Do You Ask All These Questions Yourself?

OK, full disclosure, it is before 7am and I have been up for hours. I have not had Ambien in a couple days because I've been trying to get my tolerance down, but that also means that Benadryl is basically the only other option left in the cards for me. FYI if I have not already mentioned this, the active ingredient in Benadryl is the same active ingredient in like Unisom and all that other OTC shit they try to tell you will help you sleep. It's called diphenhydramine. I just saved you tens of dollars just now.

Also, why did Blogspot tell me that Benadryl is not a word but that Ambien is? Is it psychic or some shit? Because I was just about to say how Benadryl is not the truth. Like if p>q, then Benadryl is false and we reject the null hypothesis and by transitive property of made-this-whole-tautology-up, Benadryl is nonsignificant and stupid. (Guys, I hope you know I'm being ironic here. I actually is good at math and know both logic and statistics, which I hope was evident by the use of the word "tautology." Like honestly, when's the last time you heard that? I'm gonna try to integrate [oh shit, another math word!] "tautology" in my vocabulary more frequently. Except that I'm rarely logical unless...nope, I'm just rarely logical. Actually, that's all a lie. I USED to be good at math...you know I went to the Stuyvesantz and shit, so I had to know something. And BTW I never cheated there, because I know that's what you're thinking after all these cheating scandals...For the tests I knew I was going to fail, I just walked in with failure on my face and left with failure on my Scantrons. Which is what real students should do (fail? Again, the logic thing is lacking at the moment [read: always].) Anyway, the point is that I peaked at 13 in terms of basically all intelligence and it's been downhill since then. But don't tell my colleagues because people consider me one of the few people who can actually legit read scientific studies and understand confidence intervals and shit like that, so if they saw this, it could hurt my reputation.

OK, I may be lying again, but I think this could also be difference of opinion as follows...So chemistry kind of eluded me because I couldn't really decipher the accents of the teachers who taught it and I wasn't about to go HAM on linguistic nuances and shit because that would be rude, but I literally never understood what my teachers were saying. Anyway, I had this deal with my lab partner where he was the Master of Ceremonies for the Bunsen Burner and I would do the lab reports because I was afraid of fire. I always had this feeling of imminent burn victim in Chem lab. Is that cheating?

I still fear flames not excluding the Waka Flocka sort. People come to my house sometimes and they're like "is pasta burning?" And I have to tell them yes, because I have devised a system of lighting candles that involves me taking a strand of Barilla spaghetti (when I can afford Barilla...otherwise I have to settle for Ronzoni...which is not as good but has a hilarious name to make up for it...oh shit, I'm being culturally insensitive. I'll apologize for that later, but back to fire) and lighting it at the end (I JUST got over my fear of lighters like 4 years ago) so that I can light candles. Recap: sometimes my house smells like burnt pasta because I use long strands of spaghetti with a low risk of burning myself because spaghetti is long so that I can light candles.

Also, fuck a physics. None of that shit made sense ever. I almost didn't get like the special diploma "smart people" are sposed to get from my HS because I failed the Physics Regents by 2 points. TWO POINTS. Who the fuck else would that happen to? But then some physics geniuses were like "this test was flawed" and my diploma was saved. Except for the part where they spelled my name wrong. There were mad Korean kids in my HS so they put "Park" on my diploma and I thought it was so funny that I kept it. The DMV did not agree. Anyway, thank you physics geniuses...even tho we can never be friends, I am grateful for your wisdom of a pseudoscience.

Oh shit, there was a question at the beginning because AAI is "Ask An Insomniac" and that means it is based in questions. But the whole thing about not sleeping is that then I have thoughts that keep running and basically my bad. I'm actually a decent writer, but this blog is like my run-on sentence playground. I had a limited childhood, so please just let me have this. Thanks. So yeah, I do in fact ask a lot of these questions myself. But I also ask a lot of questions. That's why I have Dostoevsky and shit in my bookcase. I'm very proud of my book collection. Which is to say there is no Jane Austen in it.

This post is getting unnecessarily long, so thank you for reading it and obviously enjoying it. xoxo unless you have TB. Sorry, some of that shit is transmitted via spores and I am Irish so based on all history, I am OD susceptible to the consumption (yes, that is what they called it. They call alcoholism "the drink," since you were wondering). And also that shit doesn't go away; it's like pulmonary herpes. And I am lacking in the health insurance dept at the moment so like don't give me the consumption.

Why Can't You Just Eat a Lot of Turkey to Go to Sleep Tho?

I'm not tryna get some backwards-ass serotonin syndrome off some sleep attempt via turkey. Everyone knows that shit turns to serotonin with the quickness. And serotonin is not as friendly with the body as it would like you to believe....you take a benadryl by accident with an SSRI (JUST SAYING, FOLKS, HYPOTHETICALLY) and you might be assed out with the ill serotonin syndrome. One time that shit had serotonin syndrome hit me hardbody...I can't even explain this.

(FYI the active ingredient in this is benadryl aka diphenhydramine.)

Like take hypnagogia, which is literally the midpoint of consciousness and unconsciousness (let's not get into the sub vs unconsciouness debate right now, please)...so you think you're dreaming...but dreams manifest in physical actions...that one time I took cough syrup when I was on an SSRI--I'm not ready for pharmacy legislation conversation right now, altho I will say a pharmacist did not consult me on that shit. Tell me how I was convinced that I was a fish smoking a cigarette. I woke up like "ssswwooooo," "swooooo," inhaling fake smoke mad loudly on my couch because I was having another crazy hypnagogic hallucination. Like that type of shit is LITERALLY the basis for Fight Club. But you know, no one wants it simplified down to the comborbities of insomnia and SSRI-benadryl interactions (ie, serotonin syndrome). It wouldn't sell.

But yet HEAVEN FORBID I have OD congestion, B, and I would like to so kindly, Sir CVS Man, cop some pseudoephedrine. THEN SHIT GETS REAL OUTTA NOWHERE. "Miss, can I have your ID [where you look like the midpoint between Courtney Love and Charlize Theron in Monster], please? I need to take your information down [so I know you're not building a meth lab in your apt]."

(This is a really accurate picture of what my State ID looks like.)

...In New York City?! With my penthouse-status (read: lie) one-bedroom apt (read: truth tho) I somewhere am housing a meth lab because Congress can't get their shit together and keep adding pork into bills and not into my Cuban sangwiches at 3 am? BULLSHIT. I don't have the time for congestion or for a start-up drug cartel. 

(Please note the most important element of the Cuban sandwich, the pickle.)

Yes, folks, the reason you have to give up your ID to get the good decongestant (not phenylephrine...NOT phenylephrine...that shit is more useless than decaf coffee) is because of the Patriot Act, everyone's favorite bill. They added it so muhfuhs in Utah might could maybe not end up on the season finale of Intervention but the ones with like the sad knockout-type stories at the end... "Clayton Larry went to rehab for 4.3 hours. He relapsed shortly after") Like even if I did, Kickstarter is gonna get shut down with the quickness once the legislative bodies decide to read something...so no cartel for me...which is good, because I'm generally too tired to start one anyway!

But yeah, fall back on Turkey, let's talk about how the tryptophan in Turkey is negligible (yep, totally wrote "negligent" before I edited this...But at the end of the day, is turkey really looking out for you anyway?) compared to other foods.

Eg, via the world's most reliable reference, Wikipedia:
Tryptophan g/100g of Food

egg, white, dried		1.00
spirulina, dried		0.93
cod, atlantic, dried		0.70
soybeans, raw		0.59
cheese, Parmesan		0.56
sesame seed		0.37
cheese, cheddar		0.32
sunflower seed		0.30
pork, chop		0.25
turkey		0.24

What I'm tryna say is...Turkey ain't shit! Look at that up against the heavy hitters soybeans, parmesan cheese...did you see them in the gymnastics portion of the gymnastics? YOU SURE DID! Did you see how much those tired Russian chicks were falling like flies off the things they were born to do? Two of them didn't even know what a balance beam was...cuz they were fallin asleep after eating some eggs! FOOD CHARTS, FRIENDS....FOOD CHARTS.

Also, a reminder that eating turkey before you sleep will fuck with your neurotransmitters AND make you gain weight. Fuck you and ya whole tryptophan life.

Where You Been At Tho?!

I know I've been neglecting AAI. I'm sorry. It's been a combination of lack of sleep (just tryna stay true to the title of the blog, people).

Side note: I hate when people see how tired I am and then proceed to ask me how may hours of sleep I got. Like why is you in my business that heavy? Do I ask you how many calories you ate yesterday? Like if you're not gonna provide me with a food diary, you don't deserve my verbal sleep diary.

Worse is when I actually humor these sleep-privileged bastards and tell them how many hours I slept (ie, 3-4), and they're like (pretend there is an echo for this, because that is how I hear it...not only because sleep deprivation leaves me sensitive to sound, but because the reminder of how much sleep others get instead of me reverberates through my brain like in Lifetime movies when there is horrible foreshadowing of the evil husband saying something like "I would KILL for that much money...money...money" and you're like, "I get it. He will kill this woman for some moneyz. Thanks, foreshadowing!) "OH MAN, I CAN'T DO LESS THAN SEVEN OR EIGHT HOURS."

SLEEP PRIVILEGE. Yes, I opened the privilege door. With the exception of OD circles under my eyes and almost looking like a zombie, being an insomniac is an invisible minority--also cuz you're likely to never see us in daylight--so those who sleep are sleep privileged to me. Also can we talk about the people who are complaining about the people eating people's faces not getting sympathy because they're being called zombies? Their argument is that these face-eaters are mentally ill people who are not getting the help they need and are being stigmatized. As an insomniac, I can speak with moderate confidence on zombies, because we are the walking almost-dead. As a crazy person--excuse me, mentally ill person--I can definitely speak with confidence on mental illness and all the joys,confusions, and whatthefucks we bring to the table.

These face-eaters are not mentally ill--they are doing muthafucking BATH SALTS, which I did not know was a drug until like a few months ago and I was like, "Wow, that's kind of impressive that people are turning hygienic products into drugs and then looking like they are the least hygienic people in all of Dirtland."

These are bath salts. They go with washcloths and skin. Not up noses. I have placed these bath salts strategically in my bathtub so that the visual helps you associate where they are supposed to go, like when you're in a restaurant and you see those "Stop Choking" signs that are spelled out in too many steps for you to read so as to effectively administer the Heimlich maneuver in a reasonable time span (better hope the non-choking party can speed-read!), but help you associate someone placing one's hands on one's own neck with the fact that they are choking. (Leave it to Germans to make practically punching someone's chest cavity into a life-saving strategy.)

These are meth heads who had to step down on the drug finances because they couldn't afford the Cheetos they were once accustomed to. It's analogous to how people who become cokeheads have to step down their finances and step up their crackitude by moving to crack. Very simple. And yes, while there is a comorbidity with mental illness and substance abuse, this is not mental illness. This is an explicit choice to exfoliate their brain cells with bath salts instead of their dead skin cells. I never thought I'd be in a position to prefer crackheads over anyone else. The only pity I feel here is that bath salt heads (that's what we gotta call them now, right?) don't have the luxury of eating their choice from the crackhead food pyramid and have to just downgrade their whole gastrointestinal lives so that they only have to eat household products (and faces).

It is possible that they can still afford the question mark of the battery acid. And for those of you who think I'm being insensitive, this is real life. I'm talking about crackheads in New York--some of them are cool, some of them throw popcorn at you on the A train and make you late for work because the police have to get them off the train, and some of them punch through car windows to grab GPS systems to sell them to pawn shops and make you question whether the block you're living on is a sound choice. (Thank you, Giuliani, for helping alleviate some of this tho.)

Also, I'm a mental illness elitist--I will associate myself with only the finest of DSM diagnoses, thank you. These protesters are like the equivalent of Change.org subject headlines--make a real cause before you make a posterboard. You're taking away posterboards from kids who actually need them. And don't act like you were never in 5th grade trying to make a presentation about the constitution only to find out that the 99-cent store--which is intended to be like the emporium of posterboards--were somehow all sold out. If you're following my very sound logic, defending people who do bath salts and get called zombies in the name of prevention of stigma against the mentally ill is taking 10 points off social studies projects for 5th-graders. THINK ABOUT THE CHILDREN.

Why Can't You Get Your Sh*t Together?

Because I have mental diarrhea. So in the literal context within the figurative question you pose, I can't get my shit together. (I KNOW, SHE'S SO CLEVER!)

I have my shit together...mostly. But I'll tell you who doesn't: the Amish. I try to be a cultural relativist, but the fact that it's 2012 is not relative at all. It's a given. It's 2012. Why don't the Amish know this? I mean the best idea for them really is just to move to Williamsburg, VA, so they can walk around looking colonial and shit and not only NOT get judged, but potentially paid. The Amish need to step their hustle up. They need to make me their financial advisor. People would definitely pay to watch them till shit or whatever--WHICH THEY DO ANYWAY--but they'd get paid.

OMG and people are totally obsessed with their baked goods--which raises the question, How are ovens allowed? But that's neither here nor there because delicious treats supersede moral creeds, unless you're talking about Hummus, which has come to the forefront lately in the context of middle Eastern conflict. People need to fall the fuck back over some chickpeas.

Oh, also, coffee is also not exempt from moral concerns, cuz a lot of shit goes down and it's hard out here for a coffee bean farmer. And like they do not NEARLY get the money they should be getting for their hard work, so like go out and buy free trade coffee and shit. It costs more, but if we don't incentivize (BY THE WAY, Blogger is telling me that's not a word, but I see it in advertising ALL THE TIME.) coffee farmers to produce the coffee, we are gonna be ASSED OUT.

If you think about it, coffee farmers are indirectly responsible for at least 85% of the world's productivity. Am I Right?! Like think about all the people you know who CAN'T DO SHIT until they've had their morning Joe (why do they call it that?! Although I guess it would be pretty sweet to have the same nickname as coffee. Poor Richards out there...). Obviously I am part of that population because if you take the Venn Diagram of insomniacs, coffee drinkers are a natural subset. That is my Venn Diagram reference of the day [look, Venn's ancestors hit me with a percentage every time I publicize their diagrams, so I am obligated to mention them every now and then...like literally, EVERY NOW AND THEN...not only now...or then, for that matter. Don't hate on my obscure side hustle.] Ultimately, the point is that coffee farmers are the quietest healers of the world and no one took a minute to stop and think about that until just now. YOU'RE WELCOME FOR THE SUPERIOR PERSPECTIVE, btw.

So yeah, the Amish need to get their shit together. Or at least stop abusing their children and then shunning them when they grow up and wanna leave like, "You know what, the gene pool here in my community isn't looking so great and I wish the same recessive gene that causes fucked-up diseases wasn't a marker in 99% of my cousins. Even though my what-year-is-it-exactly clock isn't ticking, my Darwinist clock is totally ticking like a Connecticut deer (OMG GET IT?! TICKING?! It's OK, I had Lyme Disease before, I can make these jokes. Right? Cuz the risk of rheumatoid shit is still there for me as long as I live. Stupid bugs.). I need to get out of here so I can find an ideal mate who won't cause another inevitable Trisomy for my offspring. Also, I need to get in on this Generation Y work ethic that I've been missing out on in this field."

Because then the once-Amish go on Dateline NBC and fuck up shit for the WHOLE COMMUNITY by talking about how they cursed that one time they stubbed their toes on the wheel barrel and then got a needle stuck through their tongues as punishment JUST BECAUSE THEY CURSED. And people who used to be Amish are like the snitches to end all snitches. They don't give a fuck because their family doesn't have TVs so they're gonna bank on their peoples in Lancaster never seeing the shows where they snitch. (Ooh, I hear the Mister Softee truck outside!!!! Yet ANOTHER joy the Amish will never know! :( :( ) But even if someone cheated and did see the show, then THEY'D have to be shunned too. So the Amish are really digging themselves a pretty big hole here. I'm telling you, before Chris Hanson started telling people to sit down, there were the Amish diming their people out and discovering the excitement of AOL Instant Messenger for the first time.

What it all comes down to is that you need to focus more on whole groups of people who need to get their shit together instead of just me. I just need to get my sleep shit together. I'm doing other stuff that's pretty cool or whatever, so I'm good. But I guess also people with Crohn's disease and Celiac disease ask themselves this question every day. SO SAD. Luckily, there's Humira!

What If God Was One of Us?

Thank you, L'izz, for this fantastic question. But I think you mean "What if God WERE one of us?" CONDITIONAL VOICE E-SLAP.

Hm, I'm Irish Catholic, so God kind of is one of us. Except that he's not because He's God. This never made sense to me because it's like politicians who are like "we're the people's politician" but then they eat filet mignon that's suspended in the air using technology that hasn't even come out yet because they're above having waitstaff so they get served from the future. Like you're either relatable or you're not.

Like OK I can relate to Jesus because he wears sandals and gets hungry, too. But then He comes back from the dead and shit and I'm totally lost on that. Like I could throw on some sandals and forget to pack a lunch and that's pretty devastating, but then I can't like unheatstroke myself or Lazarus other people on command. If I die, that's it. I wonder if there's sleep in Heaven? Or do you not need sleep? But man, imagine the kind of quality nap room they'd have in Heaven? And the beds are EASILY Sleep Number beds because I don't think they have budget cuts in Heaven like they do in public schools. Like they don't need to raise the debt ceiling because it's Heaven so they have the highest-quality pillows and sleep is in abundance.

I mean I guess other people probably talk about how good the food must be in Heaven, but they're not taking into account the itis that will immediately follow those meals and how sleep is going to be the most important thing. Or do you think you just float in the air to go to sleep? In my version of Heaven, St. Peter measures your sleep number at the pearly gates. And then you don't have to walk up a stairway because I HIGHLY DOUBT that Heaven's home address is at the top of a walk-up. Like Heaven can obviously afford an apartment with an elevator that wasn't built in like the pre-Jacob Riis tenement era. I bet they have central air, too and don't have to call their super when their hot water is mysteriously turned off in the summer at least three times every year even though I thought only extreme cold would fuck up the boiler. Like is there some form of anti-anti-freeze that you need in the summer months? Like why am I paying rent if I can't get basics?! I mean hypothetically...in heaven.

Anyway, the wording of this question is like we're in a gang. What if God were a blood? What if God were a Jet? OMG God would totally be a Shark btw because you know salsa came from God Himself. Jets are cool, but they smoke the most cigarettes and I don't think God would be down with that. Also the Jets fuck with the cops and I think God is smarter than that because cops don't give a fuck because as much power as God has, cops are somehow untouchable. I bet if the NYPD beat God up, they'd get off free. And there would be a protest maybe and Commissioner Ray Kelly would come out and try to defend the NYPD and at MOST God would end up with a small settlement, but the cops would still have their jobs.

When I was little, I think I always liked Jesus more than God, which didn't make any sense. But God seemed like he could be a negligent father at times, so I was like "I don't know. I need a God where I can count on your weekly child support payments." Like sometimes God is like "You just have to have faith in your father" and then like you can't afford to buy books for school and you have to peer over your friends' shoulders to get the answer to subtraction question 7 in second grade. Faith won't buy my math textbooks is what I'm getting at. But mostly he let people taunt Jesus with vinegar when He was thirsty and asking Pops for help and God was basically like "ask your mother."

RECAP: God can either be one of us or be God, but both is confusing. God would get beat up by the NYPD. God might be an incompetent father. Heaven has Sleep Number beds.

What's In Your Freezer?

Vegetables and Vodka, which will also likely be the title of the memoirs I'll never get around to publishing.

The vodka is on rotation, but I'm pretty much a Green Giant loyalist. Yeah, it's the most expensive one, but I don't go to spas or do expensive girl shit, so this is where I splurge. Also, sometimes, I'll be on my Popeye and (mmmm POPEYES IS ALSO DELICIOUS, SIDE NOTE) eat a box of spinach and try to go to sleep, so that's like a whole meal.

No, my diet makes no sense. But I got free radicals to kill and broccoli has like OD antioxidants. I'm on the OG effective wrinkle prevention. And I don't know chemistry but I do know that people who only eat organic shit or mad expensive produce from Half Foods (read: Whole Foods) are full of shit. Ie, like how do you really know that shit is organic? And also, can you define organic for me? HOW ARE ALL VEGETABLES NOT ORGANIC ALREADY?! Like advertising that vegetables are organic as if it's something special leads me to believe that you have like changed the genetic makeup of said vegetables to create like super mutant vegetables. And like there's a Professor X of vegetables and the whole town marginalizes these mutant vegetables and so then of course there is the dark side of vegetables like a Magneto Cauliflower or something and they try to destroy the original mutant vegetables because they really just hate themselves like internalized speciesism. But for vegetables. I was gonna play around with the idea of autobot vegetables, but maybe that will be for another post.

So back to how I was judging people for eating only "organic." Unless you are picking these veggies yourself, you don't know where they came from. Like stray cats. You don't know where they went or what diseases they picked up along the way. Like they could be in Petco marketed as the "organic" shit of cat breeds but actually be stray cats. Right, so let's assume that these are stray vegetables. Like stray cats, they need to be saved and nurtured also. So why not in my freezer? (Vegetables--not cats. I'm not a sociopath. There are no cats in my freezer. I'm just an insomniac with a string of bad analogies and also string beans.)

I haven't warmed up to Brussels sprouts, but admittedly they've made no effort to look more appetizing to me, so that's on them. They could easily have a safe home in my freezer, but instead they look like the chicken nuggets of vegetables. Like someone took all the gizzards of vegetables past and assembled them into a green sphere of mystery. Also, they taste bad.

Oh, and ice. There is also some ice in my freezer. Ice and chlorofluorocarbons, which are like the free radicals of the ozone layer. Sorry, ozone.

Have You Tried Hot Cocoa?

www.rillitho.com? Cocoa has caffeine in it. Also, sugar. Together, synergistic effect of wakefulness. Why do you want me up all night? What have I done to you that we've gone straight from stupid questions to bad ideas?

Tip: It's actually recommended that you not drink caffeine after 12 pm to sleep better. Of course, the paradox is that in being an insomniac, you basically need intravenous caffeine to stay awake throughout a normal day, but this is what "the people" say.

I have a 3 o'clock rule that I know other insomniacs adhere to as well; noon is just asking too much. That's normal-people cutoff.

Also, what is this warm-liquid-as-remedy trend? We've already examined this issue of hot drinks at bedtime.

Honestly, tho, who has hot chocolate before they go to bed?

What Do You Do When You Can't Sleep?

Try to sleep. Insomnia=not sleeping. It doesn't mean getting shit done in spite of no sleep.

There's no such thing as productive insomnia. That's just mania, and anyone who tells you they do shit when they can't sleep is bipolar on the quiet tip.


Note: If you can't sleep, you're actually not supposed to lie in bed for more than 15 minutes because then you start to associate your bed with the inability to sleep (a la behavioral conditioning).

What Is The Best Cheese?

OMG, this sounds like a question I made up.

Because it is.

But honestly, think about your favorite cheese and how fantastic it tastes when you can't sleep. If you can't sleep, you might (may=present tense) as well take joy in the cheese available to you. First-world problems aside, let's talk about our palates right now & how much better they get when the perfect cheese is made available to said palate. Also, let's think about how I am an editor for a living and also have a narrow-ass palate, but had to look up "palate" so I could spell it correctly so as to deliver proper unsolicited advice to you.

Swiss cheese, son.

Swiss.

More specifically, good Swiss cheese.

If you "broke" (like you can't go to elite cheeseries that I'm sure rich people have a real name for), Kraft singles is all I have to say. I was the total opposite of disappointed. This cheese changed Green Beans (capitalized now because that's how upside-down my world is with this new cheeese [yes, 4 e's]); it's like the poor man's (read: Cheese Man's) Faberge Beans (they are melted on top of my Green Giant delectables).

Maybe it's like years of Switzerland's being neutral in times of war, but this shit is the truth. I bet I won't even fart because this shit was orchestrated by the baby Gabriel hisself, who won't even care that I misused a pronoun just now.

 Yessir. That was a shout to Pharrell, my favorite producer, who also must eat Swiss cheese before he drops world-topping beats, because this shit is inspirational, son. I'm gonna go learn how to play the flute like immediately.

Swiss Cheese. Fin.

"Have you tried warm milk?"

What do you mean "tried" it? I used to get that shit from Starbucks with a shot of hazelnut. Shit was delicious. That was during my youthful high school days.

Before that, I was breast-fed. So yes, I've tried warm milk.

Do you mean for sleep? Like will this somehow lull me to sleep? Because I have to go through the whole process of warming it up. And when I'm up in the middle of the night with no sleep, my motor skills are impaired.

This leaves me with having to worry about two things: 1. Exploding milk in the microwave. 2. Third-degree burns from milk up-splash from cooking it on the stove.

Let's say I get the milk warm successfully. I am old now. Lactose is just not the same as it used to be.

Have you ever farted yourself awake?

Explanation of "Ask An Insomniac"

In my 10+ years as an insomniac, people seem to have OD questions for me. I will take all of them. I may not answer all of them, whether due to sleep deprivation or straight-up I don't wanna.

Check it out though. Mad insomnia. Ask me questions.