Was pretty much like any other day of the week.

I didn't even remember the significance of the date until I heard some jets fly over and my science teacher mentioned that she and another teacher had heard them earlier and sort of got scared for a second.

There were really only two other points in the day that were different.

The first was the announcement of the moment of silence.

The second was a sort of "lecture" (I can't think of the right word) by my U.S. History teacher about what happened, who did it (that it was individuals, not groups), what the symbolism was, and how he had found out it had happened.

Then he sort of got off on a tangent about a thing he saw Carlos Mencia do at the end of a stand-up routine a couple of years after it. He said that he sort of just stepped back and started talking about how everyone is always getting on each other's nerves and somehow making a conflict out of everything. Then he described how the smallest little thing can escalate into a fight, and how two people could end up angry at each other over pretty much nothing, and how it's entirely possible that something could happen to one of them before they get the chance to reconcile, and how you should always tell the people you love that you love them, no matter what.

I thought about that for a while, and I wish I had the courage to.

(I apologize if this seems like it's rambling a bit; I started typing this entry, stopped for like two hours, then started again when I was tired)