Some of you and your notes are making me cry, something that I have managed not to do all day.

Okay, I broke down for a few seconds twice today. First when I saw a photo of my friend's Husband's co-worker and best friend on a poster on one of the many walls filled with smiling missing people and my roommate and I tearfully taped a picture of our guy next to his buddy. Oh God, I can see them, the way we placed them, next to each other just as we know they are positioned, somewhere...

He had four close buddies on his floor. Tight like brothers. Some of them were in his wedding with us in March. It was weird, 'cause when they got married, his guys and us, the bride's girls, were fast friends. And now we are missing groomsmen we spent weekends of the spring and summer with, leaving us bridesmaids to develop a new kind of ceremony - this search, for them.

We are looking for all of them, because we know that where there is one, there are the others. They wouldn't have left even one. Even if he was dead, they would have carried him out. And so our search is for all of them and they are all on our flyers and all on our lists when we search area hospitals for patients and even, this evening, when we began our search through the dead.

The other breakdown happened as we sat in the armory waiting with hundreds of others, to see the most updated lists - alive and dead. Salvation Army volunteers and the Red Cross have been so incredibly giving that I am starting to cry thinking about them again. But they handed out these sandwiches made by local school children. I mean, you could see the tiny little fingerprints in the bruised white bread with peanut-butter and jelly. I looked at the woman eating in front of me, and when she pulled out the sandwich, a little blue note fell out and in big, crooked letters, a child had written "I LOVE YOU," and drew a big sunshine and stick people. Okay, I just broke down again. All of the sandwhiches had little notes in them and hungry as I was I couldn't swallow that kind of unconditional kindness.

I must have done 5 television interviews today. No drama, just the facts. I have a crew following us for a documentary. Anything we can do, we do.

Miss Gingi helped us loads today, calling all Brooklyn area hospitals to search for our boys.

We heard some amazingly hopeful stories today. One from a roommate of a victim on the 105th flr. of building 1, who received a call at 11:27AM on his voicemail and the victim said, "I'm here, I don't know where I am and I don't know how far they are from reaching me..." and then the cell phone died.

The guy who sits on the trading floor a row away from my guy turned up alive today. He said he left right before my guy.

So we keep the hope.

We have grown a bit demented. I turned my back on my roommate for a minute today and when I turned around again, I caught her with her eyes closed and face upturned as an African minister from the United Church of Christ or something did some voodoo bullshit pain healing mind fuck type thing involving massaging her temples and chanting over her as some newsmagazine photographer shot the whole freaky frame. I swear. The freaks don't just come out at night. But whatever gets you through the night...or day.

Could I quote any more song lyrics??

Moving forward. We hit a deceased list today, because we are realistic. The deceased list is really horrific. It's descriptions of limbs and body parts. It was awful but we did it because the family shouldn't have to.

I ran into more people I know and found out about more friends of mine that we suspect didn't escape. A friend on the 93rd floor of building 1 - he probably never even knew what hit him.

We hit our 50-hour mark today shortly after I got a little light-headed on the steps of the armory and had to be pulled up and to the side by a police officer and volunteer. We've been searching for 50 hours straight. We slept for 3 or four hours last night, so there was little break, but we slept with the news running and that makes it not count. It's like resting.

Our guy's mom and twin brother came into town today with some reinforcements for us. I'm afraid they are shellshocked after getting a taste of what we have been experiencing and seeing and doing. They stare at us with wonder as we pull out our lists of missing people and new NYPD contacts, hospital insiders and anyone we have sucked in during our search that has offered help.

We are incredibly organized. Reporters ask us how we do it. I explained, we do it because we have to do it. We have to find them. We have to. We have to be strong because crying and giving in is not helpful. There will be a time for crying and grieving when and if that time comes. But now, well for now, we expect the worse and hope for the best.

We can't leave any stone unturned because when this is said and done, I want there to be no doubt in anyone's mind that we haven't done everything that is humanly possible.

During the day I don't sit down anymore, but I keep walking to keep momentum. The time for sitting will come when we are done. I wander with flyers for hours at a time, 5, 7, 10 hours. I forget that I'm standing now. I've been wearing the same pants for 24 hours. I think eating the entire Power Bar in one sitting is a meal.

Tonight we regrouped and assigned the new recuits to morning duties. We hope to sleep.

It's raining. It just started and that's very bad. Very, very bad. The rain will weigh down the rubble and possibly cause more collapse. It may also fill the oxygen holes for those underground. We know this because we spoke to some rescue experts, but we won't share this information with our friends or the family.

There is talk that my roommate and I will be the ones from our group to volunteer to dig tomorrow when they open it up to unskilled laborers. I think that's both good and bad. But I will do it to help.

For those of you in the area who asked if you can help, consider digging. I know it's going to be heinous and may be scarring, but if you think you can stomach it, we may help save some people. In every tragedy there are miracles. I want my guy to be one of them. I'll take him legless, faceless, whatever. I want him out and alive.

I noticed Gingi mentioned something about the Hate issue for middle-eastern americans and I second that.

While I want retribution and would be happy for that entire geographic area to become a parking lot, I met a young man today desparately searching for his sister. They are Indian and he couldn't stop talking to me. Talking and talking. He and his friends had palms and compasses and maps and were covering the tri-state area in their search - just like us.

Tonight, on their way to a new hospital, they were pulled out of their taxi by police, after a woman accused them of being suspicious for have electronic equipment. This emotionally broken man had to plead his case as a fellow victim.

That's a crying shame. It was a good reminder to me, and now I am reminding you: people of all ethnicities are hurting. But this time needs to be about hope and not propagation of pain.

Let's leave retribution in the hands of the professionals, and our worldwide allies who are supporting us during this time.

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