebration, we're gonna go out, get drunk and play ping-pong!
Bar Mitzvah: So, you've had your bar mitzvah and you're a man now! Party hardy with the Manischewitz!

As an incoming freshman to college, I was used to taking "have-to" classes -- meaning that even though we were given a choice of what classes to take, there really wasn't that much of a choice because we were all required to take a science, math, English and social studies course, as well as a phys ed course and an elective (mine was French). So basically, "selecting" my courses in high school was just an exercise that prepared me for owning a Franklin Planner later in life. When I got to college, it was a completely different story. People joke about taking "Underwater Basket Weaving," but the requirements are so loose in terms of how many courses you're required to take and when you have to take them, that if your college offered it, you could take the beginner, intermediate and advanced levels of "Underwater Basket Weaving," which is sometimes also known as "Philosophy."

Brandeis has a really good Orientation program for freshmen, which includes dividing up all the new students into groups of about a dozen and assigning an upperclassman to help them adjust to college life and act as a student advisor. So when I was locked out of Intro to Psych, which at that point I wanted to take purely out of interest, my student advisor recommended that I take Intro to Economics. Well, it sounded like a decent class to take, everyone needs to know the basics, right? Well, there are actually two things that I learned from Econ:

1. Embrace the curve. I had never been graded on a curve before, and I have to admit that I probably started making preparations for hari-kari when I got back my first college midterm ever and found I had scored a 65 on it. I mean, how do you expect to Mom & Dad that you've only been there a month and you're already flunking out? So I was thankful to all the appropriate gods and heavenly spirits when the professor started putting scores up on the board and I found my 65 translated to a B+.

2. TaNSTAAFL. Translated into English, it means "there's no such thing as a free lunch." And for some reason, that expression has stuck with me for 7 years now. My Econ professor spent the better part of a week hammering this into our heads -- if you think you're getting something for free, you're not and sooner or later, you'll pay up in some way.

The nice little story quilt that I've just woven does have a relevant point, and that is "The End of Free." The End of Free is basically a website that chronicles and discusses the slow evolution of the Web from a relatively free environment, where services and programs are readily available without cost, to a venue where everything requires some payment. As Heath Row describes it, it's "the journey from free to fee and beyond." Heath also notes that Blogger's own Evan Williams is involved in the project. Could this be a signal that the free services of Blogger may be moving to a fee-based system?

As an incoming freshman to college, I was used to taking "have-to" classes -- meaning that even though we were given a choice of what classes to take, there really wasn't that much of a choice because we were all required to take a science, math, English and social studies course, as well as a phys ed course and an elective (mine was French). So basically, "selecting" my courses in high school was just an exercise that prepared me for owning a Franklin Planner later in life. When I got to college, it was a completely different story. People joke about taking "Underwater Basket Weaving," but the requirements are so loose in terms of how many courses you're required to take and when you have to take them, that if your college offered it, you could take the beginner, intermediate and advanced levels of "Underwater Basket Weaving," which is sometimes also known as "Philosophy."

Brandeis has a really good Orientation program for freshmen, which includes dividing up all the new students into groups of about a dozen and assigning an upperclassman to help them adjust to college life and act as a student advisor. So when I was locked out of Intro to Psych, which at that point I wanted to take purely out of interest, my student advisor recommended that I take Intro to Economics. Well, it sounded like a decent class to take, everyone needs to know the basics, right? Well, there are actually two things that I learned from Econ:

1. Embrace the curve. I had never been graded on a curve before, and I have to admit that I probably started making preparations for hari-kari when I got back my first college midterm ever and found I had scored a 65 on it. I mean, how do you expect to Mom & Dad that you've only been there a month and you're already flunking out? So I was thankful to all the appropriate gods and heavenly spirits when the professor started putting scores up on the board and I found my 65 translated to a B+.

2. TaNSTAAFL. Translated into English, it means "there's no such thing as a free lunch." And for some reason, that expression has stuck with me for 7 years now. My Econ professor spent the better part of a week hammering this into our heads -- if you think you're getting something for free, you're not and sooner or later, you'll pay up in some way.

The nice little story quilt that I've just woven does have a relevant point, and that is "The End of Free." The End of Free is basically a website that chronicles and discusses the slow evolution of the Web from a relatively free environment, where services and programs are readily available without cost, to a venue where everything requires some payment. As Heath Row describes it, it's "the journey from free to fee and beyond." Heath also notes that Blogger's own Evan Williams is involved in the project. Could this be a signal that the free services of Blogger may be moving to a fee-based system?