I like to play dress up.

Surfing around on eBay I was inevitably drawn to looking up hoodies with kitty ears, bunny ears...and of course and inevitably cosplay. There was a Pita-Ten headband with two little bunnies on each side. It was so...dare I say it...kawaii. Really cute. Something I would actually wear in public. Nothing I could actually justify buying.

Then I looked up Di Gi Charat. There was a Rabi~en~Rose plush. It reminded me of when I made my Rabi~en~Rose dress. I put so much effort into it and I was really jealous that Janet bought her's. Her's was pretty cool though. It went straight out...she looked really good and I was too jealous to tell her, so Janet, you looked really good in your Rabi~en~Rose dress. It was damn cool...and damn cool that we were twins. I guess now I can say that we were anime and manga versions respectively. I bet your dress held up better than mine too!

Maybe I'll dress as something cool for halloween, but chances are I would have to explain myself to everyone. That takes all the fun out of it.

I'm just a freak.

It seems only appropriate to write today.

Just like EVERY OTHER person who has a online journal or whatnot.

It's 9-11. I suppose I'm supposed to be all introspective about it. I'm supposed to be patriotic and proud to be an American. How come I'm not? Is this the feeling that one has when a loved one dies and you don't feel a thing. You don't even feel numb. You don't feel anything that related to how people EXPECT you to feel. It's another day to you and you're still alive.

So I guess that's how I feel. I'm still alive.

So shouldn't we not only celebrate those who had died a year ago AND those who surived? Those who all surived in their own ways. Those who made it out of the towers. Those who were helped by strangers. Those who lost friends and family. Those who knew those who lost friends and family. Today should memorialize all those who were involved...a reminder that life is precious and that one doesn't knwo what may come around the corner at them.

Oh great. I did it. I wrote an homage to 9-11.

Just like EVERY OTHER person who has a online journal or whatnot.

So Jenn zooms by the doorway of the Patisserie this morning.

Yes. Zooms by. Accompanied with a resouning "woooooo!" that makes the groggy people in the shop look out the door.

Jenn has aquired her grandmother's TriWheel motorized cart. (like a Lark or anyother little cart that old people sit on and wheel around on at the mall.) She wheels back and forth as I stare, mesmerized, out the window at her. She wheels out of sight and returns through the back door with the usual bounce in her step. "Isn't it cool?" she asks. I try to play it off. "Yeah. That's pretty cool." I return in a deadpan voice. Bryan comes by and she takes him in the back to show it off. She's very proud of it. I still am unmoved. Unmoved, until we take a break together out back. She's wheeling around and finally hops off. "Y'wanna try it?" I hesitantly sit on it cushion-y seat and look at the simplistic control panel. I tap one of the levers and the cart creeps backwards. I tap the other. It goes forward. I turn the handlebars and it turns in the desired direction. I do donuts and can't help but also yelling, "woooo!" I haven't had this much fun all day. I ride down Main Street. I don't care what people are thinking.

I'm on a motorized cart and they're not.