Clamor for Concerta, This is the Issue

What do I do with my time? Drugs?

Actually, I crave dopamine or fun or human interactions. Human interactions include word flows, also known as writing.

And we know, Rachel has a conversational handicap. YES. SHE. DOES. Get that through you f-ing minds, people.

As a side note, grabbing for my attention with words or door opening movements: Procede. With. Caution.

One solution to Rachel's conversational handicap is alcohol. No comedown. No bad space risk. Risk of loose lips, noticing I'm not sober, and maybe slight inhibition issues with a small but poignant tendency toward increased interest in sex.

MARIJUANA! EDIBLES! Does everything you want to do, calms the brain down, just makes me frisky sexually frustrated flirting with the mattress. Or wild worlds of fun, but flirt with the mattress one more time and I might grab someone and pull them down into it with me and they will cry. EDIT: Pull from a distance.

Concerta. Less interest in sex, more interest in putting words together. Enhanced well-being leads to relaxing with uncomfortable people and easier conversations in environments where the energy is terrible. Writing abilities enhanced. Increased interest in other people and interactions, with a tendency to isolate and picture read.

Meth. Best and worst option. Enhanced well-being, nothing to show for it, picture read all day and get skinny in one serving but happiness excells! Emptiness. Emptiness. Grab picture, empty, no increased interest in sex for Rachel.

Death: Why Not?

Reflections on death include first and foremost the deeply seated belief that I will die pretty soon.

I don't want to die right now. I want to procrastinate and procrastinate the death scene. I am enjoying being a celebrity even though no one tells me I am. I enjoy posting online, I enjoy conversations with spirit guides and all the radical topics that come up. I am having fun. When I'm not happy, I am struggling to function. There is no jarring sadness.

There is no question that I am on a God-ordained mission in my mind. No worries, legend status over time, with a finale that makes me stick around as a memory of the most important person ever, next to Jesus Christ. I have no worries that I will leave behind a distasteful memory of good ole Rachel Zuhl or Good ole Babylon.

I live entirely in the moment. However, even though I say that, I still crave some sort of "Grand Finale" to life. Maybe a marriage, a relationship, a happy social setting, a boyfriend (ha), or Jesus Christ returning. And I keep forgetting that Jesus Christ himself is scheduled to return sometime. I do not have access to the schedule and I will have to see it to believe it as well. Which is an annoying fact, I have the most faith out of everyone and even I will have to see Jesus Christ return to believe it is possible.

"There is no better feeling than completing a Conscious Mission.

That's what I look forward to, death, but I want to make the best of my time here. I am having a great time but it's also a constant struggle to keep sane.

Aaron: A Stands for [please stay] Away

Aaron was a dude who used to work at Pearl House. He left me feeling indifferent. That's how I feel about him except there are spells he keeps casting and they make me feel kind of Hugh, I mean, high, and fluttery. The spells feel nice and caring. They cast the allusion of caring.

Aaron is also African American.

You know, after the Black Power Brigade Debacle... Shit, I hope I didn't just light a racist fuse in America, looking at whatever that Coffee County news situation was and "arachnophobe." If that's the case, I sure am sorry I said anything about it on Facebook. That's all I did, mention a Black Power Brigade on Facebook. Yeah, so what?

Dude, if you asked me out I would say yes. And that's exactly how I felt about Jason too, see. If he asked me out, I would have said yes (prior to Woo Debacle). Dude, I don't know what to do. Are you just casting spells so you can come find me and say 'ha, ha!" I didn't push Christie and you know that. Everyone should know that or else I wouldn't have made the Black Power Brigade joke. The joke doesn't make any sense if I actually had pushed Christie. And I'm over that too.

Well, all is said and done. So, spells, yes. Then what? I have a couple pleasant memories of reading this guy's mind. He also had an attractive build, accurate pheromones and a face I have no recollection of, but I believe I would recognize him if I saw it again. So I say, why, the best option here is to apologize with a blow job for making a remark that could be seen as racist, and get in on camera because I like being in the limelight. But that's a joke too because I think my guides said one time sex tapes were bad publicity.

You are not ego observer. You just seem like the most jarring option of men in my mind due to a spell. Hey, want a BJ?

By the way, Biden I want to give you a BJ. Not really, but I would rather give you one then Donald Trump.

Which brings us back to the reason I'm not angry that Aaron got someone to cast a love spell. Also, he found a better witch than Donald Trump.

Tanner: A FUG (Fucking Ugly Gunk)

He's dumb. First he laughs his head off nervously whenever he's in my presence. Then he thinks I'm going to get attached to him because of his comment "fuck the police." Then, he tells me to commit suicide by taking a Trazadone.

Now, let's define the word dumb. It does not rhyme with gum. It sounds like numb, and it means nothing. Just wasted space.

Tanner is probably not his real name. I would imagine he would invent a pseudonym that reminded me of a beach bum because he looks like a surfer, and then he would be so so flattered that's a name I would remember when I'm only excited that he actually HAS a name I can REMEMBER!

REMEMBER RACHEL! You are posting a blog right now don't forget about Rebecca the movie!

Then, he won't let it go. Look dude, if you dropped topic, I would stop hating you for your stupidity and mind my own business, look here dude. He has to dress in a pink tutu to work and wear the words "Sugar and Spice" on a shirt. That was an inside joke between Jason and I as we converse after he is dead, that was the funniest part of the email diatribe.

I told him off for it, in a special way that you just had to be there to enjoy. Then, he wears a lucky charms shirt. Ooh, this guy must think he is getting lucky. Now, 11/11 as a birthday is a universal symbol of good luck. A Lucky Charms shirt represents getting lucky, and this guy is gross as all fuck.

Lesbian? No, I'm not a lesbian. Rubbing against other women makes me want to puke just thinking about it. God, that would be just the sickest thing in the world. Rubbing my genitals against another woman's genitals. I never want to do that in my life. I like dicks to some degree, so I stick to an official hetero label. Boobs draw the eye downward.

Also, Tanner's voice makes him look and sound stupid like his ugly face.

Funny. Do you know a Tanner?