You know, on that fateful night when I sat with my beautiful best friend's beautiful sister, listening to music and shooting the shit, and the term "love rhombus" came to me, I thought myself pretty god damn clever.

"It's brilliant!" I thought to myself with pride the next day. "The rhombus is such an overlooked geometrical shape, combined with the fact that 'love triangle' is such a well-used term, making a 'love rhombus' delightfully new and different and kind of sexy... - I'm a fucking genius!"

And then I Googled "the love rhombus". Do you know how much shit comes up?! A lot. Too fucking much. Apparantely I'm not as clever as I thought. Which is just totally ridiculous, because I am that clever. And you know what really hurts? This god damn blog isn't even included in the results! Like, why don't you get me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it? (Props to my main man, Miracle Max, keeping it real.)


So, like, welcome to 2006, right? What did you do on New Year's Eve??

Heh, like I care, here's what I did:

I went to a rave, go fucking figure.

But this rave was different, and, my darling wonderful companion and confidante, the Illustrious D, made a rather poignant theory as to why that was, which I will get to.

This was the first party I've ever attended with a mate, you see. And I didn't think that would make a difference, I truly didn't. As I've spent more time in the scene, become more accustomed with the atmosphere and the people and the drugs, my time at raves slowly became more about the music and the movement of my body to that music. Turning into this hot, free, wild thing, with my heart beating in time with the synthesized rythyms, and feeling looked at and alone, all at the same time. It was wonderful, and sure the bumps of E made it a little better, but I look back to when I first started, when chowing down as many pills as I could was the name of the game, and I really realize that the drugs played less a role in the whole experience now than they did then.

Thusly, I thought that going and dropping a cap or two, and just dancing the night away with my lover and my friends at my side would be SUPAR PHUN 2 TEH MAXX!!11!1! and not much different from the way it's always been.

But, wouldn't you know? - it was. Which isn't to say that it wasn't a good time, because it was. I mean it's a rave! Raves are always fun. And I mean I was READY for this party. I looked like a rock star, my boyfriend looked like a rock star, Illustrious D and Starlet A looked like rock stars; I did my drugs and was feeling pretty nice; I was armed with water and glow sticks. Everything was in place for it to be a spectacular night of epic proportions. But something wasn't clicking, I couldn't tune myself into the vibe, the electricity just wasn't there. A little under two hours of being there, I was ready to leave; we both were. So we did.

I came to the conclusion, fairly soon after our departure, that I was done raving. A fairly huge decision, and when I told N, he told me that I should take some time to think about it, and make sure it's really what I wanted. I spent most of today thinking on it from time to time, and I definitely connected my lack of real enjoyment of the party to N, but not in a negative way. It's just that for me there was always a certain... frivolity and promiscuity attached to raves, right from the beginning. Raves were like a manifestation of sex, and although they didn't always end in such a way, it was always in the air, and part of the excitement.

And that's what I realized, that raves weren't about the dancing and the drugs for me, they were about SEX. In one form or another. Well I mean, sex and drugs. So that's what was different. Just having N near me is enough of a sexual charge to satisfy my appetite, all-consuming as it is, and thusly the rave just sort of... fell short.

Now earlier this evening, at our weekly Sunday Night Coffee Date, D and I sat discussing our respective evenings. He had a fairly okay time - the music and the drugs and the people all having been good to him, but to his displeasure fell victim to a series of unforunate events later on in the evening that rather sundered his overall impression. Regardless, I told him of my retirement from the Rave Scene, and suprisingly enough he understood completely, and had an interesting take on why that might be.

"Raves are for people who are missing something," is what he said. "And it isn't that raves fill the void, necessarily, they just... give me something to keep my mind off it." I would never be so... proud and vain so as to think that I am not missing anything from my life, for truly the absurdity of such a thought is undoubtedly clear, but it did make me think. Ever since N came around, it seems as though I've done a lot of growing up. I rarely smoke weed anymore. I do a lot less stupid things. Even ecstasy didn't quite do it for me the way it used to. So maybe raves ARE for people who are missing something. And maybe if you're a raver and you're reading this, you should try to figure out what that something is and how you can go about getting it.

So, my point. My point is... I'm done ravin! Although D and I did decide that we'll probably hit a couple of the outdoor ones in the summer, but other than that... It was a good way to go out.


Now, I have two cats. One is fat and orange, and a drain on the economy. The other is grey and sassy, and totally a ninja. And he's a ninja because I'll be sitting on the couch, or in front of this here laptop, and he'll be nowhere in sight, and then two minutes later I'll look down and just - WHAM - he's on my leg. Seriously, we're talking mega-stealth skillz, it's fuckin insane. Miyagi-san would be t3h proud.


I think I am ready for my bed now. Oh my goodness, my mom TOTALLY cleaned my room a couple of days ago. Like how stupidly awesome is that? I come home for a couple of hours after having spent the last couple days totally ditching her for my boyfriend - and only so that she could braid my hair, I should add - and the woman's gone and cleaned the swirling vortex of death that was my room. Truly, she rocks the cazba. So now it's all pretty and glowing with those cool lights I have and OMG SHE EVEN SET UP A VANITY TYPE THING FOR ME TO DO MY MAKEUP AT SO THAT I STOP GETTING EYE SHADOW ALL OVER THE CARPET.

Yes I'm 14, go to hell.


AND, if any random person happens to cross paths with The Love Rhombus, and also happens to play World of Warcraft, I play on Kirin Tor, as Unaleska, a Night Elf Priest.


Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.