Doomsday America: 10 years

I don't think I will ever witness such a day ever again.  At least, I certainly hope not.  Tuesday the 11th of September was not this generation's JFK or similar era defining moment, it was the apocalypse.  It was a day that has defined the world, at least in part, every single day since.  The biggest and most devastating attack on freedom for an unthinkable amount of time.  The day I remember vividly.  As vividly as a twelve year old could ever remember anything.

To be fair, I can't recollect whether there was an appreciation of what was beginning to happen whilst I was at school, but from the moment I sat down in the 'blue room' (I think it was the dining room, that happened to have some blue Ikea unit in) of our old house, I can remember the staggering images that were all over the television, as I attempted to do my maths homework.

Things like that shouldn't happen.  It took cold blooded murder to a new level.  I dread to think how those last few inevitable minutes must have felt for the passengers on those poor planes.  I remember being completely hypnotised by the events, literally not moving until being ordered to bed.  As the day wore on, and little to no homework was completed, the horror of what was happening truly become only to visible.

I remember my parents not letting my younger sisters watch the coverage.  How does an adult begin to understand what had just happened, let alone a 8 and 10 year old.  I had no idea.  Who would do this? Why? What on earth would possess anyone to commit such an act?

As the towers came down with the terrifying ease of a house of cards,  the terror and realisation of what had happened only became more real.  I can shut my eyes and see myself sat on my mum's bed, watching the wall-to-wall coverage on TV, as firemen, policemen, anyone who was physically able pored over the unthinkable tonnes of rubble.

I think the day afterwards was one of the most surreal experiences of my life.  Everyone was on edge.  Would they attack again? Would they attack us? There had been blind panic that the UK would be hit next, so much so that I can remember asking my mum "has it happened again?" after school.  To this day, I have a chilling newspaper from that day.

The last ten years have flown by.  From a personal perspective, from being in what, year 7 or 8, to finishing my postgraduate degree is an incredible stretch of time. I've been lucky and had a wonderful group of friends, I've witnessed incredible highs with Liverpool, traveled the world and doing my best to make something of my life.  The mere fact that 2,977 people weren't given that chance, never mind the thousands and thousands who were directly affected is one of the biggest injustices I think the world has ever bared witness to.

For what it's worth, I think America have done brilliantly in recovering (as much as is ever possible from such an event) over the last ten years.  George Bush, whilst not very popular with many, should be remembered with massive respect for how he stood up for his country, and the free world in the aftermath.  No peace time leader has ever had to deal with such an atrocity, and I hope history looks kindly on him.

It is impossible not to catch at least some of the programs in remembrance that have been on the television this and every anniversary, which images still haunt and hypnotise me as much as they did a decade ago.  The incredible courage and bravery of the fireman that day has always stuck in my mind.  How on earth do you charge in to a burning tower, knowing the chances of survival are stacked against you? How do you manage to do your job when your colleagues are being killed instantly by falling debris.  By falling people.

It is something that I have never been able to comprehend - amongst many, many other factors during that day, and something I don't think I could ever accurately reflect my respect and appreciation of the men and women who showed such insane amounts of bravery and fearless pride in what they do, as they charged in to the very heart of evil.

Incredible.

I feel particularly lucky on days like today.  Especially today. 

I am certain I will never ever forget the events of that day, nor the thousands of people who have had their lives so cruelly dictated by the forces of evil, and hope to never see something remotely like this ever again.

Good night and god bless. 

You'll never walk alone.

Leaving University

Today, I officially finished University.

After 4 years, £30,000 plus, endless moronic lectures, thousands and thousands of words, a painful number of hangovers, mega lie ins, horrible essay all nighters... I have finally finished.

I am sad to leave University.  Sad that I'm not living with my friends any more and messing around, making people laugh and what not.  I somewhat write off the first year of Uni in my memory as I hated it.  Awful flatmates, living away from the main campus, and therefore EVERYONE on my course... it was difficult to make friends, and feel part of it.  But as time went by, I settled in to it more and made some brilliant friends who will be friends for life, no doubt about it.  When the undergraduate course finished last summer, I was so sad because I finally felt like I belonged there.  I think, in all honesty, that was a significant driving force in me staying on to do the MSc. Rightly or wrongly, I wanted it to carry on, as normality.

To be part of it.

To an extent though, thank God. 

I have gradually and fairly inevitably ran out of steam over the last six or seven months.  My expectations of a continuation of undergraduate life and making a whole host of really good new friends didn't really come to fruition.  

Don't get me wrong, I've met some lovely people over the last year, but with such diverse backgrounds and interests - it was difficult to formulate the friendships and experiences I had during the first three years of Uni.

So, I guess fortunately in a back to front way, it benefited me to have less distractions and get on with doing myself justice in an academic sense.  Of course, I still managed to fit in hundreds of hours on Football Manager, but when I needed to work, and work to a high standard - I did.

Hopefully, that will come to pay off in the coming months and years.

It has to.  Otherwise I am in a whole world of misery, probably stuck in retail for ever more.

I had a second phone interview today for a sales position at Molson Coors which went well.  If anything is going to cost me, it'll be my lack of experience in a similar role... but then, why not give someone like me the chance to prove that I'm better and will develop better than someone who has already done something similar, and not done enough to progress? Employers go on about achieving the right culture and personality in a candidate, so I hope that the lack of experience isn't held against me and I get a chance to prove myself (... or come second, again?) at the assessment day.

I certainly wish next week's five day assessment center was only a day long for a recruitment company, but I suppose I just need to suck it up and try and do my best over the week.  I just hope there's some similar people there that I can enjoy spending a week with.

We shall see.

This was on CSI the other day, and it struck a chord or two..