I thought I'd update this time without the dramatics of my usual prose.

It's September 11th, a big day for everyone. The television is littered with memorials and tributes. A large part of me is unaffected by everything that's happened but at the same time, I remember everything from that day and I'll never forget it for as long as I live.

I recently took a trip to Chicago, I was there for a training meeting with Starbucks but I wanted to go back to my old haunts on Wilson avenue. Something has always called me back to Uptown Chicago. It's no secret that that's where I grew up and spent most of my youth. In many ways I've been afraid in some respects. I don't know how I'll be received or what people will say when and if they see me. At the same time I'm drawn to this place that is the only childhood home I know. I remember the rage, the anger and the pain. I remember everything I felt when I left that life behind. As the years have gone on and that life becomes more and more of a blur for me I find myself not wanting to lose my connections to it.

When I arrived there I stood outside the doors, on the opposite side of the street for about a half an hour, hoping I'd meet a familiar face, hoping I'd engage kindness. As it happened I only saw one or two people walk in and out, and a flurry of people I didn't know. I walked around the side yard and started taking photos. One of several photos I snapped was the window into 316, the room I spent many years in. I had a bit of trouble locating it but then it realized itself. There was no mystery to it, it was just a window, a hundred among a thousand, nothing special.

I stared up at that window for a while, imagining myself behind it, what I discovered, what I learned, how it felt, how it hurt and how it laughed. After going to the back I went around front again and just waited. I saw a few familiar faces drive by in cars but no one static or approaching except the curious glance of someone I knew who either didn't recognize me or didn't want to. I found myself walking back to the Wilson train stop and as I climbed to the platform I met Brian Gray and Michael Warne. They both greeted me with smiles and conversation and an invitation to have me over at some point.

It was all odd, at one point I felt myself return to this familiarity, that I could've walked through the doors and the life I'm living now, all a dream.