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.