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6:00 p.m., Sunday, October 28, 2001

It is time for me to stop writing now. It has been almost seven weeks since the world as we knew it changed forever, and since September 11, so much more has occurred. Americans are dying of anthrax, the threat of nuclear terrorism looms, and Afghanistan is being transformed into a giant crater as I write. Fires continue to rage at Ground Zero, rescue-efforts-turned-clean-up-efforts lumber on with no hope of an end in sight, heroes touch our hearts with awe, thousands of displaced workers search for jobs, police attempt to protect us, mourners cry, and well-wishers tie ribbons, wave flags, and mount signs of support from Canal Street south. Today the city of New York held a huge memorial at the site of Ground Zero. Thousands of people descended upon the area, many transported by bus, and the downtown area reminded me somewhat of September 10 -- filled with chattering crowds and vehicles -- but for all the wrong reasons.

The past seven weeks have changed me radically; I am not the same person I was. I am more aware, more afraid, more defiant, more angry, and more sad, in a jumble of emotions and a question for tomorrow. Others I know feel the same way; we discuss our lives in terms of "before September 11" and "since September 11."

In a sense, I feel as if I have watched our country mature from a naive child to a worldly adult, suddenly aware that not everyone is a friend and not everything in the world is inherently good. Children tend to smile and laugh more than adults; we are no longer smiling and laughing the way we used to. We have now truly entered the old world community, that community of countries that have existed decades and millennia longer than the USA's 225 years; those that have grown through pain, suffering, and war, and have learned their lessons the hard way. The countries that have been attacked and have attacked, have learned to sacrifice their freedoms in exchange for security, the ones that regard the USA as a spoiled, happy-go-lucky child, as they increase their numbers of soldiers and install surveillance cameras in public places. The USA now joins these nations, with the solemnity of an adult, acknowledging that maybe the grown-ups weren't entirely wrong all these years, after all, but continuing to wish for the naive days of childhood.

My academic studies have focused on bringing the world together, with an emphasis on the belief that understanding, comprehension, and education about one another would ultimately lead to world peace. When I think of terrorists living among us in our own country, taking advantage of our services, schools, and way of life, I, too, mature and realize that my belief in the possibility of worldwide tolerance and understanding is a myth. I will not ever stop hoping, trying to reach those who want understanding, but I will never again look at the world wide-eyed and believing.

Through it all, I have gained tremendous respect for the people of New York City. From Mayor Giuliani to the heroes to the people on the street who stopped to help others during a crisis, I haven't found a person in this city who hasn't tried to do something, volunteered, given blood, donated money, opened her office or his home to someone who has been displaced. New Yorkers have demonstrated their strength, their resolve, and their unwavering love for their city and their country. I am proud of them, and I am proud to be an American.

The skyline has changed, but it will change again -- for the better, when New York City rebuilds a testament to the power that is New York. The lights still shine, Broadway still dances, and life goes on. We are New York. We are Americans. And no one can ever take that away from us.

There is only one fitting end to this journal. I wish it were to say that all is well, but it isn't. The city is rebounding, it is fighting back, and it will be okay, because its people will not have it any other way. My final words, some have told me, should be of hope, of memorial, or of defiance. But instead, I can only say what is in my heart, that which, to me, encompasses all the suggestions. Thank you for reading and for trying to understand. When you think of me, of this tragedy, remember the pain and the suffering, the help and hope. Volunteer every day, and continue to make our country stronger through your daily efforts in your own home town. But there is one easy way to remember all of this, every minute of the day. Just remember these words: