From a house in the: September 2011

On September 11, 2001 I was seventeen years old and a senior in high school...seventeen years old. I went to high school in Staten Island, New York on the southern tip of Staten Island (here is a map). Staten Island is just south of Manhattan, and for those who may not know the World Trade Center is on the southern tip of Manhattan...that's somewhere between 12 and 15 miles I think.

I was walking to my second class of the day and a friend of mine came up to me and told me a plane had hit the World Trade Center. My very first thought was that somebody has screwed up and hit the towers with a small single engine jet that probably crumbled itself but that the towers were indestructible.

We went into class and sat down. Nobody had any real idea what was going on yet. Our teacher quieted us down and before anything asked if anybody had parents who worked in the World Trade Center. Two of my classmates raised their hands. He asked the two of them to please speak with him outside the classroom. I don't remember who they were, and I don't know if their parents were OK. I can actually still see them raising their hands.

The teacher came back in and gave us vague details. Then there was a PA announcement from our Principal basically telling us that we could stay if we needed to, but it was OK if we all left. Our high school relied on NYC trains and buses...not school buses, so we could just leave. I walked home. You could see the smoke in the sky from my high school.

When I got home I did what I think everyone else did. I turned on the news...I didn't stop watching for days....and I had my hand over my mouth a lot.

I don't know how other people react now, ten years later, to these events. They make me cry whenever I think about it. As I write this the people on TV are reading off the list of those lost. While I wish it was more of an understated ceremony, I am crying.

I was lucky enough not to have lost anyone that Tuesday. I was a bit young to have friends who were responders or WTC workers. I didn't have any family in it either. I did have close calls. My neighbor, Mr. Salatino, I believe he was a fire captain, and I believe he captained the fire-house closest to the towers. He took that day off, for no reason.

My brother lost a high school friend. He was....is a firefighter who went into the towers. He's the only person we know of that got lost. I knew him too.

None of that really matters though. We all lost a lot.

Now, I don't like when people try to make this tragedy solely a New York thing. It's not. I've heard people say you can't understand unless you live(d) here or know the people or walk by it every day. I don't buy into this. It truly is a worldwide thing. However, I will say I believe the emotion I get, the feeling of loss and the feeling of pure sadness, is there because of proximity.

I truly can't put into words just how much everything surrounding this date upsets me. I physically can't think about it without my eyes welling up. It is the single worst thing that has ever happened in my lifetime and was my first real exposure to the world as a dangerous place.

I remember how I felt in the immediate aftermath. They didn't show many of the things that happened down there that day. But in the days and weeks afterwards, if you wanted, you could see some of the details. I've spent a lot of time thinking about how I would have reacted had I been stuck in the floors above where the planes hit. Something that isn't impossible. In 2007 I worked on the top floor of a building across the street from where the WTC was. I think about what I would have done. I've seen pictures of people jumping. Jumping from the top floors of a 90 story building, just to escape what was inside. I don't know if I would be able to do that...I just don't. One picture in particular haunts me. You've probably seen it if you looked, here is a link if you haven't. One man had jumped, and he was on his way down...head first. He looked incredibly serene and peaceful. He probably wasn't, but I like to think he was. He had escaped something much worse.

It's this decision that brings me back to this past May. To when President Obama announced Osama Bin Laden's death. A lot of people cheered. A lot of people smiled. A lot of people said this wasn't right. I have never been one to choose vengeance, or to cheer someones death. It is simply immoral and illogical to cheer someones death. However, in this case...Osama Bin Laden presented these people with a choice, and this man chose to die. Bin Laden caused this to happen many, many times.

I was 17 when this happened. Me and people a generation younger or older had never really been exposed to this kind of evil. We are too young to have seen Hitler or Stalin or Mao. Hell, we were likely too young to know the Polpots and Milosevic's of the world. This was pure evil to us. I had never been exposed to anything like this before. This man, Bin Laden, he was my Hiter, my Mao, my monster. He was the absolute vision of what evil was capable of and I truly hated him. So when it was announced that he had been killed, I smiled and clapped. I didn't go outside and make noise, nor did I join the idiot college kids who were likely 6 years old on 9/11 who were drinking at ground zero. But I smiled, because the most evil man I will ever see had perished and could not do any more harm. His body would disintegrate in the ocean at a slower and less dignifying pace than those on the planes. He deserved much worse than he got.

I also remember discussions I had with friends in the weeks and months afterwards. I specifically remember one night in my friend Scott's backyard. Over some beers we were having a discussion about 911 and the war we were about to have. A few of them said they would gladly join, and would welcome a draft and looked forward to fighting. I told them I've wave from Canada. I guess I'm just not that brave. It wasn't idle talk either. Two of the fellas in that discussion went on to join the armed services. One became an Air Force Pilot and another joined the Army and spent a couple of tours in the middle east. I'm proud to have known them. They are far braver than I ever could be.

I went to the first baseball game in New York City after 9/11. The Mets played the Braves on September 21, 2001. I remember wondering if we were going to get blown up. I recall the snipers on the roof and the dogs sniffing everything and that it took forever to get inside. I remember Liza Minelli singing "New York, New York". I remember the 21 gun salute in left field. I remember the USA chants throughout the entire game for no apparent reason.

The result of course didn't matter much to anyone, or so we thought. After all, it was just going to be an escape. But it did. We had to win. In the bottom of the 8th inning Mike Piazza hit a very, very long homerun off of Steve Karsay (himself a Queens, NY native) to give the Mets the lead. I still consider it one of the greatest moments of my life (i'm balling right now) and NY sports fans list it as one of the best moments ever in NY sports. I've never been to a playoff game, especially not a World Series game, but I can't imagine a crowd can go as crazy as that crowd did. Have you ever seen fifty-five thousand people cry as hard as they can at the same time? I did, at that moment. Here is an article on the game.

I don't know exactly why I'm writing this. I guess I've never had an audience to share it with. I guess I realize a lot of my readers aren't from around here so they might like a look inside my head. I don't even know what I'm trying to express. I'm just intensely sad today. More than I ever thought I would be.

I miss my freedoms. I miss not knowing evil. I miss a lot of things. Oddly, I think most of all, I miss my skyline. The skyline is what we have as New Yorkers. And they took away out most prized part. We are raising a new one, and it will be beautiful. But every time I drive by lower Manhattan on the BQE (Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, just across the water) and I don't see them like I used to, or every time I drive to the Lincoln Tunnel on the Jersey Turnpike and those towers aren't there, I get horribly sad. I used to be able to see them from Staten Island. I'm glad I don't have that reminder every day.

I no longer like the "Never Forget" stuff that goes on. There are football players putting it on their sneakers and people putting it in their facebook status. It is just so pointless now. That doesn't mean you should though. The sentiment is right. We should never forget. Never forget those lost. Never forget what those wonderful, wonderful first responders did. And never forget the unity we had not only amongst ourselve but with the world afterwards.

I love New York.

I decided a long time ago that I considered life, albeit cliched, to be very, very short. This led me to the surprising conclusion that I really needed to enjoy it and do what I wanted to do at all times. My theory on life is essentially be nice, be selfish and compromise the two when needed. You are gonna die, and soon...you don't have time to not maximize your enjoyment of every day.

With this in mind I have always been a live for right now kinda guy, the future will take care of itself. It has always kept me in decent enough spirits...but I suppose at some point you need to plan. Last month I made a change for the future at the detriment of now.

Any of you who follow me know it took quite a while to find a job. An alum of my school gave me a chance in mid June to work for his firm. It was a no-fault insurance litigation firm. For those who aren't lawyers, or those lawyers who are fortunate enough to have never been exposed to it...this is the lowest of the low...completely mindless, completely form driven, completely useless mass "litigation". I did not learn a thing and hated the work (though loved the people).

In late July a firm I had interned for in 2008 and interviewed with twice in the 10 months prior called to offer me a job. They are a small corporate securities firm. Corporate securities is one of the two things I wish to practice (the other is intellectual property).

Now, I had worked for them already so I knew their deal. I knew it wasn't an ideal situation. I knew they pay absolutely nothing. I knew they had horribly long hours. I knew for these reasons they have really high turnover, which they don't seem to mind for some reason. I knew all this. What I didn't know was that these would be the easy parts.

I like the work. I'm constantly writing (more accurately, re-writing) SEC filings (think all the letters you heard in law school S-1, 20F, 8-k, 6-k), M & A agreements, stock purchase agreements, employment agreements, board resolutions, etc. This is the stuff I wanted to do. I like transaction work. So, I am learning and the hours do fly by for the most part.

My gripe, and the unknown part of the firm, was my senior partner. There are two partners, Junior and Senior. Senior is the 80 year old who knows all the clients. Junior is the guy who works 80 hours a week actually getting stuff done. Senior is quite literally the worlds biggest asshole. Junior is a nice guy, though defeated.

All the associate live on edge because of Senior. He is that boss that tells you everything you've done wrong and never, ever tells you that you did something right. He nit pics, he insults, he's mean, he yells, he's condescending.

Here is a list of quotes that have showed up on the associates paperwork in just the last 10 days (only two of which on mine!):

"Inexcusable"
"shows 0 thought and 0 effort"
"You can't be serious"
"This is wrong, for a change" (sarcasm)
"A lawyer wouldn't do this"
"This was early, I'm not used to that"
"How could you possible have gotten this wrong?"

He is the worlds worst micro-manager. Junior has been practicing for 30 years, but Senior still has final say and edits on all work that goes out. When he calls, Junior runs. He makes us rewrite all of our work seven or eight times, often "correcting" things he told us to do. I used to think this was just a way to bilk the clients out of billables...now I know he's just insane.

Here is a short and incomplete list of some of the things he has had his secretary get a hold of the associates so that he could tell us:

Don't use paper clips, we use staples
When stapling, make sure the staple is at a 45 degree angle in the corner
Don't put papers down in front of him at his desk, hand them to him
When handing him papers, make sure the text faces him and not towards you
When manually putting track changes on paperwork for him, use red ink, not black

These were the only things said during the phone calls.

Beyond his asshollery, we fear for our jobs. He has a track record of firing people simply because he doesn't like them. The female associates have it worse. He is clearly sexist. We all tip-toe around thinking one mistake will be our last. And with a man who has 2,334 stupid, inane rules...mistakes are likely every day.

So, I'm stuck. I have a job that pays nothing (though the same as the last job), works me 60 hours a week, and has a man who I genuinely wish harm to running things....but it practices what I want to practice and could conceivably lead to a better job at a good mid sized firm with a good salary.

Almost every single day is miserable (Senior is in the office only 3 days a week, though calls from home when he isn't) but I'm determined to muscle through. Within a month I'm going to start applying to firms again. I have to get out of here as soon as possible...but I can't just leave. I have to have somewhere good to go. That is the point. I'm sacrificing now, for the future....something I've never done before. It had better work out...and being a lawyer had better be awesome.