Am I ignoring, or ignorant of, what today is?

Of course not.

I cannot be. I never will be. But the way it is carved into my awareness is in ideology and academia, in vital shifts of meaning, in a redrawing of the lines of international relations in blood and rubble. It haunts me in the form of the blurring between certainty and floudering. I stared at the television screen late into the night, and felt everything I understood come tumbling down. I live my academic life in international relations. Before this time last year, I knew the way the world worked. Afterwards, nothing made any sense.

Mine is not the personal, mine is not the moral, mine is not the emotive. At least, not emotive in the strength-gathering, heart-rending way. I wasn't there, and I don't know, not really, anyone who lives in New York. Mine is emotive in a cerebral way. And no one wants to read about that, not today of all days. It seems callous. It seems flippant. So I'll just shut up.

(This time last year.)