Sex and the Home of Blues

Summer is supposed to be the season of love, when those cheesy-ass romances are supposed to bloom like a rose, or something. But what about those of us who aren't that lucky? Those of us who have to spend those precious three months watching other couples frolic in the sand and feed each other chocolate strawberries? We try to handle it in different ways. We bury ourselves in work, a creative hobby, or we become the flirtacious life of the party. All to cover up the fact that we're sick of sitting on the sidelines like a chess club member at a junior high dance. Is it so wrong to find comfort in having someone to just flirt with and help you feel like a member of the club? Can it really be that bad to just want to have fun without having to go through all the messiness that even a casual relationship entails? Sometimes casual flirtation can be a good thing, but at other times we're accused of being teases, leading people on. Does this put us in the same category as the cheating, manipulating men we hope to avoid by not getting too close? Or are we merely cautious, smart even, to not get tangled up in a cliched, tangled romance that has about a 50% chance of making it past the 6 month mark?

This is a Title

It's been a while since I've written, so I figured I'd again now, even though no one reads this freaking blog anyway. But, whatever. For my nonexistant imaginary readers, I will gratify your salivating need for my poetic words. Blogs are supposed to be about your life, right? What goes on? Well, what if you have no life? Because lately, because all of my friends have their own things going on, it's pretty much been a solo ride. I miss them, but it's not like I have any right to complain. They're following their passions. I'm watching Comedy Central and practicing chords on my guitar. I guess I could write about stuff like politics or whatever, if that stuff didn't make me want to listen to Rebecca Black over and over again. Or I could be the female version of Perez Hilton, only with better hair. But of course I'm too nice to write about my friends' and my various scandals, as if we had any. So that leaves... what? My pathetic lamenting over my lack of a love life? Some whiny crap about how nobody understands me or my life? Hmm... Nah, too tired/irritated at my brother and his chromosomally challenged friends to think about it now. But rest assured, my fictional fans, I will fulfill your dreams/fantasies all in good time.

Random Boringness and Blahblahblah

Haven't been writing lately... mainly because I'm lazy. But I miss this blog and my nonexistent followers, so here goes it again. School's ending soon, in about 2 weeks, for which I am eternally grateful. I shall finally be an upperclassman. Aka a Junior Jewel. Hopefully it'll be better than sophomore. Actually, I looked up the definition. Sophomore means "moron" in Latin. Ain't that the truth? Of course I wasn't allowed to see Ke$ha when she came a few weeks ago, because my parents have not grasped that unlike the majority of the teen population, I have no desire to wake up in some dumpster, hungover, when I go out. Yes, I am aware that this blog is not particularly exciting. But that's what you get when you have no life, you insatiable bloodthirsty readers. Of which, of course, there are none, but still. I do, however, have a piece of very exciting news. Scroll below to read...












HA!! Don't believe everything you read. Share the disappointment.

Damn Regret

Went to the Black and Neon 2 Rave last night. Something was weird. Normally at parties I'm the crazy one, the one up for anything. But when I was there I felt sort of... awkward. I felt too shy to ask anyone to dance, and honestly didn't really enjoy myself as much as I probably was expected to. Probably because the strobe lights made me feel a little weird. It worries me, though. Maybe I've gotten too comfy with the same group of people. I need to branch out some more, I think. There's supposed to be another one tonight, bigger than the last one. I might go, just to make up for last night. Either way, somehow I need to get that energy back. And the quest begins...

Misery Loves Its Company

Lately it's started to seem like my life is getting progressively more shaky. One of my friends is acting distant, my dad is having some hard times, and sometimes I feel like I'm not qualified at all for my apparent role as my 12-year-old cousin's sort of mentor. Add all that to the fact that my interim report card wasn't exactly stellar, and you get some pretty suckish times. Screw it. Once I get out of this suburban hellhole and into Chicago, all this high school crap will be over and done, and the pretty blonde cheerleaders will be begging to speak to me. Hehehe. Does it seem like there's one too many "Wives" shows out nowadays? Like, they have Real Housewives of like everywhere, now they have Mob Wives, which, from what I can see, is about a bunch of Mafia Wars nerds who dress like New Jersey hookers. But I guess those shows are really educational. As in, I've learned that I'm making the right decision to never, under any circumstances, settle in or around New Jersey. Then again, it's sort of a repeat of the course taught by Jersey Shore.

I Like My Beats Fast, And My Bass Down Low

Had a pleasantly awesome time yesterday shopping and acting like spazzes at the playground. Hope A can snag Dennis at MusicFest. Still, I think we pissed D off talking about our strange attraction to douchebags. He's one of the rare guys who is actually respectful to women while still being fun to hang around. Kinda sad, since I seem to have some sort of temporary disorder that prevents me from wanting to date anyone. Especially since I know so many great guys. Hopefully I'm not a total bitch for still liking to flirt with random guys simply for the sake of flirting. Still, what girl hasn't done that? Anyway, I'm still trying to get up the courage to look K in the eye, or be within 5 feet of M. But I suspect that they'll get comeuppance eventually. Karma's a bitch. Heehee ;).

What You Feel Is What You Are, And What You Are Is Beautiful

Say what you will about Memphis (and believe me, I've said a LOT), but the music scene downtown isn't bad. The Broad Street Arts Fest was unreal. Street performers with purple hair, YoLo RVs, and artsy photos of men doing funny things. I always love this time of year. It sort of feels hopeful, like I'm getting a clean slate. Speaking of, I've begun reading this series of books called Sweep, that talks a lot about Wicca, and it's very fascinating to me. No, it is not devil worship, you ignoramuses. Honestly, it's all based on hippie ideas like loving nature and that whatever you take, you give. It seems really interesting. Might be an area of study for me. Oh my goodness, I can so see someone random from school reading this and saying,"Watch out for Rachel, she's apparently a witch now!" Well, sometimes I can be a word that rhymes with witch, but I promise not to cast any spells on you. Or, who knows, I could discover I'm a witch and start turning people into slugs or something. Actually, when it comes to a few people, that wouldn't be bad to watch. Such as Justin Beiber. Someday I will shave off his hair and sell it on eBay. He has it coming.