As I traversed the demolition site of what will soon be the former U.S. Navy home port today for a photo project, I was struck by something. The site, as it appeared today, with debris piles everywhere and heavy construction equipment taking down the remains of buildings...it reminded me greatly of Ground Zero.

That 10 years ago, the same home port site was the location where many rescue and recovery workers took a brief respite from the horrors of the pit made it even more...fitting I guess? The whole experience set me on edge a bit.

So much has happened in the past decade that it almost doesn't seem like its been that long. Hell, so much has happened in this past year that it hardly seems real.

Feels like just yesterday I was in a snowy parking lot with a few friends, some old appliances and a sledgehammer...embarking on another crazy photo project. Now I get to wear a hardhat and roam an active construction site.

This has been a blur of a year. People that I thought i'd never see again have come back. And one evil went away forever.

I was recording a podcast with my friend the first night of May when I got the text. Instantly I felt a euphoria and release that everyone had been waiting to feel for a decade. I jumped and danced like the idiot I am until I remembered the loss and remembered that nothing will bring anyone back. It was a night filled with such conflicting emotion.

5 months later, a couple came into my job, there son had been a firefighter who was lost on September 11th and I discussed with them how best to view it. While I don't remember the full context of what they said, I sensed in them a feeling of...not acceptance, but of almost coming to peace with it all. They would never forget, nor will.

Our generation will carry this with us till the end of our days. How we chose to carry it is up to each of us individually. I will chose to use the lessons learned in as positive a way as I possibly can. I know that is what those that we loved and lost would want for not only me, but for all of us.

While I looked upon those early May days with conflict...I felt nothing but pride, albeit bittersweet- in July, when NASA's final space shuttle mission took off with Atlantis commander Christopher Fergusons rally call of "Let's light this fire one more time," I once again cheered like an idiot, proud not only to be an American, but to be a geek, for if it wasn't for a buncha crazed science nuts, we may never have had the chance to ride rockets.

I say proud to be an American because I am. And its not about whose dick is bigger or country songs or nutso politicians. I say i'm proud to be an American because I am. Look, yes, the economy is in turmoil. Lots of people are out of work. Reality TV is still a dangerous threat to human intelligence, but you know what? When Tuscaloosa, Alabama and Joplin Missouri were ripped apart by tornadoes, people from around the country helped. They didn't wait, they just did. They donated, they drove down to search for people, they put people up in their homes. When nature showed its worst, we showed our best. We're a country that can have the largest water balloon fight and enjoy the total unabashed silliness of it all just because.

I think that is part of the reason a lot of people are in a funk. Is no one knows how to just have fun anymore. There has to be a reason behind it, there has to be meaning to everything, and yeah even i'm guilty of thinking that way, but at least I can admit it. Whatever happened to just doing something for the sake of being a kid again? Whats the harm in going back to whats good and worked for us every once and a while?

When I look back at the past year I think i'll at least say I had a bit more fun and enjoyed my friendships more.

That actually was a big part of the year for me, the whole idea of friendship was pretty big. One of my mothers favorite movies was "It's a Wonderful Life" and one of the quotes I will always, always take away from that movie is "Remember, no one is a failure who has friends."

Without my friends I don't know how I woulda made it through this year. While it may sound corny or hackney, its true, you guys really were there for me at the worst moments and shared the best ones. For that i'll be forever grateful. Be it trudging through the snowy woods, random impromptu in-house barbecues, or marching up 6th ave dressed like Dan Aykroyd, you guys made it an excellent year, and i'll be looking forward to whatever lies ahead...even if it is a pie in the face that is actually Ranch dressing.

This was an easy year, nor was this easy to write, but it was cleansing, and I think at this time of year everyone feels a little bit like that, like the fighter who took one helluva beating but pulled it out in the end. I think part of the reason is because everyone has a little bit of New York in them, and if there is one thing I know about this city its that its a stubborn town, but if you make it here, you really truly can make it anywhere.

So to those reading this, wherever you may be, thank you. Thank you for your friendship, for your time, but most important, thank you for being yourself. I'll look forward to seeing you in 2012 and beyond, and you know what? I'll bring the bacon.

Stay safe everyone!

I wanted to think of something poetic and insightful to start this off but nothing came to mind easily. This is a problem i've been dealing with, with a frightening bit of momentum a lot lately.

My mind doesn't want to shut off. Ever. Even now as I type this all I want to do is everything. I want to put away my laundry, I want to look at the index card that is a foot away, I want to read a book that I know i'll only make it through a few pages of until my brain goes off on some irritating tangent into who knows where.

I want to rest. Truly rest, mind, body and soul, but that won't happen.

I'm kept awake at night not just by these relentless thoughts, but by depressing realizations. A little over two weeks ago, I lay awake in my bed staring up at my ceiling examining things. I'm pushing thirty, I'm back at school yes, going for a degree yes...but it just seems overwhelmingly more complicated now then it ever did before. Not to say that it was supposed to be a cakewalk, but this...its different. Its hard but its not. Maybe my brain is making it out to be harder then it really is.

I have a learning disability. At first the doctors thought it may have been A.D.D., but just to be sure they ran me through a gamut of testing. EEG, MRI, Catscan, CT Scan(same thing?), Memorization tests, blood tests, Brain scan, cognitive tests. I was examined as though I were an astronaut. The diagnosis? "There definitely is something wrong, there definitely is a disability...but we don't know what it is. You've compensated for it in someways but not in others." And that is all they could say.

That frustrates me every day. Not being able to focus on things is not as "funny" as one may imagine.

It is with these thoughts in mind I go back to that night two weeks or so ago. As I lay there, the thoughts continued to stream in like waterfall. Will I be going for this degree for the rest of my life? Will the job that I really want ever be available to me? Will my pursuit of my other passion in life ever be taken seriously? What will this holiday be like with less money then before? Can I continue to handle two...no...two and a half jobs? Everything, all at once came crashing into my brain.

For a brief, stupid, fleeting moment, the thought, keep in mind I said THOUGHT of something stupid and selfish crossed into my mind. I quickly dismissed the thought...but the fact that the thought even entered my brain upset me a great, great deal. Its a thought I will never have again. Ever.

Most nights I come home to an empty house, burdened and tired by the day that has passed and the ones to come, when all I want is to just clear my mind for a little while. To re-charge my batteries, but there is simply too much going on up there. Do you know how painful it is to come home to an empty house and to be alone with your thoughts sometimes? And yes, i'll admit it, I sometimes get envious of others happiness, especially when it comes so easy. I'm pretty sure others have felt that way too. I don't like being alone.

Maybe this is all mellow dramatic, maybe some will say "you aren't making any sense, why are you even talking?" Well. I don't know how to help you there. This is me. This is as real as it gets and right now i'm struggling a bit and this is the best way I can think of to at least try and clear my brain of some of the clutter.

Do others have it harder then me? Absolutely. Without a doubt. I'm no more or less special then anyone else in regards to this.

Many see me, they see my car, they see my ideas and my hopes and dreams and I feel many don't take me seriously. Do I let this get to me? I want to be cool and edgy and say "No man, i'm above that." But i'm not. Every so often, sometimes more often then not, it bothers me.

At my core, I like to think of myself as a carefree "who gives a damn" kinda person. And most of the time I am, but that doesn't mean I don't have a brain, that doesn't mean I don't have intelligent thoughts and it certainly doesn't mean i'm going to sit by and let myself get walked over.

I didn't have a clear cut full on plan in mind when I sat down to put these thoughts out, and I still don't. I've hit backspace and delete a few times, but for the most part this is as raw as i'm gonna get, and if you don't like that, and by you, i'm not referring to one specific person, but if you don't like that, then I don't know what to tell you.

Maybe some of you will understand what i'm going through maybe not. But for now it just feels a little bit better to get these thoughts out in the open.

Eight years ago tonight was the worst night of my life. Eight years ago tonight, I lost my mother.

It was the continuation of an already awful year and also the continuation of what has become - to me at least, the reason why i hate the whole month of September. Nothing good seems to come of it, so, this year I decided to throw as much on to my schedule as I possibly could in order to keep my mind off the fact that "hey, its the worst month of the year."

Its almost, and I stress almost working....too good. I'm mentally, emotionally, and physically spent. I just want this month over.

When I look back to that time, eight years ago, it still seems real. Still hurts. A lot of people would come up to me and say "this is the way she would have wanted it." And i find that hard to beleive. I got a lot of that back then. People coming up to me, some of whom I didn't know, offering advice when I didn't want it, people who barely knew me trying to psycho analyze the hell outta me when most of the time I just wanted to be left alone.

The people who I wanted around me the most were there....except for one, and he knows who he is.

Still, some people pushed to hard, and it really honestly just irritated the fuck out of me to no end. One person though, shone through. This friend of mine came to me that night as I sat out on my front lawn just staring up into the sky and hugged me, and then just sat with me for hours, neither of us said anything, we just sat there. And that meant more to me then this one person will ever realize. Saying nothing said it all. I felt so at peace at that moment.

Thats when I realized that some friends are more then that, they're family, always will be. However many times we all bitch and moan, however many times we say horrible, hurtful things to each other, there will always be the all night car rides, the unplanned adventures into the unknown, the random movie marathons, the photo-hunts, the impromtu barbecues, house paintings, baseball games and countless other things that I will always be thankful for.

There are some friends that i've known for over 20 years that are without a doubt just plain family at this point. There are some people i've known for weeks that could someday be just as close. Hell there are some that I haven't met yet. Doesn't matter. Each one is special and unique and I love all of em.

People who barely know me come up to me every once in a while and say "you're so creative just like your mother." and at times that gnaws at me. I'm not her. I'm me. This is the way she'd want it. Every parent wants their child to be unique and different. My closest friends get this. And this is why I love the hell outta em. My best friends know me better then I know myself.

This rant is not just about me remembering my mother, its about me thanking every one of my friends who has helped me get through the past eight years.

Friendship is probably the most powerful connection you can have with someone. In fact, it might be the single most powerful force in the universe.

Thank You.

As I pulled into my driveway tonight, I got out of my car and looked up at the Staten Island Night sky. For the most part it was the same as it's been for the past week or two. Mostly Cloudy. There was something different this night however.

Its the same different that is actually familiar this night and tomorrow. Twin beams of light reaching skyward.

I can't fathom...cannot wrap my mind around the fact it's been a decade. That to me just seems cruel. That the world has gone by in such a blur.

I'm sorry to do this to you again, but I need to talk this out in some way otherwise I might lose it. I might do that anyway.

For some reason i'm being hit hard this time around and I don't know why. Maybe it's because of the overwhelming fear that people will think; "Well it's been a decade now, we don't have to give a damn anymore." And those people make me physically angry. You don't forget just because its convenient.

This happened, it was real, it had substance. Terrifying, painful friggin substance. And there are some moments where its just utterly unbearable.

I sat on the ferry today, on my way to work, and it all just started to slam me more so then ever before, and all I wanted to do was cry my eyes out. But I couldn't, not there. Then I got to work, and was reminded of it all. Day. Long. And I wanted to cry my eyes out. And now, I'm home, and I want to cry my eyes out. I have tears right there to the point my eyes are blurry.

It's not fucking fair. It's not. This never should have happened. Innocent, good people shouldn't suffer. Its not god damned fair.

No one should ever have to see a drawing made by a child that says "Daddy, please come home, we miss you." No one.

All I wanna do is cry my brains out right now, but that won't get me anywhere, it won't gain back whats been lost. So I do what I learned how to do best after that day. I push forward the best I can.

I remember a few hours after it happened, I went to the only store by my house that was open and got bottled water. I wanted to be ready for what was next, I wanted to fight it, whatever "it" was. I wanted to help. I wanted to show I won't take this lying down.

And now, ten years later, i'm still fighting. Why? Because I know there is hope in the world. Despite how horrible and awful things can be, there is always a better tomorrow on the horizon.

Recently I found out that very close friends of mine are expecting another child. These friends are some of the most kind-hearted, grounded people I know, and I had the great pleasure of, a few months back, being present at a small gathering at their home, where I saw their kids, and lemme tell you, these kids give me hope. They're not your typical smart mouthed bratty kids.

These kids are amazing, funny, intelligent and absolutely adorable and are raised by equally amazing, funny and intelligent parents. They all have a smile that is genuine and good. One that doesn't judge, one that doesn't hate, one that is simply put, beautiful.

When I think of these friends of mine, It gives me an extra hitch in my giddy up, it makes me want what they have, and what they have is what evil will never take away. They have a seemingly never ending capacity for good, and a hope that tomorrow, the sun will rise.

And its that hope, that strength, that they've instilled in me, and that i'd like to instill in anyone who reads this, that no matter what evils and tragedies you face, no matter how much the world beats you down, knocks you over and kicks you to the curb, you will always be given that chance to make it better, you'll always have a chance to bring it back, to show the dark there is light, there is hope.

There is always hope. It's a powerful thing, more powerful then anything else.

I just hope I can make it through tomorrow with dry eyes.

Liftoff

   A few hours ago, the space shuttle Atlantis began her final journey into the heavens. And as the craft roared to life on the back of more then a million pounds of thrust and went trans-sonic, I watched in amazement as once again-albeit for the final time, this machine carried four more brave legends into the surly bonds of the unforgiving black, in a quest for that hopefully will never end.

   The shuttle program has been around longer then me, so naturally I grew up watching launch after launch on TV.

   The vehicles, Enterprise, Columbia, Challenger, Discovery, Atlantis and Endeavor were simply...marvels. These were not simply vehicles propelled by rocket fuel. They were the ark into the great unknown, they were our generations Columbus fleet, seeking out new lands in which to advance human ingenuity.

   The fact that the shuttle is the most complex piece of machinery built by humanity is astounding. I can't even begin to fathom how a human mind could control something so complicated. I once read that each shuttle orbiter has more then 200 miles of wiring in it. For something that's smaller then the Statue of Liberty, that's mighty impressive. This is one of the many things compel me and astound me about not just the shuttle, but the space program itself.

   Some may mock the shuttle program, others may call it too costly, but to those naysayers I ask you to look into the eyes of any...everyone of the million people down on the humid Florida beaches today, anyone watching on television, anyone crowded around a radio what they think and I guarantee you that your cynical view will be met with true and unbridled optimism and hope.

   You see, its not just rocket fuel that fired those shuttles into orbit, its the hard work of millions, yes I said millions of people...be it the people who work on the landing gear in North Carolina, the ones who work on the rocket boosters in Utah or the folks in California who work on the heat tiles that are vital to keeping the shuttle intact in the crushing pressures of space...and the intense heat of re-entry.

   NASA and The space shuttle program aren't just line items in the U.S. budget, they're the blood, sweat, tears and determination of this countries people.

   For every kid staring out their telescope in their backyard to the ones damn near blowing their hands off with model rockets in a field(guilty), the U.S. Space program is more. It's about dreams coming true. Thats one of the key things i've learned watching the shuttle program mature over the years, its that dreams do come true, especially if you put your all into it.

   The shuttles broke not just the sound barrier but the color and gender barrier, showing that in space, it didn't matter if you were female or male, it didn't matter if you were black, white, Asian, Hispanic, Jewish, or whatever...all that mattered was your imagination, drive and determination, which is the way it should be here on the ground.

   The shuttle program helped erase a cold war and joined rivals not in conflict, but in the exploration for a better tomorrow.

   The shuttle program, these people with their sheer grit put a nation on its back and pushed through unimaginable tragedies to give us hope and to let us dream. We should never forget that. They use the term "Godspeed" a lot in liftoffs. It means to wish for success and fortune for one setting out on an adventure. And what an adventure it has been.

   When that adventure concludes about 2 weeks from now, it will not be an ending, it will simply be a page turned in the never ending story of our desire to explore and dream.

In 5 days I'll be 29. Entering the last year of what some say are "the best years of your life." I don't know how exactly to answer that.

The past nine years haven't exactly been stellar...though they haven't been awful either. For anyone who does read these rants or whatever you care to call them, you know the story so i'll spare the rewind. Maybe next year I'll do one of those neat academy awards style retrospectives and have it directed by Robert DeNiro(Hey gotta keep it close to home.)Yet as I approach the day, I'm left in that retrospective yet anticipating state of mind. Man...who knew that turning 29 could do this? When I look in the mirror I start to notice 1 or 2 lightly colored hairs and silently wonder how many years it'll be till I can walk around telling people that i'm Anderson Cooper.

Some say that age is a number, and again, i'm left wondering how to answer that, because honestly...I hate numbers. I find them to be an unnecessary part of language, kind of like the appendix to the alphabet. John Glenn didn't seem to let 77 treat him as an old man when he went back into space in on the shuttle in 1998.

Then I see people I take class with, realize they were born in a different decade and it just kinda hit me like a dodge ball..."holy crap i'm getting old." At first I think "well they're certainly young & vigorous." Then I start to notice how almost all of them can't grasp the simpler things.

Every time I go into or come home from the city I see people with a ridiculous piece of over sized bathroom tile in their hand then realize its one of those stupid ass "e-readers" or "i-pads" and a few thoughts come to mind.

Why is it some people claim its the "technological" age yet they go back to the simplest form of written text, from thousands of years ago, the tablet? Two, when did society become so lazy to the point of lifting a page became difficult? What is that...a 5th of an ounce of pressure?(for those of you remembering I hate numbers and are now saying, "You just used math!" I hope you get a paper cut between your thumb and index finger.) Books shouldn't run on batteries or short out when wet. Quit being lazy and turn the page you lazy, inept, self righteous jagoffs.

I see and hear myself going on these rants and know it makes me sound like an old man, but at that point that my give a damn starts to break, because ya know what, yeah, it was better when I was a kid. I find myself saying that a lot lately;"When i was a kid." It really kinda makes me wanna kick myself, because, the more I think about it...I hate the idea of the "cynical, miserable, bitter old man."(Too many adjectives?) Thats not me.

There is someone I know like that...someone who is perpetually miserable, in fact, i'm fairly sure this person has not only bought a house in the town of misery, but has painted the house the dreariest shade of gray. I see this person and it makes me look at myself and realize things aren't nearly as bad as they could be.

Sure TV sucks today, but you know what? at least all the good old TV I had as a kid is on DVD now. And, boy I do like me some "Airwolf."I also enjoy the fact I can relive me geek days by watching the one and true Batman for my time, Kevin Conroy...who actually talked like a real person, not like a dying 1986 Buick.

At this time of year, many people, particularly younger ones are hearing speech after speech about their future. Well, it's my belief that most of these speeches suck. Only Doc Brown and Marty McFly truly know about the future. And most of these speeches aren't uttered right before an all out assault on an alien force. So it is with Bill Pullman in mind I offer you this:

After going through the majority of what has been crap for the past 9 or so years, I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. I made it through the past 9 years and I did so because I don't roll over and let the defeat stick. The next day the sun will rise, there will be a cup of tea, and the neighbors insane cat will meow at a blank wall thinking it will talk back to him.

Refuse to let fear and misery and depression stay with you. These things are really just trivial, pointless roadblocks. And since i'm anything but subtle, I don't wait at the roadblock. I plow headlong through it laughing like a fool. I'd advise you to do the same. Laughing in the face of fear is a powerful, insanely wonderful thing to do. You are stronger then your fears. Always remember that.

Don't hold your feelings in, otherwise you'll go crazy. And that is not as fun as whatever celebrity meltdown of the week would have you believe. Billy Joel sung "tell her about it." So if that girl in the plaid shirt and sunglasses makes ya nutty, let her know.

There's no reason to sit in the negative and worry about how everything could go wrong. Worrying about nothing gets you no where. It's a saying as old as time, but actions do speak louder then words, so instead of sitting around worrying, go out and do something. I've recently become a believer in doing one thing every day that scares the crap out of me, but after doing it, I get to say "woo...at least that wasn't boring."

I find that sometimes I say that line in the company of friends. Another thing i've learned is sometimes a friend who sits with you and says absolutely nothing is all you need. Sometimes that nothing is more important then you realize, which in a city like New York is something.(I just made a Yogi-ism.)

Not every day will be easy. Some days it'll be harder then moving a granite block over a shag carpet(suck on that one Dan Rather!)(I actually like Dan Rather.), but I've discovered that once you make it through those tough ones, the good days are that much more worth it. You get that one little taste of victory, and you like it and you get something to fight for.

John Glenn went into space when he was 77. There's always time.

I've had a few days to process the bin laden situation and I still can't...come to a conclusion as to how to take it.

Sunday night I was in the process of recording a podcast with my co-host when a text message urged me to put the news on. Upon tuning into CNN, I saw the bottom banner; "Breaking news - osama bin laden is dead." It was there in bold print. no extended description, just raw and to the point, leaving no room to ponder.

My gut reaction was a loud yell, a few choice words and a victory dance. I wanted to then make sure. I ran down every news channel on my TV and found each reporting the same thing. This was it. This was real...I hoped. By that point there had still been no concrete statement from President Obama.

And so with baited breath, I waited. I pulled up some victory music on YouTube, most notably "Ding dong the witch is dead!" from the Wizard of Oz, and the band Steams hit song "Na na na hey hey goodbye" which by that point was being sung by the crowd of thousands gathering in front of the White House.

Then the President spoke the words everyone I know had been waiting to hear for 10 years:
"Good evening. Tonight, I can report to the American people and to the world that the United States has conducted an operation that killed osama bin laden, the leader of al qaeda."

And there it was. No mincing of words. No easing into it. To the point. At that point I erupted with an applause that would have made one think I had just won the World Series. I ran around my house, prancing and dancing like an idiot.

I called my cousin, A U.S. NAVY soldier. I called a close friend in the U.S. Army. The first...and only thought at that moment was to thank them, thank them for their service. I know neither of them had a direct hand in the operation, but the fact they are out there every day risking their ass for this country to pursue evil...and to finally have some of that effort pay off still means the world to me.

I cheered and fist pumped. Then NY1 news showed a shot of the World Trade Center site and I came crashing down.

It hit me like a tidal wave and instantly brought me back. Back to the smoke plume across the harbor, back to the sight of FDNY Rescue Company 5 racing across the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge with a full load of firefighters...none of whom would return. It brought me back to the sight of one weakly defiant structure standing amidst a smoky haze, until it too disappeared moments later.

The memories came back as sharply as the Presidents opening sentence.

My thought processes overloaded. This is what I...and everyone wanted. The enemy. Eliminated. But...somehow I still felt empty. A rush of conflicting emotions raced through my brain. I left my house, not knowing exactly where to go so I simply drove around until I eventually arrived at a memorial to the Staten Islanders lost on that day.

A few family members who had lost loved ones were there. I, along with them looked into the silhouetted faces carved into the marble. I looked out over the harbor, where the glinting lights of the city beckoned. I boarded the Staten Island ferry, and upon exiting walked 10 or so blocks north at hallowed ground. A place where friends and family once stood. Where unspeakable horror brought about unimaginable courage and cemented the not heroes but legends in the collective consciousness of the world.

What I saw next was something I had not expected. Throngs of people screaming, jumping and dancing. For a few moments my journalistic instincts took over and I found myself photographing the scene. The chants of "USA! USA!" made me swell with pride. Those chants quickly gave way to the "Fuck osama!" chants. I looked to left and saw the concrete structure of the under construction memorial and was then faced with a sad realization which is why I find myself so utterly confused.

We have eliminated the leader of the enemy...but it won't bring anyone back.

I saw people crowd surfing and being tossed into the air like beach balls feet away from where 2,000 + people lost their lives. At that moment i felt, and still feel disgusted...upset...and just plain lost. How is this a time to celebrate? What have we won? We kill one evil, evil, evil creature and people think this rights everything?

My city still has a hole in it. Families across the country will still have an empty place at the dinner table. Soldiers are still being killed a half a world away, and yet I come home to find videos of morons drunkenly partying it up in po-dunk, Ohio chanting "We won!!" What the hell did you fucking win?!?! Did you walk around lower Manhattan for months on end breathing in toxicity looking for any part of a human body to give to someone who lost a loved one?! Tell me how having your lungs slowly,agonizingly vaporize from what you breathed in counts as a win.

How does running through some college campus screaming make it better in any way?! Does it bring back any dead soldiers? If it does tell me, then I'll blow out my voice box tomorrow while I too gallop through my campus with a 15 cent plastic American flag that says "Made in China" on the bottom. Then i'll look behind me, wondering where the almost 6,000 dead soldiers are.

I may sound bitter, and I suppose i'm a bit of a hypocrite since I initially celebrated. I don't know.

While I am "happy" that we have disposed of the beast...maybe even thrilled, I know that this changes very little. There will still be evil out there. It will be a long time till this threat is fully extinguished. I have full belief in the United States military, and it's allies. We have the best trained individuals on the planet, some of whom i've had the privilege of meeting. I know they are up to the task.

So, while they are over there, crawling through sandstorms to take out threats we haven't even heard of yet, while they are over there sleeping in a space the size of half a bathtub, I hope we all enjoy watching some pampered actor suffer a meltdown.

If we the people are to truly achieve a victory in this...i don't even know what to call it anymore, we should be taking care of our own. Remember right after that day when people cheered rescue workers, and kept cheering until the last one came out, months later? Remember how strangers went to a neighbors house and baked them a pie or just gave them a hug? Those neighbors still don't have their loved ones back. They never will. But yes, go ahead and cheer and yell and, i'm sure it'll bring everyone back.

Go ahead and blame a religion that had nothing to do with it. Look I may not be a religious person, but that doesn't mean i'm not a human. Muslims didn't kill people, extremists did. But i'm sure you think that your 2 minute research on said religion makes you an expert. I'm also sure it brings back the people who passed away on Flight 93.

Go ahead and find a way to throw a political jab or two in there as well, i'm pretty sure that brings back everyone on from the Pentagon, cause y'know bickering about Democrats and Republicans is a real miracle maker.

And i know that debating on whether we should have shot an unarmed bin laden makes a lick of difference, especially considering i'm fairly certain he didn't care if the intern working on the 78th floor of the South Tower was unarmed or not.

Some victory.

At this very time, 99 years ago, The RMS Titanic was taking water heavily and beginning her plunge into the Atlantic. Before September 11th, as Martin Sheen put it, her name was a synonym for tragedy.

I remeber how I was brought into the world of Titanic. It was an interesting introduction to be sure. The late summer of 1989. I had just seen Ghostbusters 2 in the theater and had just gotten back to school at P.S. 11., first or second grade I think. We used to get these "Troll" book order forms, which I loved, because I loved-still love to read.

There was a scene in Ghostbusters 2 wherein New York City is once again being overwhelmed with ghosts...one of these ghosts just happens to be the eerie spectre of the Titanic arriving in New York, about 77 years late, with her passengers disembarking, to the utter shock and amazement of modern day dock workers, one of whom was played by Cheech Marin, who commented; "Well...better late then never."

With that celluloid memory still freshly ingrained in my head from the summer...imagine the look on my face when I saw, on that very book order form, the title "Exploring the Titanic"by Dr. Robert Ballard. I instantly checked it off and a few weeks later I got the book that I still to this day have on my bookshelf. It's a book that has so massively changed my life that I don't think I can ever get rid of it.

It was the first of what I would easily guess to be over 60 Titanic books I have read.

Before there was James Cameron's inaccurate piece of trash that saw dispersal in 1997, there was the truthful and excellently well done "A Night To Remember" from 1958, based on the book of the same name. But for me, Titanic was truly brought to life in the National Geographic documentary "Secrets of Titanic." To me this is the epitome of what a documentary should be. Excellence from start to end.

Titanic...I cannot explain the reason what it draws me in. For many who've known me for years, it's become one of my...trademarks I guess. While I no longer do it nearly to the extent I used too, I would spout off Titanic facts so naturally, you would have guessed I built the ship myself. It would be something people would associate me with for years. Until Cameron's piece of filth came out anyway.

For me Titanic was not simply books and documentaries. It re-invigorated a love of the ocean that I had gained from my mother.

It introduced me to the world of oceanography, specifically underwater archaeology. I became as obsessed as a kid would with submersibles and research ships. When my parents and I visited Cape Cod for a few summers in the mid to late 90's, I made it my mission to always go to Woods Hole, to visit the oceanographic institute(WHOI), whose ships, scientists and crews, along with Dr. Ballard-discovered the wreck, 2 miles down in the north Atlantic in September, 1985. A year later they would return with the 3 person research submersible "Alvin" and actually become the first people to physically explore the wreck.

For years as a kid, i'd try to duplicate Alvin and it's mother ship "Atlantis 2" in Lego form. I became such an Alvin fan that I even bought the book chronicling it's history. What kinda 8th grader buys a 300+ page biography of a submersible?

Every year we went I had always hoped to get a glimpse of Alvin, but every year it would be away on an expedition. To this day the closest I've gotten has been a small piece of the sub encased in plastic on a key chain, one of the many things I bought on those trips. One day i'll see it.

Woods Hole became a sort of Graceland for me. As I've said, Titanic opened up a world of discovery for me that wasn't just limited to the wreck itself. I became fascinated with the quaint little town, and still am to this day.

Dr. Ballard, who found the ship, has had a career that I've closely followed to this day. I would often go out of my way to listen to TV interviews with him, and his facts at the end of each episode of "Seaquest: DSV" made an already great show that much better. Giant submarine with a talking dolphin and the guy who discovered Titanic at the end of each episode? It's like they made the show for me.

Titanic got me to read more then a kid at my age usually wanted too, and i'm happy for that. It's still something I love, maybe now even more so.

It's taught me a sense of humility in a way as well. The story can really humble you if you think about it. Back in 1912, it was obviously not only a simpler time, but one where people were people. Men went down with the ship dressed in their very best. Many did not defy the "women and children first" order, like Thomas Andrews, the man who designed the ship and was last seen standing in front of a clock before the ship went down. People were decent. They knew the meaning of being decent.

In a day and age where we all, myself included, sometimes get frustrated if someone doesn't return our call within an hour, or get annoyed if our sandwich isn't completed within 3 minutes...in this crazy world...I want you to think of this. The family members of Titanic's passengers had to wait for 4 days to receive word of the fate of their loved ones. Think about that. Then realize how lucky we all are to be living in the world we live in now.

I look to close this writing with the story of Captain Arthur Rostron, of the RMS Carpathia, who answered the distress call sent out by Titanic. He answered the call, knowing he would be hours out from arriving, but still, he, without hesitation turned his ship around, and drove full speed into the very same field of ice that had dealt the fatal blow to Titanic.

He and his crew arrived roughly 2 hours after the railing of the stern section of the ship slipped beneath the waves. He arrived to find 13 small lifeboats with 705 people huddling in bitter cold, many having just witnessed their loved ones perish.

These people were unsure they would ever see rescue, yet this man and his crew performed gallantly in the face of tragedy.

This is what legends are made of. In the face of utter dismay, this story does have one shining beacon of hope that I would like to think we can all live up to in some small way.

While I think it's a bit...corny to say "RIP Titanic", it is my wish that the 1500 souls will in some way by this point have found rest. I thank you for reading this.

Twenty-five years ago today, we lost seven legends. They were doing what we all yearn to do- living a dream.

As they rose towards the unknown, they did not fear. They saw what their crafts namesake was, a Challenge. They saw this challenge and embraced it, they saw the adventure that awaited them and understood not only the risks, but the rewards.

They, along with all who came before them, and those who came after them, proved to us that we don't need a cape to reach the skies, just good old fashioned American hard work. The blood, sweat and tears that helped launch them onward will, as it always has, continue to help us in our future.

The dream of exploration and a better tomorrow does not discriminate either, that much was proven on that day. It does not see difference in skin color, gender or religion. Nor should anyone.

As we become ever more connected, more automated we lose a bit of ourselves. We lose that precious experience...that sense of wonder and amazement.

I truly hope that trend rescinds and we reach for our dreams with the drive and ambition we once had.

The men and women of the Challenger, Michael Smith, Dick Scobee, Judith Resnik, Ronald McNair, Ellison Onizuka, Gregory Jarvis, and Christa McAuliffe deserve at least that much.

This is not a eulogy, it is a message to all. It is a message that is engraved on a plaque at Launch Complex 34 at Kennedy Space Center, where three other explorers passed in search of the wonders of the unknown. It says "Ad Astra Per Aspera", which translated means "A Rough Road Leads To The Stars."

Meet your challenge. Follow your dreams, however hard they may be to attain.

Today would have been my mothers 59th birthday. It, as has been for the past 8 years instead been a day for me to reflect on not only her life, but my own. Where I was back then and wher i'm going now.

I tend to get a bit melancholy during this time, and in September. See, September will be the 8 year mark. And it won't just be 8 years since she passed, it will have been 8 years since a large part of my life changed.

There were times that year when I honestly didn't think I had the strength to make it through the next day. It seemed like every day would be a struggle, a battle to just keep my head up.

I've since managed. It's been hard, but i've managed. Ask me how and i'm not sure. Maybe it's my rugged good looks and ability to bake a killer apple pie, who knows, but somehow I've made it. I'd like to think she's be proud.

One thing i've learned over the course of this time is to persevere and to keep pushing. Not that I mean to sound like some corny magnet or bumper sticker, but thats what kept me going. That and chocolate, which I guess makes me a pregnant woman.

I've gotten to the point of I just don't want to deal with pointless meaninglessness(Yes thats a word).

I've always been a Superman fan, and though i'm not as big a fan as say...someone who once told me "I can't go to hell, I have a Superman tattoo, and that's the comic book equivalent to Christ." Well my Super-fandom in turn made me a fan of many things associated with the character, one of them being Christopher Reeve. Now everyone knows his story.

During my roughest days, I always looked at what he was going through and thought to myself, "how can I complain when this guy can't even move?" He couldn't even lift his finger and yet he kept plugging along like a Sherman Tank. He once said; "A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles."

Well, in retrospect, my obstacles are no where near as overwhelming as his.

Despite the storm around him he never accepted defeat.

It's this kinda of hope that I think the world in general needs.

When I saw the news of what happened in Arizona, I don't see blood and pain. I see a wake up call, a kick in the ass to the collective consciousness of not only the country, but hopefully the human race in general. I have a hope that we will not accept the defeat that was thrust at us that day, but a hope that we as a people will look past chaos and look toward something that will enrich us all. What that is I don't know, maybe it'll be a nice glass of iced tea(yes i'm hungry.), but whatever it is, I really think we just need to stop dealing with this kind of chaos. Chaos cannot sustain itself.

Today was not just my mothers birthday, but It was Martin Luther King Jr. day. One thing I beleive both of them had in common was the fact that deep down inside they could find the good in a person. That and they could both probably talk your ear off.

I'd like to think, that like them, there is a greater good in most people. That most people, despite the fact they are plugged into everything all the time would still take a moment to lend an ear to someone in need, or to at least offer a good chicken recipe(all comes back too food).

Before Christmas I touched on how I thought common decency had all but vanished. This whole rant might be a continuation of that one, who knows. All I do know is that while I miss my mother, I know she'd be happy with the fact that I'm willing to fight for what I beleive in. I think she'd also be happy with the fact that I listened to Springsteen today.

Happy birthday mom. I miss you.