This was a column I wrote last Sept. 11 for The Northwest Florida Daily News. It seemed appropriate to share it again. 

The woman at the drugstore cringes when she hears my date of birth. The tellers at my bank shake their heads and give a knowing look. Then there are the people who offer condolences.

But other than having something tragic happen on my birthday, I have no connection to Sept. 11.

In September 2001, I was working for a television station in Montgomery, Ala. and had taken the day off to spend with my family back home.

I passed on my normal routine of watching the morning news and went to refinish a table in my parents’ garage.
When I came back inside the house, the answering machine was flashing and the phone was ringing.

It was my mom and my work and my friends with a resounding, “turn on the TV!”

And so I did, just in time to see the second plane crash into the South Tower.

In that moment, I changed. Our country changed. And my birthday, Sept. 11, changed forever.

Now, instead of a birthday, I think of it as a re-birth day.
It is a day that reminds me the world is bigger than I am. There are many more problems and much more heartache than I can ever hope to fathom. And there is enough compassion and will-to-aid to see us through those struggles.

The year following the terrorist attack on the United States was an odd one. I wasn’t sure if it was wrong to celebrate as usual. But it didn’t seem right not to acknowledge the fact that life goes on.

It was something that New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani said that made it clear what I should do.

“…we’re going to be stronger than we were before…I want the people of New York to be an example to the rest of the country, and the rest of the world, that terrorism can’t stop us.”

And it hasn’t. Giuliani’s push to have New Yorkers honor those who died by living their own lives trickled down to a twentysomething in the South.

Every year, I celebrate with new meaning.
The terrible events of September 11 are never far from my mind at this time of year. However, to let them stop me, or any of us, from living our lives would be succumbing to the people who seek to do our nation harm.

They wanted to change our way of life. They wanted to make us afraid to live.

We can’t let them succeed.

Celebrating birthdays, life, friends and family are part of American tradition. And it isn’t disrespectful to do those things.

We must live in memory of those who are no longer able to.
And I’ll continue to blow out my birthday candles in honor of those who died on Sept. 11, 2001.

It was going to be a train wreck. I knew it, the whole world knew it.

But still, I watched, hopeful that our little Britney would surprise us.

Instead of surprise, it was mostly shock and awe as she wriggled apathetically across the MTV Video Music Awards stage under what appeared to be the influence of some sort of mind-altering substance during her performance of “Gimmie, Gimmie.”

First she pranced back and forth in her bra and panties, then decided since she wasn’t doing a great job lip syncing, she just wouldn’t mouth the words either.

Combo’ed with a bad weave, her performance was sad. There was barely even booty-shakin going on.

MTV could have saved a truckload of money by hiring a stripper who’d at least be more enthusiastic about gyrating on the stage with the men Brit was dancing in and out of.

(She even grabbed at one of thier crotches, which I’m not sure was planned from the look on his face.)

Diddy looked as if he was ready to bolt. 50 cent just stared blankly in disbelief. Rhianna and the girl next to her exchanged knowing looks and uncomfortable giggles.

Apparently, being rich and young in Hollywood can buy you enough crack to help make a fool of yourself once again, this time in front of a live audience to be youtubed for the rest of her existance.

Check out this link to see Brit in action. http://www.mtv.com/overdrive/?id=1568788&vid=173440

On to why I couldn’t sleep last night, and a much better time spent in front of a flickering screen.

I had no problem falling asleep on the couch last night. It was when I moved into the bedroom and tried to fall asleep again that I went over every scenario possible concerning how I’d escape a psychopath if he broke into my apartment.

For those of you who know me. You know my love for horror movies.

And…you know my top three fears in the world: sharks, the dark and Michael Myers.

Laugh if you want. Go ahead. But my friends have the understanding that if anyone dresses up like Michael Myers for Halloween they will probably be punched simply from a gut reaction. (A side note. Shark costumes don’t bother me. You can dress like a shark.)

So, it was with a therapeutic intent that I went to see the new Halloween movie with a couple of friends last night. I’ve seen all the Halloween movies, multiple times.

This flick was disturbing and went back further into the reasoning and transformation of Michael before catching up to the main storyline everyone is familiar with.

It was bloody and startling.

I jumped like a high school girl several times. And, I know Michael Myers is a fictional character. However, I couldn’t help but try and play out what would happen if “Michael,” or any other mask-wearing, knife-wielding person were to bust down the door or through the window of my apartment.

Would I break for the door at the opposite end of the place? Would I remember to grab the keys? Would I run to the road, or into the woods (Not the latter, obviously, we all know what happens when you take off for the woods. That’s like asking to be murdered.)

The conclusion I came to was it would probably be beneficial to take off for the stairs and start knocking on everyone’s doors as I passed by. That would possibly wake the neighbors enough to call the police. And, it would provide many more victims for the assailant to choose from as they emerged sleepily from their homes, affording me the opportunity to escape.

I don’t know my neighbors. So, therefore, they are expendable.

As always, I’m not sure the remake was as good as the original…but it was worth seeing…especially for horror fans.

I figure it’s good training for the real world, too. Everyone needs their own escape plan in case of serial killer invasion.