I know this. I relish in the fact. I really do. But add PMS onto an already emotional day. And you get a Jen(nifer) crying at the drop of a hat. I was *hardly* able to fight back tears this morning while reading the incoming reports from London. (I was after all at work!) And saying good morning and answering the phone in a cheery voice? Made me sick. It was NOT a good morning. Not at all.

I went to give blood after work. I sat in the reception area, reading a *Why I Give Blood* collection of stories, and I started crying. In between cookies. Many of the stories dealt with families that gave blood for the first time when they found out a loved one was sick. This was me too. My dad needed a lot of blood when he first went in the hospital. I have been giving ever since. Oh yeah not to mention there was a terrorist attack today, giving blood. Alas.

Cry. Cry. Cry.

I fought back tears when I stood at the World Trade Center site a few months ago. (Who am I kidding, I teared up on the freaking subway after SEEING the stop for the WTC) Of course Katie and her son were there…I felt silly getting so upset, I didn’t want to get closer. I didn’t want to stare. I didn’t want to be there at all. Katie said I was very *impressionable* (ha!) My heart started pounding, blood RAGING. I was standing across the street, waiting for her son to finish his frap and I just couldn’t get away fast enough. I was no longer sad but fucking pissed…pissed off that such nonsense occurs in our world. Pissed off that everyday the people in NYC have to walk by the WTC burial ground, and can’t help but remember. RAGE. Pure rage. Shoot to kill those bastards rage. All while standing on a corner…sad, mad…pissed, but PROUD to be an American. Thankful for our men and women in uniform protecting us daily.

Today? I found myself worried about my close friends in the big cities. Cities I dream of living in someday. Worried that something might happen. Silly, perhaps? But I can’t help it.

I’m the girl who already cries whenever I hear our National Anthem. Every single time. When I would take out my *kids* at work to baseball games or football games, they would fuss when I told them to be respectful. And of course, then they would see me wipe my eyes like a big dorky Ms. Jen would do. But I wouldn’t have me any other way.