Fall 2009 living at the mothership in Port Jefferson on the north shore of Shlong Island. I am looking very thin after making it out alive from the shitstorm of stress/drugging/bipolar mood cycling/chemical imbalances that befell me in the months prior. 110 pounds type thin, like literally i am wearing leggings i stole from The Children’s Place.
I’m in my childhood bedroom here. Mine since we moved from Manhattan when i was 3. That’s my sunlight simulation floor lamp behind me, which i got at 18 when i left home for college and Vermont’s 6 month winters.
So yeah by the night I took this self portrait I was a quarter century old and living with my parents but at least i was stable after said shitstorm. I was way past the Wellbutrin-induced manic episode where i didnt eat or sleep. Or know that I was assuming the embarrassing identity of a candy raver (below.)
Wellbutrin is a smoking cessation/antidepressant drug in the NDRI class that works by basically flooding your brain with dopamine. NDRI-induced mania produces the same feelings/mindframes/cliched sentiments as an MDMA-induced roll. So because I was basically taking government ecstasy every day, i started acting weird. one day after beginning the med i felt like a “new man” so i shook my parents’ hands and was like “Hi, I’m Adriana.” i decided i had no problems in my life, slept only 2 hours each night and only ate dried fruit from this one bag i got at Costco. i busted out my everyday tutus from college and resumed that wardrobe. i decided i was only going to listen to trance music, thrilled with its positive song titles like “Embracing the Future” and “Tripping the Light Fantastic”. I rejected my beloved roots dubstep with all its titles like “Punisher” “In the Void” and “Impossible and Overwhelming.”
In my state, I wandered out into uncharted social territory, AKA i briefly became a 25-year-old raver/rave promoter’s girlfriend which i am still teased about often by close friends, and tease myself about publically (<THAT IS HOW I SPELL PUBLICALLY…….) because it is ridiculous. very embarrassing. the only thing more detestable than hipsters— scoffing, wine swilling, “adultlike” (yet impolite???) hipsters—is ravers. LED glove-wearing, plastic “kandi”-stacking, slackjawed “lightshow”-watching, new jersey-based overgrown baby ravers. Or okay, i rescind the statement: the hipsters i described are worse, because they are mean, whereas ravers, although functioning with reduced brain activity and bad taste, are at least nice. STILL— my idea of winning life is to be at the exact middle point between a haughty hipster preoccupied with seeming adultlike, and a regressing raver who’s ignorant to the extent of their childlike persona.
I’m only glad there are no pictures of me with this so called “kandi” covering my forearms. i didnt get a chance to make any, or foster retarded rave friendships wherein i’d receive any, cause i woke up out of my “trance” after three weeks when my parents and doctor made me stop taking that ASSY wellbutrin. i had a terrible comedown complete with rage and utter despair but eventually reached an equilibrium and got my own personality back; not manic nor depressed, which i think comes through in this photo.