Thank You, I Do Realize It’s Not 1997 Anymore

For the past two years, I’ve worn an insulin pump as part of my diabetes management. As wonderful a tool it can be, I’m finding the negative side effects affect mostly my social life. Guys, whether they be new friends or potentially more, have often made jokes about it, thinking that I still use a pager and am not hep to the smartphone age. Though, every once in a while, someone thinks I’m a doctor, which is initially flattering but then leaves me reeking of unfulfilled potential. But more often than not, the jokes are either allusions to drug deals or snobby critiques of my retro choices in personal electronics.

Attempting to show that diabetes can be sexy. Or, at least isn’t completely unsexy.

Painfully, Single

I find it a bit funny that The Great Depression began in the end of ’29, because as I turn 30, I can’t help but feel like my stock is plummeting.

Can’t Sleep, Clown’ll Something Something…

All my life, or at least as long as I can remember, I’ve had an odd relationship with sleep. When I was in single digits, I would curl up anywhere I damn well pleased to catch a nap. As I got older, and my mind got clouded with real-world thoughts, I found myself turning into a bit of a night owl. By the time I reached high school, I was a straight up insomniac. You may notice my Twitter handle is two35am; this was a result of being up late at night, trying to think of a new AIM screen name*, but finding everything I tried already taken, so I just entered the current time.