I'm not going to lie, this is not a good week for me.

I had a perfectly nice weekend, taking the bus out to Pennsylvania farmland where I'm from and frogs picked me up. We went back to her parents house and helped get ready for the bridal shower for our cousin that Frogs was hosting on Sunday.

We went out for dinner and proceeded to order a bottle of merlot and a bottle of champagne because we deserved it. We hung out with the wait staff who Frogs knows from her previous life as a server, and even though I shouldn't have, I gleeked a little bit in the bathroom before we headed out - courtesy of our waiter.

We were feeling really good, aside from the drunken call Frogs received from her best friend telling her that she likes Frogs' shore boy and would like to date him. I forbade her to call the girl back and told her I'd deal with her, and I will. She will be dealt with in the most appropriate of ways. I'd don't like girls who jump for sloppy seconds, particularly when they aren't even up for seconds yet.

Like I said, we were feeling good, until we walked into Frogs old hangout and walked right into her old roommate, who eloped with Frogs best guy friend, neither giving her the courtesy to let her know before they hopped a plane to Vegas. I've dealt with her already. A few years ago, I gave her a talking to which made her cry three times, only two of those times was I actually present.

So we ran into her and she hasn't changed. She's still a crackwhore now married to a cheater.

Sunday's shower was awesome. Frogs did a great job.

This morning I came to work to start what will inevitably be a hard week. The first call of the morning was from my Father, who called to tell me that my uncle died. He was shaken up and I felt badly.

Obviously, I'll be going home for the service, and I am just hoping it doesn't coincide with our first charity event for my friend's husband on Friday, as I've promised to go to Philly on Thursday night and stay with her through the weekend.

It was a somber day for me, as it seemed for most New Yorkers I passed on the streets.

It's hard for me to believe that it's a year, since it happened, since we lost so many friends and residents.

The aftermath makes it just as hard. Families who are still angry and the guilt associated with the donated money, which almost no one has received. It's a lengthy process, to apply for the Fund, and it's something that many are approaching slowly and with caution to see how the first few beneficiaries play out.

I think it's hard to be involved with such a public grieving process. I think people are measuring people's grief, like, they feel worse for the mother than the siblings or the wife with children over the newlywed. The fiance's seem to be left at the wayside. There are the friends of victims and the people who got out.

And then I turn on Access Hollywood and see an hour dedicated to where the celebrities were that day and it's just so contrived to see Gwyneth Paltrow relive the day as if she were here, when she was in Los Angeles. Of course, you don't hear from Susan Sarandon, who showed up on site later that day volunteering to help - before it was the cause du jour.

I just feel like it's so manufactured, when I really want everyone to just be silent. To just shut up and remember. To think about those people we all watched die, and imagine what they could have been. Who they should have been allowed to become, if they had not be murdered on a beautiful Tuesday morning.

So many babies without parents. What will become of them? Will they grow up angry and confused? How can they not, when I feel that way having been here and lived a pretty good amount of time with those people.

Following up with families and challenging the infrastructure of the buildings isn't paying tribute in my opinion. Reflecting on the people, that means something. Laying them to rest in my mind, and reflecting, that's how I plan to get through this week.

As best I can.

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