Gratitude.

You know me. I'm usually a little overzealous and all-politics-all-the-time. But I can't be that way, today. Today, it can't be about use and abuse of references to 9/11 for political gain. Today, it can't be about my distaste for those who fail to see the brotherhood of the major Abrahamic religions. Today, it can't be academic.

10 years ago today was one of the worst days in American history. Thousands of people lost their lives, their livelihoods, their families, their loved ones, their homes, their spirits. Fortunately I have to work all day and therefore will not even have the chance to be bombarded with images and videos and sounds all over the news.

It's weird because 10 years ago today I was 13 years old. I was getting ready for like, week two of 8th grade. My life was not about politics or religion or activism just yet. My life was about walking to the bus stop and laughing my way to middle school with my best friends.

My parents are not news watchers. Never have been. That morning, a friend of my mom's called and said to turn on the tv. I was sitting at the table eating breakfast before getting ready for school. I have this memory of seeing the second plane hit. But I also don't remember knowing what it meant or what was happening. My mom sent me to school, and I told all my friends at the bus stop what had happened. We didn't know what it meant. A woman jogged by our bus stop and called out "Jesus Loves You!" to us as we waited. We didn't know why.

We didn't know about terrorism. We didn't know about radical Islam. We didn't know about radical Christianity, really, either. We didn't know what this meant.

I remember getting to my first period history class and watching the news for the whole period. I don't remember if we did anything in any of my classes that day. I recall watching the news.

AMERICA UNDER ATTACK, it said on every station.

Still, we didn't know what it meant.

I remember watching President George W. Bush speak to us. I remember, over the course of the days following 9/11 that words like "terror" and "axis of evil" and "weapons of mass destruction" flowed out of his mouth and into our living rooms. I remember being told that this was not a war on Islam and would never be a war on Islam. I still don't know what that meant.

What I am going to say today instead of anything about the GOP or about Islamophobia or about blame and conspiracy and all of the stuff that comes up when we talk about 9/11, is that today will always remind me to be grateful.

I am grateful, today, that nobodyI love has been taken from me in an act of terrorism, domestic or international. This may seem like something rather specific to be grateful for, but there are thousands of people in this country who cannot say the same. And I am thinking of them, today.

I am thinking of them and I am thinking of every member of my family and those friends of mine that are my family and how it would be the worst thing that could ever happen to me to lose even a single one of them. To lose you.

Today is not about waving American flags or holding rallies or even about preaching a certain way. For me, today is about falling to my knees in tears, thanking my God that my family is whole. That my heart is whole.

Today I will pray for everyone who lost anyone or anything in any act of terrorism anywhere in the world. And I will never stop praying. And I will never stop being grateful.

Nick left.

Today, the dearest friend I've had for the longest in my life had his first day of graduate school at Purdue. He's pursuing a PhD in Math, and is absolutely the smartest person I know. That being said, he also makes some of the most ridiculous lifestyle choices of anyone I know. But I suppose geniuses are always a bit wacky.

Nick and I met in 7th grade English. We sat near each other a bit by accident. He talked to me because my cute friend Jillian sat on the other side of me and he obviously wanted to talk to her. I think that fits Nick well. Anyway, in the process of trying to date Jillian (which he never managed to do), Nick somehow became my best friend. He's a good kid.

We had a lot of stupid stuff happen in our lives -- I mean, it was our teenage years, of course it was stupid -- but we stuck together. He introduced me to his old friend Thomas, who you may have heard a bit about from me before. The three of us went on to high school together, and they actually ended up going to college together. When I talk about my dear boys, these two are central to that.

Anyway, because Nick and Thomas went to college near home, they were here every time any of us came back to visit. Well, except winter quarter when they were always away at Ultimate Frisbee tournaments. Not a joke.

This is the first time Nick has left home. He has the experience of our high school life being long over, but he does not have the experience of Encinitas being out of reach. Two years ago (I think? Holy cow.) Nick's parents moved to New York. When I come home for Thanksgiving, he won't be here. When I come home for Christmas, he'll be here for a bit, but he'll be with his parents for a lot of that time. This is new for us. This is new for me.

I had a rough time saying goodbye to him on Friday night. We had a huge party and had a lot of drinks and laughs and our usual dumb stuff. It was a perfect send-off, in my opinion. But I was really floored by how heartbroken I was as I drove home. My Nick. My Nickysweetie-honey-sugar-baby-darling. (I started calling him "Nickysweetie" in high school, which he hated, so I, of course, just kept adding on.)

I think I was in such denial that this was really happening, or that this was really that big of a change, that I wasn't letting myself slowly get used to it. It hit me like a ton of bricks as I hugged him goodbye for the first real goodbye in five years. When I said goodbye to him before I went to college, I was so weirdly emotional about Fletcher and Thomas, mostly, and our whole group never being the same [blah blah blah] that I didn't really give Nick the credit for being the great kid he is. He was always going to be in Encinitas, I probably told myself. Now, that's not a consolation I can offer myself.

Is this going to feel like going away to college all over again? He posted a facebook status this afternoon about surviving his first day, and that "grad school is kind of dope." Spoken like a true doctoral candidate. But I admit, when I saw that, I was gleeful. Like he's playing nice with the other kids? He's 23 years old. I've concocted this image of him there, knockin' 'em dead with his California vocabulary and extreme math brain and athletic shorts for all occasions and three frisbees in his backpack. I'm a basket case.

I guess I just get upset every time I get settled in a new way of life and then someone else makes a change. I just got used to this Berkeley back-and-forth, and now Nick had to up and move across the country? How dare he follow his dreams!

Today, in traffic, a car cut me off and I was shaking my head in disgust, when I noticed they had a Purdue license plate. I smiled and said, "Hey, Nick." out loud like a big freak. I guess that was my cue to breathe and just keep on.

See you at Christmas, Nickysweetie!

Mixtape Blitz

Okay so obviously I mean mix CDs not mixtapes, because it's (unfortunately) not 1997 anymore. Mixtape sounded better as a title. Why am I explaining this?

A few days ago my car iPhone connecter player thing stopped charging my iPhone while it plays music. This is a totally dumb development because it totally drains the battery and then I can't spend all day checking Twitter. So I decided to go super old school (besides the ultimate old school that is the radio) and play some old mix CDs I happen to still have in my 500 CD case thing I keep in my car JUST IN CASE! I am a big loser. The magic of this, though, is that most of the mixes in this case don't have any important details on them. Like, what's on them. Or when I made them. Some of them say "that mix I made for ____" and some of those have a date on them. One says "Casey and Jenn's Driving Mix" -- WHICH IS FULL OF GEMS, LET ME TELL YOU -- from the summer after 10th grade when Jenny got her license. One is a mix we made as a project in 10th grade English, where we had to make the soundtrack of if the book we read became a movie. Our group's book? Kafka's Metamorphosis. The tunes we chose are seriously priceless. Some of it's serious, like there's some Explosions in the Sky, some Clint Mansell. Then there's some BSB, some Linkin Park, some Britney. No jokes, you guys. Jake and Andy and I were probably the best 10th graders of all time. At least, I think we were. [Jill, please remind Jake of this incredible project, if you get a chance.]

Because I got so much joy out of these listening experiences, I'd like to walk you through some of the best discoveries. Some of them are silly, some of them are heartfelt. As usual, I suppose.

Classic. Fletcher, you'd better be doing hand motions right now.

Maybe I shouldn't have called. Was it too soon to tell? What the hell, it doesn't really matter. How do you redefine something that never really had a name? Has your opinion changed?

One of the CDs is like half of Jay-Z's Black Album with some other songs Jonathan and I loved thrown in. It is clearly a mix from when he and I went to Lou's on Saturday afternoons and picked out a CD we thought each other would like. [The first one he chose for me was Justin Timberlake's Justified. Genius.] What a weird tradition that was, but also totally rad.

I try to jump away from rot that keeps on spreading, for solace in the shift of the sinking sand. I'd rather feel the pain all too familiar than be broken by a lover I don't understand.

This was on our Metamorphosis project. Brilliant.

It's okay if you had to go away. Just remember that telephones, well, they work in both ways. But if I never, ever hear them ring, if nothing else, I'll think the bells inside it finally found your "someone else." And that's okay. 'Cause I'll remember everything you sang.

This might be Britney's worst song. Let me know if you think there's a worse one.

I was reading a book, or maybe it was a magazine. Suggestions on where to place faith; suggestions on what to believe. But I read somewhere that you've got to beware -- you can't believe everything you read. But the Good Book is good, and that's well understood, so don't even question, if you know what I mean.