Well, it's the third anniversary since that terrible world changing event occured. I know I shouldn't dwell on the past, but on some days I do--and on this day I think we all can--people who lost somebody, and people who didn't in the 9-11 incident.

I had no idea what the World Trade Centers were in 2001. To me, everything that involved New York or Washington D.C. I was oblivious to. The White House wasn't important; everything in California was. I was young and, I admit, immature at some points. When Kelly woke me up and exclaimed that the World Trade Centers were on fire, I was groggy. Turning over, I complained that I didn't care, but to me fire sounded cool still. The TV was on in the living room and I went out there clad in pajamas only. And there I watched how one tower had smoke literally billowing from the top--and then, a bit horrified, I must admit, watched as the other plane went flying straight into the other tower. It was there I realized that this wasn't some early April Fool's joke--it was real, it was live, and the newscasters had no choice but to comment on it. They were also horrified. It wasn't down on paper for them to read--they had to comment on it live.

For California it was 5:46 when the first plane hit the north tower of the World Trade Center and 6:03 when the second plane hit the south tower. For New York, it was 8:46 and 9:03. But, for all of us, it seemed so real and so upsetting that time didn't really matter anymore--it was like it was happening in California, and I remember that I was so emotionally impacted by the events I had witnessed.

I remember that day--that day was the first day in the nation that all flights were cancelled, regardless if they were in the air. They had to land the planes. And all amusement parks were shut down. I think that day I actually missed the sound of planes flying over my house to get to the airport.

Flight 77 deported from the Dulles International Airport near Washington D.C. at 8:14 Eastern Time--I was there in July. It was en route to Los Angeles, and it was carrying 64 people. Then at 9:37 it bombed a portion of the Pentagon, right where I was under when riding the metro in Washington D.C. Then, at 10:10, that portion collapsed. It was 7:10 Western Time, and I was still emotionally shocked--I didn't want to go to school that day, I just wanted to watch all this unwravel in front of my eyes--all this was happening at the same time, regardless of time differences--what happened at those exact moments happened in California. There wasn't three hours seperating California from New York anymore. Just a wide, sweeping nation viewing what was happening.

But, what I think I remember more is the collapse of the south tower at 9:59 Eastern Time. I just...I was in complete shock. How could this happen? I was thinking, is this just a bad dream? I saw people jumping from both of the towers and that tragic event just shook me up. Some people wanted to die so badly that they jumped--plummeted--to their death instead of waiting for the flames to engulf them or the tower to fall on them. Then at 10:28, the north tower collapsed. And I was still in shock.

What was most impacteful to me was Flight 93 and how the passengers aboard worked together to try to bring the plane down because it was headed toward the State Capitol. But, I think the most heroic person on this flight, was a husband who called home to his wife, saying that terriosts have taken over the plane, and that he, and others, were going to do something about it. I just liked how he had said that--his final talk with his wife. To me, everyone aboard Flight 93 who tried to take down the terroists are heroes to me. Their time was 10:03 Eastern--7:03 Western.

I think, near the end of the day, I was exhausted emotionally, physically (it was, like, the second week or something of me starting 7th grade....I had to be physically exhausted), and mentally. I needed some cheering up, something to tell me that everything will be okay and this whold incident is under control or just a bad dream I dreamed very vividly (don't care if it's spelled wrong.) I think President Bush's speech sort of gave me, and the rest of the country, insperation. One quote I insintially look to is this one: "These acts shattered steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve."

In other hand, a poem I have composed last year to honor the deaths of the people involved in the event (not counting the terroists):

A tragic day, with tragic loss.

Fields of crosses lay, for those who's lives were taken with terrible cost.

Gold outline of heart, strong and brave for thier lost one,

not wanting to be apart, but goes on living, trying to have fun.

Pray with me now for the souls of 9-11.

A moment of silence with heads bowed and pray with me that these souls are safe in heaven.

Well, it's the third anniversary since that terrible world changing event occured. I know I shouldn't dwell on the past, but on some days I do--and on this day I think we all can--people who lost somebody, and people who didn't in the 9-11 incident.

I had no idea what the World Trade Centers were in 2001. To me, everything that involved New York or Washington D.C. I was oblivious to. The White House wasn't important; everything in California was. I was young and, I admit, immature at some points. When Kelly woke me up and exclaimed that the World Trade Centers were on fire, I was groggy. Turning over, I complained that I didn't care, but to me fire sounded cool still. The TV was on in the living room and I went out there clad in pajamas only. And there I watched how one tower had smoke literally billowing from the top--and then, a bit horrified, I must admit, watched as the other plane went flying straight into the other tower. It was there I realized that this wasn't some early April Fool's joke--it was real, it was live, and the newscasters had no choice but to comment on it. They were also horrified. It wasn't down on paper for them to read--they had to comment on it live.

For California it was 5:46 when the first plane hit the north tower of the World Trade Center and 6:03 when the second plane hit the south tower. For New York, it was 8:46 and 9:03. But, for all of us, it seemed so real and so upsetting that time didn't really matter anymore--it was like it was happening in California, and I remember that I was so emotionally impacted by the events I had witnessed.

I remember that day--that day was the first day in the nation that all flights were cancelled, regardless if they were in the air. They had to land the planes. And all amusement parks were shut down. I think that day I actually missed the sound of planes flying over my house to get to the airport.

Flight 77 deported from the Dulles International Airport near Washington D.C. at 8:14 Eastern Time--I was there in July. It was en route to Los Angeles, and it was carrying 64 people. Then at 9:37 it bombed a portion of the Pentagon, right where I was under when riding the metro in Washington D.C. Then, at 10:10, that portion collapsed. It was 7:10 Western Time, and I was still emotionally shocked--I didn't want to go to school that day, I just wanted to watch all this unwravel in front of my eyes--all this was happening at the same time, regardless of time differences--what happened at those exact moments happened in California. There wasn't three hours seperating California from New York anymore. Just a wide, sweeping nation viewing what was happening.

But, what I think I remember more is the collapse of the south tower at 9:59 Eastern Time. I just...I was in complete shock. How could this happen? I was thinking, is this just a bad dream? I saw people jumping from both of the towers and that tragic event just shook me up. Some people wanted to die so badly that they jumped--plummeted--to their death instead of waiting for the flames to engulf them or the tower to fall on them. Then at 10:28, the north tower collapsed. And I was still in shock.

What was most impacteful to me was Flight 93 and how the passengers aboard worked together to try to bring the plane down because it was headed toward the State Capitol. But, I think the most heroic person on this flight, was a husband who called home to his wife, saying that terriosts have taken over the plane, and that he, and others, were going to do something about it. I just liked how he had said that--his final talk with his wife. To me, everyone aboard Flight 93 who tried to take down the terroists are heroes to me. Their time was 10:03 Eastern--7:03 Western.

I think, near the end of the day, I was exhausted emotionally, physically (it was, like, the second week or something of me starting 7th grade....I had to be physically exhausted), and mentally. I needed some cheering up, something to tell me that everything will be okay and this whold incident is under control or just a bad dream I dreamed very vividly (don't care if it's spelled wrong.) I think President Bush's speech sort of gave me, and the rest of the country, insperation. One quote I insintially look to is this one: "These acts shattered steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve."

In other hand, a poem I have composed last year to honor the deaths of the people involved in the event (not counting the terroists):

A tragic day, with tragic loss.

Fields of crosses lay, for those who's lives were taken with terrible cost.

Gold outline of heart, strong and brave for thier lost one,

not wanting to be apart, but goes on living, trying to have fun.

Pray with me now for the souls of 9-11.

A moment of silence with heads bowed and pray with me that these souls are safe in heaven.