As I begin to learn a new city away from everyone the ones that I love, I have experienced a vast array of emotions and physical responses, excitement and fear coming to the forefront.
Anticipation for an opportunity to learn journalism in the most powerful city in America. Anxiousness to succeed and struggle at my internship, knowing that there will be ups and downs no matter how much I enjoy working for the Daily Caller.
Frightened as I'm riding the metro at 1 a.m., jogging late at night, realizing that one wrong turn would leave me helpless to find my way home. Knowing that on Tuesday, September 14th, I'm no longer simply a journalism student. I need to grow up and realize my potential. Hello world.
On this day, September 11th, nine years after the World Trade Center attacks, I have found myself reflecting much less on my own fear today as remembering the wave of anxiety that gripped me as a 12-year-old boy. Sitting in my computer class in sixth grade, a pervasive murmur took hold of the room until our teacher turned on the TV. For my developing mind, the image of airplanes colliding with symbols of my country were burned into my memory. The whole classroom was simultaneously confused and terrified by what was being shown.
That night was awful for a sixth grader from Minnesota, but I cannot imagine the pain felt across the country. My father, a 20-year police chief and currently an airport police officer (hired in response to 9/11), sat down with me and tried to give me comfort. I can recall being scared that my dad was going to be attacked, unable to comprehend the reasons for the attacks, only knowing that many public servants had been killed. (Even now, nine years later, I am having those same feelings of cotton mouth, clammy hands, and a quickened heart rate.)
Today, that terror is still evident in the unknown. Our country is in a recession and multiple wars. Americans fear what they do not know, myself included. As I head into my first week at the Daily Caller, I'm doubtful of my abilities as a writer and a truth-seeker. Writing on an emotional subject, one that has shaped my life as an American, leaves my mind frayed and disjointed. Trying to find a connection between my own fear of the future and the most frightening single day in my life leaves me reaching for the proper tone.
Does my fear matter?
The frightened 12-year-old boy inside of me is still reaching out, looking for someone to catch me if I fall. In this life, there will never be a moment where fear can outshine hope. I cling to hope and look ahead. I won't be held down any longer.
I am forever thankful to the NYPD, NY Fire Department, and the US Armed Forces for their work, also remembering those who died in the single most defining moment in my life as an American citizen.
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