Indigo Gets an IUD!

9 out of 10*
*Experiences vary, please talk to your gynecologist for the method that will work best for you!
Pairs well with a nice stout. I recommend Guinness, because it lasts a long time and gets the job done (for me).

A hand with an IUD in the thumb and forefinger. The IUD is a white T-shape with a slightly curved lid.
Image courtesy of

So today, I have something that’s part education and part review. I’m going to talk about my IUD and how much I love it. This isn’t a sponsored post. I just really love the method of birth control that worked for my body. I found this method by talking to my gynecologist about it, and there are many choices. Something else may work better for you! That’s awesome because bodies are different!
So first, some background! I am diagnosed with PCOS. If you want to know more about those experiences, I suggest reading this article I wrote! I was on “the pill” to mitigate those symptoms, but I was worried about how it affected my body and moods, so I talked about it! I found out how Mirena works, and I was really excited to let my body take over again.
So when you’re on oral birth control, it has to move through your whole system to get to your uterus. As a result, it’s common for folx to have other reactions such a weight gain and hair loss. In my life, I experienced a bit of weight loss, then a lot of weight gain, some mood swings and a lot of hair loss. As it turns out, my mood swings and hair loss are just my body, but I’m glad I found that out by stopping the pill.
A diagram of a uterus with a Mirena IUD placed.
Image courtesy of

By contrast, an IUD is placed in the uterus, so all the hormones it uses are a tiny fraction of what is in the pill. Instead of traveling all over the body, it travels only a few inches to reach it’s target because it lives in its target! So the hormonal changes most people experience are minimal.
My gynecologist had me stay on the pill through insertion, which is somewhat rare. Typically, they want you to be menstruating, but she said it was fine, and I trusted her. I’m glad that I did because I feel like it has a lot to do with how good my experience is. I went in to for the insertion and this is the only negative part about IUDs. I felt like I was getting probed by an alien. Not in a fun, kidnapping, tie up, gang bang, alien scene kind of way, but in an awful, painful, alarming way. (Though, that alien scene sounds kind of fun now.) I sat at the office for an extra 15 minutes trying to get color back into my face and move again. It took maybe a minute, but it was so weird and painful.
After I left the office, I went immediately to a friend’s house, sat on her couch and whined about how my uterus was trying to kill me. The cramps were pretty bad, but they slowly got better after watching two movies and eating some food. By the next day, I was mostly pain-free. A few twinges here and there, but I assumed it was my body getting used to this foreign object. By the next week, I had forgotten that it was there at all, except that I no longer took pills every day.
Some other folx I know had cramping for months after insertion of an IUD, so I really want to emphasize that stories vary. I have found overwhelmingly that my friends had an average of 1-2 months of cramps and found them to be TOTALLY WORTH IT. I have yet to meet anyone who did what my doctor had me do (staying on birth control through the insertion). I somewhat suspect that the reason cramps didn’t last long for me was staying on birth control. I don’t know the science behind that, so I may be completely off base. Again, talk to your provider about what is best for you.
Since getting an IUD, my body has leveled to it’s own. My testosterone levels are high again, which means I have some extra acne and facial hair. I use a topical medicine for the acne and I flaunt my boi-beard. I have noticed a bit of weight gain, but that has more to do with depression and eating habits than with my hormones. My moods have mostly stabilized with time and therapy. I even stopped having periods at all, which is common enough with IUDs (about 1 in 5 according to my gynecologist).
Overall, my birth control was preventing my body from being androgynous, which was great when I wanted so badly to be a better female. But now that I’ve found my gender-fluid identity, I’m more than happy that my body runs wild. It always surprises me; these little ways that the universe always knew what I was and I never did.

Indigo goes to Woodhull 2017

12 out of 10, because fuck da police. I do what I want.
This year, I was presented with the opportunity to volunteer at Woodhull Sexual Freedom Summit, which is hosted by the Woodhull Freedom Foundation. I was thrilled to have this opportunity not only because I’m an aspiring sex therapist and blogger, but also because I am a sex enthusiast. I heard about the summit from Epiphora’s site originally, and I was like “That sounds cool! I’ll go if I can swing it!” Who knew it would happen so soon?
I wish I could explain how it felt walking in. Instead, I’ll have to explain the actual events. When I walked up to the desk, someone asked my name so I could collect my badge.
“I’m Indigo.”
And a lovely woman standing at the desk turned around and said “Indigo! I’m Luna from Ninjasexology! Let’s go to the blogger lounge!” And so it was that I was swept away and meeting people that I’d only seen (and admired greatly) on Twitter. After meeting so many amazing folks all at once, I was fairly overwhelmed, but it was only the first day and I had a Meet’n’Greet to help with.
Since it was being hosted by Lilly (of Dangerous Lilly) and Suz (of Red Hot Suz), I got to meet them too! I thought I would meet these folks in a year or more of blogging, and I certainly never thought they would know my name after one day. But here we are now, and I’m friends with these amazing folks, and I didn’t fangirl once. Or more than once, anyway.
Since I wasn’t staying in the hotel, I had to drive home every night. Looking back, I realize now that it was good for me to have that this time. I felt that this drive centered me every night. I could call my love and tell him what I did, and really hash over all my emotions. It was very nice. Also, if I didn’t physically leave, I probably would have stayed up all night talking to these humans who are as enthusiatic (if not more so) about sex as me!
On Friday, my highlight was definitely watching the Blog Squad destroy a terrible panel on sex toy safety, which Ruby posted about later that week! I was a little burned out after a cool panel on making a sex conference and socializing, so I watched the Blog Squad through twitter and I cheered at every vicious tweet!
Somewhere in there, I heard about #fistmas, and planned to attend. Alas, I was very tired and went home early instead. However, I heard that my good friend Sugar was thoroughly satisfied, and I am DELIGHTED for them.
Saturday proved one of the most amazing days for me. I volunteered early on for a talk from Ducky Doolittle about the sexual health of foster kids, and I expected it to be really good, but I did not expect for it to light a fire under my ass and want to work as hard as possible on the next stage of my career. Ducky’s talk was not only eye-opening, but it was encouraging and educating. I learned a lot of facts that I didn’t know before and the way she presented them was in a way that told me exactly how I can help. As someone who pursues their career specifically to help others, this is the best way to impart information. I tweeted out so many good quotes from this. (Please ignore my typos. You still can’t edit tweets…)
After this talk, I was a little drained, and instead of being productive, I colored a lot! It was a much-needed rest from the hard thinking and truth-bombs of the morning. After I was done coloring, I did a puzzle and Suz helped!
And then it was suddenly time for another volunteer shift, which was nice for socializing, but not necessarily worth writing about. So I’ll fast forward to Spanks-giving!
Much like we had Fistmas on Friday, I decided that this party should be named Spanksgiving in honor of out lovely holiday theme for names. In this party, I was hit by two folks that I do not have a romantic relationship with. That was a first for me. In the past, kink has been tied to sex by nature. However, in my current monogamish relationship, I am allowed to have some kink scenes outside of our bedroom. It was eye-opening to be dommed by folks who are so experienced, and bred trust so easily with me. I have much exchanging of information to do with boyfriend so that I can bring new things in to our dynamic and I’m really excited. We are still budding in our dynamics and relationship, and I’m excited to find more with my long-term partner.
Sunday was definitely the hardest of the days. Most folx left early, but I got to say goodbye to almost everyone. It was so great to watch all these people kissing and making out as a farewell. The openness of humans never ceases to amaze me. I’m so closed off and I don’t trust easily, so I adore it when other folx are open and loving. I could go on for ages about this, so let me just do a quick wrap up instead.
Woodhull was amazing for one main reason: Everyone there was so open and welcoming. I don’t think I’ve ever made friends in a group faster than the bloggers at Woodhull. And not just folx I’ve interacted with like Taryn, Bex, and Epiphora. I made contacts with folx that barely knew I existed like Carly, Emmeline, and Luna! (No offense, friends. I don’t get out much, which is why I didn’t know you existed.)
Next year, I hope to return to Woodhull and stay in the hotel. I want to connect with folx in a deeper way and really make some new friendships. I also hope to get some sponsorship so that I can really live it up and party more (Hey companies, hit me up next time).
If you went to Woodhull this year and wanted to connect more, let me know! I’m on Twitter all year long! Did you have a good story I missed?

How to Take Care of Your Pet Blogger During Con-Drop

Hi folks! This is definitely not a routine post for me. (There are no review numbers, so obviously, Indigo. Thanks for the warning?) But I did not have a routine week this week. In fact, I  took my routine, crumpled it into a ball, set it on fire and threw it under a bus.
This week, I went to Woodhull Sexual Freedom Summit here in D.C. I had the best time hanging out with ALL THE COOL BLOGGERS. I do in fact have so much to say that I will be writing a really long post about it in the next few days. But that’s not what I’m writing today. Today, I will be writing about con-drop, which is very real and very hard.
But what is Con-Crop?
See, here’s what happens. When you send your blogger off to a con like Woodhull, they get to meet and interact with a lot of folks just like them; passionate about sex, sexuality and all these other things that may or may not come up in their lives at home. Sometimes, they play with others, and sometimes they don’t. But either way, they are where they want to be for that weekend, and making a difference in the world. When your blogger comes home to you, they seem sad, though. Why? Well, that’s con-drop.
Coming from that environment into daily life again is very hard. You have to retrain yourself to talk to folks who might not interact with fisting, sounding or pegging as words or concepts. You have to rein in your enthusiasm again to prevent people from staring at you in the supermarket. Additionally, you won’t see a lot of your favorite folks until next year, when Woodhull happens again. (Unless you schedule something specifically, and then will everyone be able to make it?) Coming home also means going back to work, doing laundry and generally not being able to hang out in a blogger lounge and watch folks laugh about obscene things.
So what can you do to help your pet blogger recover from Con-Drop? Well, I call this reCONvery, and I’m here to help.
ReCONvery 101
First, be prepared for the return of your blogger. Make sure the bed is made, and the water is hot for a shower. It’s important that they shower because con germs can spread quickly. If they have clothes for the next day, great! Otherwise, you may have to put a few items in the wash for them. It’s so helpful to have that done when they wake up for the next day.
Make sure your blogger is eating, and eating well. Sometimes, the con is too much and the eating schedule is off. Make sure that your blogger has access to food, and good food at that nourishes them. Things that replenish electrolytes such as pickles are good. Otherwise, burgers and salt can be really useful for that. If your blogger is vegetarian or vegan, I recommend having some bread and hummus for protein and carbs. Be sure to touch base with them about whether they’ve eaten. It can be hard to remember in the midst of con-drop.
Talk to your blogger. They have a lot to process right now. They may have just done a really great spanking scene, or maybe they just feel so much impostor syndrome that they just can’t even. Find out what they are feeling and truly sympathize. It’s hard to feel like a good blogger and advocate when there are SO MANY good ones out there.
I also want to note that if your blogger is out-peopled, they may not want to talk. That’s okay too! Follow their tweets. They may be able to communicate their emotions better that way. Give them space and let them come to you. A scared blogger is a walled-off blogger.
Touch your blogger, or not. Sometimes. your blogger may need to feel some physical aftercare. It was an intimate and emotional weekend for everyone, even if they didn’t go to any parties. Be attentive to your blogger feeling lost and needing a grounding hug, or feeling over-touched and just needing a hand holding (or less!). Be prepared for petting your blogger when they revert to a catatonic state. Turning them towards the sun and watering periodically can also be useful here.
If your blogger is an introvert, consider sitting in the same room with them and simply working or playing a game. Then you can be there if they want you, or you leave them alone if they don’t want you.
If your blogger is an extrovert, find some good friends who they trust and plan some easy outings. A simple cup of coffee with a friend can help them regain energy in a more everyday setting, which is helpful for the transition into daily life. If some con-drop feelings surface, they are with someone trust-worthy.
Make sure your blogger has a comforting thing. Oreos are a great source of chocolate. If your blogger is vegan, Oreos are too. Make sure your blogger has Oreos. 
Make sure you have vitamin C on hand. Your blogger just spent a few days in a hotel with a lot of people. Con-flu is not just an occurrence. It’s extremely common. Fluids, vitamin C and some congestion medicine is helpful to deal with the fall-out of con-petri-dish.
*If you are long distance, be sure that your blogger has everything they need locally and check in more often than the average human.
In general, listen and be attentive to your blogger. They may have really unique needs that I can’t cover here. You know them well, so I know you’ll do fine. With a little time and love, your blogger will recover and be back to their typical selves. That is, they will be planning for the next con eagerly.

Indigo Buys a Robe

10 out of 10
Would recommend. For everyone.
Pairs nicely with Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. Enough said.
Please buy one anywhere that sells clothes.
So, as soon as I moved out, I realized that people who aren’t related to me would probably mind whether or not I was covered when I wandered around the apartment. A a result, I investigated all the possibilities for house-clothes.
First I started with slippers. I have tried many pairs of slippers in my time. Most of them have some sort of warm lining inside suede or plastic foot forms. They are open on the back, like close-toed flip-flops. Look, if you’ve never heard of or seen slippers, then you are clearly unaware of most culture post-1900. I’m sorry time-travelers, but this blog should not be your introduction to the 21st century.
Regardless, slippers are often quite plush and comfortable. For about three seconds. I would not recommend slippers for people who hate shoes, which I do. They are sweaty and constrictive and offer no airflow to the toes. My feet are the feet of a dancer. I studied Jazz and Ballet barefoot for three years in college. My feet are covered in callouses and they love the open air. Every time I wear slippers, my feet not only cry out for freedom, they sweat a nasty smell that should never enter the nostrils of another human being. Maybe someone really bad. Maybe. This is not something I wished to subject my roommates to.
If you’re a monster who MUST have slippers, you could buy them on Amazon I guess. But I’m not giving you a link because as far as I’m concerned, it’s blasphemy to feet everywhere.
I looked into silky pajamas! There are so many sets, it cannot be comprehended. There are sets with shorts, there are sets with pants, long-sleeved, short-sleeved and no-sleeved. These are all really great choices for home-wear. I endorse pajamas for any human being who wants to wear cloth on their bodies.
I’ve worn many pairs of pajamas before. I have had sets that match (with little birds on them), and sets comprised of stripey pants and one old as hell shirt with Zero on it. Usually, they flow well, fit loose and generally feel like they are made of air plus a waistband. However, I wanted something even less. That’s right. I wanted something LESS than a waistband. Years of being able to walk around completely naked spoiled my physical form. I wanted to stay as close to naked as I possible could.
Robes. Robes were the answer to all my problems. Again, if you’re a time-traveler or basically just a beast, robes are basically towels with sleeves. No, not that. You’re thinking of Snuggies, which are blankets with sleeves. Robes are different. They are absorbent, so when you spill your beer on yourself, they soak it up. Robes are short, so your legs and feet can show off their hairy, free-flowing goodness. Robes are tied with one piece of fabric around the middle, giving you complete control over your waistband.
Basically, robes are the trashiest item of clothing that can be bought in the modern market. I mean, more than short-shorts with “Juicy” written across the ass. I mean more than cut-off shorts. I mean more than men’s tank tops branded openly as “wife beaters.” When you walk out in a robe, you know that nothing productive will get done in the yard. If you’re going to get the paper, you will inevitably flash ALL of the neighbors. If you encounter a cop, that cop WILL judge you. Harshly.
And in our modern society of double-standards, it means that I do all of my best reviews in my robe. It means that I get really friendly neighbors. And it means that cops who block my car in frantically try to move their cruisers. That’s right, folks. I have boobs. I was born with female chromosomes. Usually, I ignore those chromosomes because they are annoying and bring down my income, respect and job prospects.
However, when I wear my robe and get a little benefit from my figure, it makes me feel good. I mean, I feel good in a trashy way, but I still feel good. It’s not unlike the feeling of liking a James Patterson novel. It’s basic. It’s usually made fun of. But it’s so damn satisfying sometimes.
So I went out and bought a men’s robe. That’s right. Because all of the women’s robes in target were around $50. Many of the men’s robes were also $50. But there was a section that was $30, and in that, I found one for $25. Again, being female is a pain in the ass. In addition, my devastatingly sexy boyfriend can wear this robe, so he rarely brings his own night clothes to my apartment.
There are many reasons to buy robes. They are comfy. They are easily adjustable. They are one size fits all. They can be found for cheap. Last, but certainly not least, they can improve your sex life.
Go buy robes. Go have sex.

Indigo Embarrasses a Security Guard!

9 out of 10
Would highly recommend.
Pairs wells with boxed wine. Because what else says class like this?
About a month ago, I heard some noises from the apartment next door. I was a little confused because there had never been any neighbors in the apartment, and the mail was always labeled as “no occupant.”
I heard something like “mumblemurmur loud sex mumblejumble.”
That gave me some pause. Were they talking about ME? I am the classiest of humans. I am pure 100% royalty in all the ways. Between the sheets, I’m a polite huma-
Oh god, I can’t keep that shit up. Of COURSE they were talking about me! For the first time ever, I acquired a boyfriend who could keep up with my insatiable thirst for having intercourse. I got laid every time I had the chance. I didn’t care if I was loud because you can be as loud as the hell you want when you’re fucking making love.
I ignored these illegal neighbors for as long as possible.
Until one day.
It all changed when my boyfriend was over. We were waiting for our delicious heaven BBQ Chicken Pizza.  A security guard came tapping, gently rapping, a security guard came tapping on my chamber door. (Poe reference, for you know, literature reasons?)
I opened up and he introduced himself as Officer Carlos…something. All I caught was Carlos, honestly. He said that there had been squatters in the apartment next door, and asked if I had heard anything.
“Sure, Officer Carlos. I heard them about a week ago. These walls are thin.”
“Oh? What did you hear?”
“Uhm…’robble robble loud sex murmur annoying.’ I assumed they were talking about us the previous night, but I couldn’t be sure.”
At that moment, my poor boyfriend, and poor Officer Carlos both went a violent shade of red. It may be worth pointing out that I was in a robe at this point and NOTHING ELSE. My boyfriend was aware of this, and Officer Carlos probably inferred that. But it’s worse for Officer Carlos. My boyfriend is used to that shit. Poor Officer Carlos had no idea what he was walking into when he gently tapped on my door. Oh, Officer Carlos, you were blissfully ignorant. What would you give to go back?
At this precise moment, as the blood was slowly leaving my boyfriend’s face, and Officer Carlos was thoroughly making notes on the situation (avoiding ALL eye contact with either of us), the timer for the pizza went off. And like the sitcom I am, I went to retrieve the pizza from the over, being very careful to crouch and NOT show off my bum to the poor Officer Carlos.
He quickly finished his notes and left, and I never saw him again. After he left, my boyfriend just looked at me and said “You’re terrible, you know that?”
Yes, boyfriend. Yes I do.

Indigo Gives Valentine's Advice

10 out of 1o
(Clearly an unbiased review of my own advice. See disclaimer at the end of the post.)
This advice pairs well with alcohol. Lots of it, any kind.
Well, Valentine’s Day is tomorrow! I always love to watch people scramble for last-minute reservations and ideas. But I also feel bad for people who say to each other “We don’t care! It’s just a stupid day!” And then at the last minute, they realize they will look like a jerk if they don’t get something and you’re stuck with $5 chocolates and a reservation at McDonald’s. So here is my advice to make Valentine’s Day really special for that someone in your life who makes you all hot in the loins. (Also, get that checked maybe.)
(If you aren’t a person who likes Valentine’s day, that’s cool! This advice could be used to just make a nice Tuesday.)
1. Put on a fresh pair of pants. Now, this seems like it should be a no-brainer. But I know my audience. You walk in the door, and take off your pants to air out immediately so you can wear them several days in a row, and when they smell in the crotch a little, you just put some Febreeze on it. It’s smart. It saves time AND money. But. You can’t do that if you want some delicious sexy time with your Valentine. Go and put on a fresh pair. At MOST, one day old. I know it seems like splurging because you don’t have a meeting in the morning and no one’s died, but sex will ensue; trust me.
2. Surprise them with a haircut. This one goes two ways. Imagine Valentine’s morning. Your love wakes up and reaches over for a morning kiss and suddenly your hair has gone from that classic hero hair into a buzz. Your lover is surprised, but loves the masculine way it suits you. Morning sex ensues.
2a. Surprise THEM with a haircut. Imagine Valentine’s morning. Your love wakes up and reaches over for a morning kiss and suddenly finds their hair has gone from classic hero hair to a buzz cut. They are surprised and shocked that you did this to them, but they love the masculine way it suits them. Morning sex ensues.
3. Set the bar low then surprise them with mediocrity. When you’re planning for Valentine’s day with your love, suggest things like “a romantic single rose,” and “a table for two at McDonald’s.” If you mention at least three times that you can’t afford champagne or a babysitter, they will begin to expect another night in where you watch Space Balls and try to get in the mood for obligatory sex. However, what you’ve been doing all along is planning to take them to the Mexican restaurant down the street. You have carnations and boxed wine in the car. They’re surprised and delighted that you planned so many romantic things, and the Mariachi band even played My Heart Will Go On. Sex ensues upon return home. Stud. Muffin.
4. Surprise your lover with a trip, and alone time. This one must be done carefully. If you mess it up, your lover may feel spurned instead of treated. I suggest you don’t tell them anything. Just go to the airport with a bag, and buy a ticket for wherever. Be sure you pack lingerie, lots of fun items and booze. However, before you leave, be sure to put some money on the table for a manicure or a nice dinner. With this precise execution, you get to have fun in Rio, and your lover will be happy to have a manicure and not see you! Sex ensues for you on vacation AND when you get home.
5. Surprise your lover with spontaneity! If you want to execute this one, start now. Make plans for a really nice dinner at a really fancy restaurant. Go. Break up with them. The day after Valentine’s Day, say you miss them and want them back. Use a boom box, or public announcement, or a poem to show them you REALLY mean it. They will love your new spontaneous personality. Make-up sex ensues.
6. Surprise your lover. This one is by far the best advice I can give. Using Pavlov’s rules, you can easily make your partner’s heart flutter any time they see you. All you have to do is hide around the corner and shock them as many times as possible. Soon, they’ll be conditioned to react to you whenever they see you. Instant love. Sex ensues.
Well, that’s all the advice I have this week/time/year. Be safe you crazy lovebirds!
Disclaimer: I do not condone cheating, nonconsensual haircuts, or emotional abuse of any kind. This post is satire on a holiday that is very often taken too seriously. Please enjoy a nice day with a lover and/or pal and participate in mutually fun things.

Indigo Tries to Go to College!

0 out of 10
Would not recommend. Emphasis on the “Tries.”
Pairs nicely with Icehouse Beer. Because it tastes like empty disappointment, and it’s all you can afford now that a college has stolen your money.
Let me start with this: I absolutely hate college as an institution in this country. This post will not be backed by studies and all the things it should be, because it’s an editorial. That means these are my opinions, and NOT FACTS. However, they are my personal facts. And here are the reasons I hate college.
College is expensive for no reason. I really mean this. I have (as of writing this) paid over $500 just to enroll in the college I chose, and I haven’t even registered for any classes. On top of what I’ve paid, there will be $6,000/semester tuition (for a full time student), fees for all the of labs, the gym fee for a gym I probably won’t use, as well as books.
If I get a loan, then it will be expensive, with high interest rates and very little assurance that I will be able to pay it off before I’m 40. If I stop and don’t go to college, I have a hard time getting jobs because I don’t have a stupid piece of paper that says I have jumped through hoops. And so how can I get a job jumping through hoops if I haven’t proved that I can jump through hoops?
Books are stupid. Okay, that’s really not true. I love most books. But I hate with a fiery passion what college does to textbooks. Textbooks should be pure and clean. Textbooks should be worth what you are charged for them. Instead, college professors can write books, charge %2000 of the printing costs and require them for classes they teach. In one case, the local community college actually took a sociology book, slapped a different cover on it and hiked the price by 130%. Everything from the questions to the stupid little pictures was the same.
Whenever a “new edition” of a book comes out, it goes up to the $200-$300 price, and the older editions drop dramatically. This makes it hard to resell your books at the end of the semester. The editions aren’t even that different. Really. (I was recently corrected by a few biology and medical folks that these areas have different editions for really good reasons. I stand corrected FOR THESE AREAS ONLY.)
College makes you jump through stupid hoops. When I applied, I had to fill out every form just right. I had to send in transcripts a specific way. When I was accepted, I had to “accept enrollment” with my “enrollment deposit (of $400)” in hand. After I was accepted, I had to make room in my busy schedule for an 8-hour orientation. I’ve been to college. I have a degree. I’m not living on your campus. Just let me sign up for classes.
In order to skip orientation, I tried many things. I was going to be out of town for most of the orientation dates. As a commuting student, I needed to enroll for classes ASAP to have my classes in the right schedule, and my commute might not make me suicidal. So I tried early orientation dates, but they were closed because I didn’t have my $400 paid soon enough. I tried to skip it by having my advisor enroll me, but then they couldn’t lift the blocks on my account because “it’s a college requirement.”
One day, I went to two different offices, and finally found someone who told me who to call and what to do. I tried to follow those steps to the letter. And eventually, after hitting more brick walls, I said “Fuck it.” I marched down to my advisor, who told me to go to the Orientation Office. I was sick and it was the middle of the fucking winter. I walked across campus to this Orientation Office, and they told me to go to my advisor. I did what any sane person who was sick, had been run in circles and needed to solve a problem would do; I broke down into tears. They enrolled me for the first Orientation date on the spot.
In order to qualify as independent according to federal aid, you have to be 24. Full stop. No asterisk. No exceptions. If you’re 23, you need help from your parents. If you 24, you magically evolve into a broke person who suddenly needs help. Quick reminder: you’re considered an adult at 18 here in America. But apparently, those 6 years between are when you either don’t go to college or have mom and dad pay for it because…logic?
College doesn’t prepare you for as much as they say it does. There are obvious exceptions to this, like medical school. But let’s be honest; if you have a degree in Psychology, you’d better have a back-up plan like HR. If you have a degree in the arts, I hope you like teaching. And if you get a degree in theatre, you know about half of what you’ll need to in order to be successful in the field. I should know, I was a Stage Manager for 5 years. I made a living working my ass off in Theatre.
I came up through the unpaid ladder of community theatre. The graduated college students I would get out of theatre programs made me sigh. They didn’t know how to read blueprints. They hardly knew what a theatre ran on. Because college is a vacuum environment, and most theatres are not. They run on precise budgets and they are never run “the way they should be.” I would suspect this is true of many degrees. I could match their skills and surpass them without a college degree every time. Hmmm. That’s interesting, ain’t it?
College is like a set of bad parents. There are a few reasons I say this. Number one is the whole back and forth I had to go to. “Go see your advisor.” “Go see Orientation.” “Go see your advisor?” It reminded me strongly of what my parents used to say: “Go ask your Mom.” “Go ask your Dad.” The only difference is that I could give myself permission to play outside eventually. As an adult, I can’t break into the computer system and lift blocks on my registration. For whatever reason.
The other primary reason that college reminds me of bad parenting is the reason most people give for going back to college: connections. It’s that old thing that my mom used to say to me every day. “Go make some new friends.” “Go find some new people to hang out with.” I personally don’t need an entire institution to encourage me to make friends. Do you? Then you’re probably fucking 12. (Introverts, I understand how hard it is for you to make friends. But seriously, 12,000/year for a friend-making service? No. Just…no.)
In short, I would not recommend anyone try to go to college. You can make money outside of college in a lot of fields as long as you’re willing to start early and have an open mind. Do a lot of these fields suck? Yes. Are you still subject to personal stories (ie, racial difference, white privilege, etc.)? Yes. If you can afford college, and you know you want to go, do it. I hear it’s valuable. I just haven’t figured out why yet.
Please don’t let this jaded bitch kill your dreams. After all, I AM going back to college, right? Maybe there’s a reason. #hypocrite?

Indigo Moves Out!

6 out of 10 stars
Would only recommend to the strong of character.
Pairs well with a Manhattan. Because you’re an adult now.
Well, I’ve done it. I moved all of my physical possessions into a place that does not belong to a family member biologically obligated to let me live under their roof. It consisted of movement a few tables of various sizes, clothes in a dresser, a desk and a box spring/memory foam mattress. We accomplished this in ONE. DAY. Because my friends and family are baller.
This process is worthy of review for any adult. There are a few points to be made:
1.My apartment complex is some shit. This is because the buildings are old, which makes construction cheap. They claim to have put “millions of dollars” into renovations. I would believe they put A million. One single million.

Look at this. Totally done at 4:55 on a Friday. No. Fucks. Given.

2. I’m paying entirely too much for this. I pay about 500$ in rent for the room I live in now. The complex covers no utilities, and on top of that, does not offer energy. As such, we must pay about 100$ collectively to pepco every month, and an additional 80$ to the apartment complex itself. This does not include 60$ to Xfinity for the Internet. 240$ for a three-bedroom place. Because there are gaps in the windows, and the roommates can’t understand how thermostats work. Which brings us to #3.
3. Roommates are terrible. I have gotten into a fight with one roommate about the closet that she should not have. I have been in a constant silent war with the other about whether or not she should clean up after her cat. Also, neither knows how to fill a dishwasher. The cups go BETWEEN the tongs. On the TOP RACK. IT’S EFFICIENT. WAKE UP SHEEPLE.
4. The neighbors are terrible. The walls of this apartment are thin (see #1). As such, when the empty apartment next door was filled, I was not super excited. I knew I would hear conversations because THERE WERE SQUATTERS before someone legally rented it. One day, my devastatingly sexy boyfriend and I were enjoying a night of sex, and we got a little rowdy. Loudly from next door came a “SHUT THE FUCK UP.” My boyfriend almost had a heart attack. I burst out laughing. However, I did not get laid again that night, and my rage against neighbors has never ceased. Now, one of them snores.
5. Being independent is AWESOME. I will say it again. Being. Independent. Is. Awesome!!!! I have not had any of my roommates call at midnight to ask if I’ll be home. I have not had either of my roommates stop me on my way out the door to ask if I can help with the attic. I have been able to buy and eat as much cookie dough as I want. I can go for a run right afterwards, or sit on my bed and masturbate with one hand, with cookie dough in the other. Like a curvy, vivacious Jabba the Hut. Wee pee bo solo fuck cookie doe.
6. Paying rent makes you feel like a boss. I mean, there’s that good week before you pay rent, where you run around going “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Moneeeey!!!”But every time I look into my account and see $500 has been removed (presumably to pay shitty repairmen do shitty repairs), I feel like a big adult. I put on my adult pajamas and do a little IndepenDANCE because I just successfully paid rent.
So yes, moving out is a solid 6 out of 10. The benefits still outweigh the cons, and I hope that continues to be true for as long as I live. Then I will never live with family again, gods bless ’em.