Needless to say, I’m writing this after waking up for no reason at 5:30 am.

1.) The “I think I’ve woken up” dream.

This has come to bite me on the ass on several occasions, and I’ll go through periods where this happens on an almost daily basis. In a sleepy, unconscious stupor I either turn off my alarm or end up ignoring it – but as I drift back to sleep I have a very clear, vivid dream that I’m waking up and doing my morning routine.  The thing that throws me off the most is there is NOTHING weird about this dream. I wake up, brush my teeth, take a shower, etc. I then actually wake up, always having overslept, confused because I’m still in my pajamas (or dirty t-shirt, whatevs) thus making me late for whatever it is I need to be doing.

2.) The “random celeb is my bff” dream.

Most recently it was Tracy Morgan – I dream that we are best friends (or sometimes dating) and when I wake up I am thoroughly bummed out that they aren’t my bff and I develop an unhealthy obsession with this person.  Me actually having any real interest in anything this person person represents is completely irrelevant, and usually I can’t stand that I wake up wanting to send them texts and go to brunch or other lame things best friends do together.  This has happened with Kelly Osbourne and Kevin Smith and I can recall a dream where Jason Biggs was my boyfriend.  Thankfully this false idolization subsides after a few weeks.

3.) The “this is the most stressful part of my day” dream

Considering that sleep tends to be a form of relaxation for most people, and a way to unwind after a shitty day – there is nothing that bums me out more than having a dream that just replays the shittiest situation of the previous day only slightly exaggerated. This happened a lot when I was a server and would have shifts where I’d spend the entire 6 hours in the weeds. I’d go home, fall asleep, and dream of the exact.same.situation.

4.) Related; the “this is a better way your night could have panned out” dream

So, then I think I’m pretty safe if I have a chill night – not great but not bad in the slightest.  I go home, and dream of the day panning out in approximately the same way it had been, only with slight moderations that would have taken a so-so day to an awesome day.  Finding money on the street on the way to class, being told I’d be getting a raise, dude I have a crush on being exceptionally nice/flirtatious, etc.  Then I wake up, having to sort through what was the actual day and the dream day, and I realize my day wasn’t so good after all and general bummed-outedness ensues.

5.) Nightmares.

Yeah, no shit.

6.) The “I dont actually know what I’m dreaming but it’s making me laugh like a crazy person in real life” dream.

Want to successfully creep out anyone who may be sharing a sleeping space with you? Try maniacally laughing in your sleep. I’ve been told by several people I giggle in my sleep on a fairly regular basis, which could maybe go under the “cute” category.  Then, there is the occasional night where I will laugh so hysterically that I will even wake myself up, and effectively weirding out anyone who may be within hearing distance (and myself).  For the times that I’ve woken myself up, I can never remember what I’m dreaming.

List to be edited as sleep continues to try and sabotage my favorite 7-8 hours of my day.

DO NOT forget about how she pulled down her pants in front of you and projectile peed with her vag hanging out in the middle of the sidewalk.

I’ve been feeling kind of neat, these past few months.  Aside from the fact that at this very moment I can’t sleep and I have a full day planned tomorrow.

I didn’t realize how negatively the relationships I had been in affected me.  I’m 24 and for the first time in five years I feel like I’m being myself and figuring out who I am. I’m coming out of my shell.  I’ll always be awkward, but I’ve been able to maneuver around the shyness and use the awkward to a type a charming advantage.

I felt a little lost right after the break up, and I felt incredibly lost a few months after – when all of my insecurities were being exploited by a bitter and childish human being.  I’ve done some stupid things in order to figure my head out (and boy have I felt like shit some days, going over the mistakes from the night before in my head). I’m sure I’ll continue with this trial and error method of living life as I pick and choose what morals take precedent over others.  It’s hard to do in this city.  I’m in a constant battle with the me that wants to live an altruistic and selfless life, with a me that wants to explore and embrace the hedonistic side of myself while I’m still at a point in my life where it is somewhat acceptable.

I have noticed this city changing me in ways I don’t like.  I’ve become more aggressive.  I rationalize selfish acts by comparing myself to others.  This is a trait I hate in others, and it bums me out that I’ve noticed myself doing it.  To balance it out I attempt to do something truly selfless, but ultimately I think I’m just in survival mode – and I am unfortunately in a place where surviving means that sometimes the better choice is to do something selfish.  Although, the fact that I’m aware of this and that ultimately I want to be a giver and not a taker means I’ll reach the end of that path eventually – just feeling some guilt is all as I balance on the tightrope.

I live with my friend in a small apartment, where my bed overlooks Brooklyn and there is a fire escape to satiate my voyeurism and have a cigarette.

Things feel good here.

After my body adjusted to taking the hormones, I really was fine.  I was INCREDIBLY sleepy after starting the second shots but I tend to revolve my life around sleep anyway so it wasn’t the hugest inconvenience.  On two occasions I accidentally fell asleep, one resulted in me waking up in the student lounge on campus really confused and having missed class, the other resulted in a train ride to Harlem.  Everyone hears horror stories about someone they know donating their eggs and them going crazy, gaining weight, having terrible cramps, etc. and I suppose I was lucky that none of that happened to me. 

After putting on my hairnet, footies, and hospital gown, I’m sent to the room. Mazzy Star is playing, and it helps me feel more relaxed since I have my legs in stirrups with a room full of people (mostly men) and my ladyparts are all exposed.  The doctor comes in… “Hi, I’m Dr. Soandso and I’ll be the one poking you today!” I giggle and respond with an “…uhhh.” Stuck with an I.V., another doctor tells me “You’ll be falling asleep now….” and thats pretty much the last thing I remember. I wake up in another room, mildly crampy, hearing The Smiths. The first thing I say is “How many eggs did you get?!” and then “…..I like your music….” and the doctor gets excited I complimented his music taste. As I’m in the recovery room I also hear Portishead and Cocteau Twins. Seriously, best way for me to recover. I was in there for about 20 more minutes (awake) and overall the whole thing took about 90 minutes. It was painless, easy, and everyone was super nice.

This whole experience has been a breeze, but I don’t know that I’d recommend it to everyone. I don’t know how other clinics are (I used Center for Women Reproductive Care at Columbia University and everyone there is amazing, helpful, and kind), and I don’t know how other ladies will take to the hormones.  But really? Best way to make $8,000 while also feeling like you’re giving some anonymous lady an awesome gift.

This is a really good interview with Kathleen Hanna.

I got very wistful watching this, I forget how important Bikini Kill/Le Tigre/thinking I was a riot grrrl meant to me when I was in my teens.  

I remember when I saw Le Tigre for the first time at 9:30 club.  I was dumbstruck with excitement, a feeling like I belonged in this particular movement.  I came early and Kathleen Hanna walked past me and I just stared at her with my jaw dropped open. I danced insanely (to the point where my boob popped out of my shirt) and I left feeling SO inspired. I wanted to be active in the feminist and queer community, I wanted to be apart of the changes that were happening and needed to happen.  It’s refreshing to look back at how bright eyed and hopeful you are as a teenager, but it bums me out that I never really did much with all that stirred up motivation. It’s also really strange that that was nearly a decade ago.

I’m about 10 days in of a 30 or so day process, and every day around 6pm I give myself a shot in the leg thats got some kind of hormones in it, and in a few more days I will be making a trek to Columbia University at 7am to get another shot for two weeks.
So far, this has all been a pretty smooth process.  The shots are easy, I keep it with me in a cooler when I can’t be home and as far as side effects go, at worst my boobs have been sore and my skin is a little broken out.

Today was absolutely the worst day so far, and I really hope it doesn’t progress into me turning into a crazed monster before the 30 days is up. After my 6pm shot I got a little jittery and got some fries and a burger (who wouldn’t feel better after a burger and fries) and I made my way to my calculus class. Within this 75 minutes, I went from freezing cold, to hot and sweaty, to cold and sweaty, to nauseated, to PROFUSELY sweaty, to salivating in anticipation of puking, to having cluster headaches.  While my body was confused and flu-like, my mind was going from sad, to angry, to “WHY DO ALL MY FRIENDS HATE ME?!”, to calm, to “WHY AM I EVEN IN COLLEGE WHEN THE WORLD IS ENDING IN 2012 ANYWAY!?” to wanting to cry, to “WELL FUCK TAXES I’M JUST GOING TO GO OFF THE GRID!” 

Needless to say I quickly bolted out of the classroom and called my boyfriend on the verge of tears. 

The doctors said mood swings were a side effect, but really now? REALLY NOW? Until I see how I handle the next few weeks, I think I am safest locking myself in my apartment and staying away from all people I care about in an effort to not burn any bridges or accidentally kill someone.

Mammoth Talon

“claws are carved out of 10-30,000 year old fossilized siberian woolly mammoth tusk bark. the cuff is oxidized solid sterling silver, with 6 small black diamonds set as a triangle on the palm of the talon. limited to 14 pieces, numbered in scrimshaw on one of the claws.”

www.bonadrag.com