THE BLONDE HELIX

He said he don’t believe in regrets. Well, I regret to inform him, that I do. Rainfall on our apartment, this season is all year round. And this is our secret, for as long as we can keep it.

Nobody was ever as clever. Sitting in the room where we first got lost in one another, just sitting in the feeling of together we discovered. But it was scary to be even this close to a perfect fit, close your eyes, I promise this won’t hurt a bit. This is the kind of love that inspires the stuff I write my poems to. The kind of love you have to leave, just to come home to.

Now isn’t it funny how the ones that you drag all the way through your hell, are the same ones that can teach you to touch heaven as well? Regardless, we left it all out of order and this we know. You can’t put a square inside a circle and expect it to grow. So we held each others hands and we said goodbye, tears streaming down our eyes like somebody had died.

And today is the day after your birthday, and it’s pouring outside. And I’m sitting here by my phone’s side. He held her too tightly, her wings were broken and the love was strangled. And then he said, “I don’t want to hold you back girl, go fly. I can’t keep you out of the corners of the skyline.”

I woke from a nightmare this morning just as the sun was rising. The worst kind of nightmare. I usually let it effect my whole day, I become numb, motionless and dead inside.

The dream was about my father, the human being that I am most protective of. He is my rock and my strength. For some reason, this time, when I looked out my apartment windows, I saw the light and was not afraid. There’s something beautiful about the light in the morning that is cleansing and reassuring. I knew it was all going to be okay. (Whatever “okay” means…)

I feel like becoming fearless is one of the best things we can do for ourselves. I’m slowly starting to let go and the world is blessing we with endless opportunities. I don’t think the soul can go on without science + art.

(Photos by Kiara Jade. The artistic soulmate who I am blessed to have. We’ll be doing a photo show together in spring!)

Girls, you need to go out and dress #######SEXY  once and a while. Seriously, I’m being serious. It’s good for you. Doctors should probably prescribe playing dress up instead of anti-depressents… but i’m not a professional. (Yet…)

The trick!? Dress-up for YOU, not for boys. Whether you dress up like yous in the white girl mob or wear gym clothes daily, you need to take some extra time in front of the mirror once and a while to #getyourshittogether. When you decided to go out in your foxiest mini dress, biggest fur and highest heels, do it for you. Don’t ask yourself if “whats-his-fucking-name” would think you look hott or not. Dress up in what makes you feel good and beautiful. Draw a little extra attention to yourself once and while and and turn a few heads that you wouldn’t normally. And don’t worry about other girls calling you a #SLUT. They’re usually just mad because they can’t afford your shoes, and don’t look European. If you’re like me, you know how to fight… (I never hesitate to bring the h00d out on a bitch.) Besides, they are the ones who are sluts if they’re checking you out like that.

#GOSH

Today is the annual pro-life march in Washington D.C., held every year since Roe Vs. Wade (1973), made abortion legal for all 9 months of pregnancy. Fight 4 lyfe is foxy right? Go protesters? Freedom of Speech?

Totes, NOT foxy. Maybe it’s just my human experience, but I don’t think holding a giant sign with a dead baby on it is going to stop any woman from getting an abortion. In fact, you’re just going to piss her off. I’ve seen too many in battered women’s shelters in need of a clean and safe abortion. Taking something like that away from a women should be illegal. Sure, you may believe that the child has a right to life, but I believe the child also has the right to a safe and good life. There are far too many children in public services and government systems that don’t even have a fucking chance. Maybe it’s not enough to justify an abortion in your mind, but when did this become a public fucking issue?

A women has a right to her own body, we can prove that she ACTUALLY IS A HUMAN after all. I know there are a bunch of people waiting around for scientists to prove that, “LIFE MUST START AT CONCEPTION!!!!!!!!!” but let’s think about that one, the “soul” (if we even have one LOL) is not something scientific. It’s never something that’s going to be proven in a lab, like “Oh look, this little fertilized egg has really got a soul.” It may be a result of our extremely narcissistic culture, but how come we keep thinking we’re more than the some of our parts? A watch has a hand and a face, but you wouldn’t say there’s a soul in there.

Today, more and more neuroscientists are believing that we are merely the combination of our physical parts and our life experiences. There is no “part” in the brain where everything is pulled all together, where everything we’ve every experienced melts together to make sense like a good cheeseburger with our name on it. We keep on believing we are so special as humans, partly because we are so intelligent, but we can’t deny the fact that we are biological creatures.

And no, I’m not saying that I would ever have an abortion. To be honest, I don’t think I would. But that’s mostly due to the fact that I know I have a support system that would fill the little teeny bopper’s life with birthday cakes and trips to disney world. But for the women who believes that abortion is the answer, let me be the first to tell you that you’re not going to get through to her with your horrific pictures of dead fetuses and catchy phrases. So put down your motherfucking signs and try using the words that come from your heart, the heart that you so deeply believe in.

Fucking yentas. Seriously. Latin Name: Overbearing relentlus. Notable characteristics: bursting with good intentions, far too many. Sees every interaction as an opportunity to squeeze in advice about your love life/job search/pie recipe.

She’s told you twice now, so why aren’t you listening ? She honestly believes that not telling you which dish soap to use would be a crime. Although their empathy system is is clearly in over-drive, let’s give it up to the foxy yentas in our lives today… without them, we just wouldn’t know best.

On another note, I’m having a cozy blonde night here in my new pink topshop sweater. (I’m slowly learning the modesty game.) Just another Sunday where I’m torn between being a pop star and a med student. The solution? Play around on garage band recording covers of Jessie J and read the latest issue of psychology today.

Today my mom forwarded me an email. It was my therapist. He’s recommending me to another colleague. Likeeeeeee… WTF? That’s it? Our relationship is #over? I’m an unsolved case study? A manila folder with one too many sticky notes? Don’t make me get all #LISA from Girl, Interrupted on your ass.  So much for upper east side solutions. Whatever happened to enjoying a good challenge?

I guess that’s the difference between me and a lot of people I know. I love a good challenge. I enjoy difficulties. Maybe I fuck things up on purpose. And as little as this incident might seem to you, perhaps.. (why the fuck is she blogging about this is flashing through your cranium)…but this was truly a blonde light bulb moment for me. SOMEDAY, If and when I become a psychiatrist, I will never give up on a patient. Bring on the mental wards, the lost causes, the mentally ill children in  child protective services and the Skitzos. Seriously. A dream job for me would be working in a hospital’s mental ward.

BRING IT THE FUCK ON.

It is one of those days, seriously. I woke up in the worst mood ever and after boxing class, lifting and a 4-mile run, I still can’t shake it. Casanovas. It’s been a long and great first week of school, but I can’t wait to let lose tonight! Some socially therapy is definitely in need after spending these last two nights  cooped-up working on a article for a pre-med journal.

I swear the only thing that will get me through these next four hours of South African history class is that tonight I will be banging the shit out of the drums in a Metallica tee-shirt and lace thigh-highs. Drumming is almost as good as boxing, ALMOST.

So go out, get laid, get crazy.. you deserve it, you hardworking bitches.

xoxo,

Rachel Lynch

The title of this blog post has nothing to do with what I am about to tell you. It just so happens that I had a check-up today with my doctor. He’s all butt hurt because I’m still refusing to take medication for my ADD. But to me, adderall is unicorn meds. Works for some but I really don’t feel it’s my rainbow horn in the forest, (i mean cup of tea.) And, no girls, adderall and other notorious methamphetamines are NOT the way to achieve a thin body. It’s called a gym. And *BONUS* — you may even meet a hott boy there who is NOT an alcoholic.

Anyways, the question that we all need to ask ourselves when it comes to relationships is, AM I BEING REALISTIC? For example: Dating an alcoholic. Do yourself a favor, and don’t. Dating a famous closet alcoholic? Tempting, but again, we’re gonna have to pass. And being alcoholics together doesn’t make it any better. You can only tuck that one under the rug for so long before the fact that you may actually have to deal with (*gasp*) REAL LIFE hits you in the forehead like an on-coming school bus. But on the reals, addicts don’t make good mates. Addicts primary loyalty is not to the relationship, it’s to the addiction. Active addicts become cheaper versions of themselves and lose integrity. Not really someone you want to lean on.

So my fellow first-born blonde unicorns out there in the forest, let’s do ourselves a big favor and only mate with HEALTHY like-minded, goal-oriented unicorns.

(DISCLAIMER: I am wildly sober in the above photo. However, some of you may be on some #unicornshit and decline to believe me. FINE. Your opinions are like Lucky Charms to me, I only care about picking out the marshmallows.)

Time for chemistry class, BITCHES! Seriously though, the art of mating. If you’re like me, you’ve got a lot of boyfriends (and can’t buy anything on sale, #GODFORBID!) But really, gay boyfriends who double as best friends who double as pillows who double as fashion partners in crime and gym buddies is  quite possibly the best thing in the world. Because… A) All the CREEPERS dudes who were messaging you on facebook trying to take you to the Cheesecake Factory this Saturday night, you can tell to take a fucking hike because.. MY BOYFRIEND WILL BEAT YOUR A$$. B) When you’re actually out in public, you can hold hands and not have to worry about scary dirty hipster guys hitting on you in person. C) Duh, holding hands is so cute, and so #necessary when it’s fucking snow storming and you’re trying to navigate in 5 inch jeffery campbells. D) Everyone will be jealous. But really now….the first picture is of me and the bestest little boy ever (who saved me from falling flat on my face in knee-high campbells 3,48202189,248282 times this weekend) and he’s adorable, so you should all follow him on twitter.

But really girls, there’s no need to listen to Adele alone, eating half  an Oreo  in your room just because you got dumped for Demi Lovato. Get out there and get five new boyfriends who are just as fierce and fabulous as you.

Love you all.

Here are some photos I shot of my friend meghan in midtown. A little tribute to my part of manhattan, as un-trendy as it may be… it’s my hideaway

xoxo