Cat Scratch Fever

Bahahahaha, so this is what extreme exhaustion makes me do. Some people drink, some people party the night away, others simply pass out. Allow me to introduce my new creation;

Like A Mews

Dreams On Fire

Dreams are weird little things aren't they? And, they're usually not interesting to anyone except the person who had them or if they're short and weird enough that the person listening doesn't want to throttle you as you keep blabbing about it. When I fall asleep with the aid of Tylenol PM I always have whacked out dreams but I'll spare you. Basically at one point my grandmother was walking around a mall by herself and my cousin and I ran into her and she said something about my grandfather being mean to the waitstaff and that everyone would be relieved if he died.

...

Okay, I saw my grandmother yesterday and the cousin in the dream so of course they showed up and we've all been worried about my grandfather, and he can be quite ornery, so it all jumbled together and came out like that in my subconscious. I like when I can make sense of the nonsensical because I don't believe dreams are telling us anything. I think they're the extra parts of the day our minds just doesn't know what to do with, so they spin a storyline and play it in your head as you sleep to get rid of it.

Like for example, the other part of my dream. I was rushing around because it was time to eat and I had to eat a doughnut but it was the plain, plastic glazed ones that suck and I was mad I was eating it because it was like a Kripy Kreme and as an unofficial New Englander I have my Dunkin Donuts loyalties. Except when it comes to coffee because DD's coffee is atrocious and I'll pay the extra dollar and get Starbucks if I am going to go out to get my coffee. Oh and I was also panicking in the dream because I hadn't stuck to my "eating schedule."

This might not make a lot of sense to you, but it's perfectly clear to me. I went to a dietician the other day because I've had some trouble with my weight and food and since I've been diagnosed with polycystic ovaries, not to mention teetering on the edge of Type 1 diabetes, I thought it would be a good idea to get a course in eating right and losing weight (bonus: it's Task 11!). I'm on a week-long program right now where I eat certain foods every couple hours and I have "tonic" to drink every day. Today's tonic is meant to clean and flush out my kidneys (yesterday's was liver and tomorrow is intestines and then I repeat the cycle) and is a mixture of green tea, lemon, raspberry tea and some other stuff. It's all natural, no chemicals or supplements and it's a very pretty red color. The food is normal too, breakfast; I had a homemade cereal of green apples, apricots, oats, cinnamon, and some kind of seed in lactose-free milk, lunch; zucchini cooked with fresh onions and tomatoes and some seasoning with yoghurt, snack; apple and cheese, second snack; grilled cheese on wheat bread, dinner; lentil soup and a big salad and I even got ice cream. The second day is a whole different list and I alternate between the two for a week. There's no starving yourself because that's even worse for the metabolism and with the small amounts and the tea tonic concoctions I've already lost some retained water weight. I go back next Thursday to check back in with the doctor/dietician and get another program. It's supposed to help train the body for a better eating schedule and re-balance everything internally. But of course in my dream, I'm worried about keeping up with it and eating right after the program is done and I'm on my own and so forth.

Tylenol PM keeps giving me these vivid dreams though, I should stop taking it but I need it sometimes because as nocturnal as I like to think my system is, I like to sleep!

Om nom, nom.

No you're not seeing things, one set of water glasses at home morph into a heart shape at the bottom.

The Final Countdown

In the previous post I said there were literally a hundred songs or bands I could think of and I wanted to see if there, literally, were. Since I did it by bands or songs in particular in the other post, I'll do the same for the list. I'm allowed repeats of bands but I'll give myself a limit of two. I'm not sleepy but I'm not awake enough to write the explanations so if you're dying to know you can ask. I'll specify if I mean song or video. In no particular order other than what popped up in my head and deserves a spot:

1) Iron Maiden- Blood Brothers, song
2) Bon Jovi- Something For the Pain, song
3) Jon Bon Jovi (solo) - Destination Anywhere
4) Motley Crue - Rock 'n' Roll Junkie, song
5) Alice Cooper - Give the Kid A Break, song
6) Alice Cooper - Poison, video
7) Faster Pussycat - Bathroom Wall, video
8) Faster Pussycat - Cathouse (remixed), song
9) Twisted Sister- We're Not Gonna Take It, video
10) Turisas - Battle Metal, song
11) Tyr - Hail to the Hammer, song
12) Duran Duran - Hungry Like the Wolf, video/song
13) The Darkness - Growing On Me, video/song
14) Van Halen - Why Can't This Be Love?, song
15) Van Halen - Hot For Teacher, video
16) Gun 'n' Roses - Don't Cry, video
17) Megadeth - Motorcycle, video
18) Def Leppard - Animal, song
19) Tarkan - Gül Döktüm Yollarına, song
20) Tarkan - Hüp, video/song
21) Misfits - Hybrid Moments
22) Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention - Take Your Clothes Off When You Dance, song
23) In Flames - Man-Made God, song
24) Dark Tranquility - Ex Nihilo, song
25) 69 Eyes - Perfect Skin, video/song
26) Hellacopters - Take Me On, song
27) Wig Wam - Do Ya Wanna Taste It?, song
28) Yalın - Küçücüğüm, song
29) Redd - Falan, Filan, song
30) Kargo - Yıldızların Altında, song/video
31) Teoman - Paramparça, sng
32) Turbonegro - All My Friends Are Dead, song
33) Ramones - My Brain Is Hanging Upside Down, song
34) Motörhead - Ace of Spades, live on The Young Ones*
35) Judas Priest - Living After Midnight, song
36) Michael Jackson - Dirty Diana, video/song
37) Madonna - Like a Prayer (I can't believe it took me until 37 to think of it), video/song
38) Madonna - Ray of Light, song
39) Nightwish - Nemo, video
40) The Bangles - Walk Like An Egyptian, song
41) Suede - Film Star, song
42) Supergrass - Time, song
43) T. Rex - Mambo Sun, song
44) David Bowie - Blue Jean, video/song
45) David Bowie - Rock 'n' Roll Suicide, song
46) Meat Loaf - I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That), video
47) Sweet - Fox on the Run, song
48) Joan Jett and the Blackhearts - Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah), song
49) Luxury - These Days, song
50) Crash Kelly - She Gets Away, song
51) Scorpions - Every Minute Every Day, song
52) KISS - Shout It Out Loud, song
53) L.A. Guns - Beautiful, song
54) Ratt - Heads I Win, Tails You Lose, song
55) Ratt - Round and Round, video
56) Lordi - Blood Red Sandman, video/song
57) Wicked Sensation - Rain On Me, song
58) Mustafa Sandal - Beni Ağlatma, song
59) Duman - Bu Akşam, song
60) Haddaway - What is Love, song
61) INXS - Disappear, video/song
62) The Poodles - Flesh and Blood, song
63) Prince - Peach, song
64) Prince - Raspberry Beret, song
65) Elvis Presley - (You're the) Devil In Disguise, song
66) Enuff Z'Nuff - So Sad to See You, song
67) Skid Row - 18 and Life, video
68) Queen - I Want to Break Free, video/song
69) Accept - Balls to the Walls, video/song
70) Rolling Stones - Anybody Seen My Baby, video
71) Siouxsie and the Banshees - Face to Face, song
72) Spice Girls - If You Wanna be My Lover, video
73) Slade - Gudbye T'Jane, song
74) Quiet Riot - Cum On Feel the Noise, song
75) Gogol Bordello - Wanderlust King, song
76) Various Artists - Chori, Chori Gori Se, song
78) The Wildhearts - Vanilla Radio, song
79) Backyard Babies - Electric Suzy, song
80) Hardcore Superstar - Shame, video
81) ABBA - Knowing Me, Knowing You, song
82) Annie Lennox - Little Bird, song
83) Kurban - Cennet, song
84) Dio - I Could've Been a Dreamer, song
85) Dio - Rock'n'Roll Children, video
86) Beatles - Help!, song (and movie)
87) Warrant - Uncle Tom's Cabin, song/video
88) Freddie Mercury - Living On My Own, song
89) Billy Idol - Cradle of Love, video/song
90) Motley Crue - Girls, Girls, Girls, video
91) Journey - Don't Stop Believing, song
92) Blondie - Call, video/song
93) Eluveite - Gray Sublime Archon, song
94) The Cult - Fire Woman, song/video
95) Bloodlights - One Eye Open, song
96) Sukhwinder Singh & Sapna Awasthi - Chaiyya Chaiyya, song
97) Iggy Pop - Lust For Life, video
98) Iggy Pop - The Passenger, song
99) Thin Lizzy - Waiting For An Alibi, song
100) The Muppet Show/Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles/Beetlejuice/Ducktales/Chipmunks/Jem and the Holograms - Theme Song*

I might not have pretentious, obscure bands that no one has heard of but there it is. I think I just summed up 24 years of Leyla in 100 songs and videos (repeating bands no more than twice).

* Does this count? Judge rules: it counts.

Watch That Video (Sleeze Beez, anyone? Anyone?)

Youtube is still a no-no here in Turkey even with all the computer-whiz stuff my sister's boyfriend attempted on my little laptop, but I remembered www.dailymotion.com (our answer to fighting the lack of online video watching) today! So, to combat boredom during my nightly battle to woo sleep, I looked up and enjoyed all my old favorite videos.

The classic that started it all, Iron Maiden's "Can I Play With Madness"


There was a time when I was obsessed with Aerosmith, I loved them. My email address that I still use is actually an old song of theirs (gypsy__boots@hotmail.com) but when I discovered Hanoi Rock and realized my favorite song of theirs also had the same title, I switched allegiance. I did a summer program at Boston University (waaay before I went there for grad school) where the program director was actually a good friend of Steven Tyler's, as well as a producer on Nine Lives. He showed us all this old footage and told stories about the band (instead of teaching us producing but really, how do you teach that?) and when he found out they were my favorite, he promised me some old junk of their that he got stuck with. He never followed through but for a while there, I was in heaven. I think Aerosmith is still the standard by which I judge music videos (Guns 'n' Roses and Meat Loaf round out the video kings trifecta). Theirs were honestly just mini-films and were so fun to watch, not to mention enjoy the music with. When I think of MTV, especially now that they don't play videos, I always think of the Alicia Silverstone trilogy; "Crazy," "Cryin'," and, "Amazing."

This is however my favorite song of theirs, "Walk on Water." This video is actually taken right off that program, Friday Rocks, on Vh1 that I've mentioned before. Oh those were the days. Staying up all night just to catch maybe one, two if you were lucky, videos you really wanted and it would still be so worth it.


Speaking of switching allegiance, I can't not mention Hanoi Rocks. They were the first bluesy metal/dirty sax rock'n'roll (yes I meant sax, as in saxophone) band I'd ever heard, even before Guns 'n' Roses. Okay, I grew up in '90s Europe, obviously I'd heard Guns'n'Roses before but I never actually listened to Appetite for Destruction all the way through until I was in college. Some people might say blasphemy. I say a big, resounding meh. As it stands, I'm still not a Guns girl and probably never will be. But the similarity between Slash and my messy, curly hair will always guarantee me a fail-safe, last-minute costume on any given Halloween. Anyway, I heard "Gypsy Boots," and my jaw literally dropped. I think it was the first time I got a crush on a song. They got back together not too long ago and recorded one of their best albums and then announced they were breaking up for good last year. I was mighty pissed. Their farewell tours were in Sweden/Finland and Japan. The Japan dates coincided with my spring break from school so, with my boyfriend, we headed off to Japan. Yep, and that's why I can say I followed a band to Japan. Sure, I wanted to see the country and so did my boyfriend. I'd never been and he's a Japan dork (not the crazy, makes-you-cringe-in-secondhand-embarrassment kind) so it worked out. You know what worked out even better? Meeting Michael Monroe randomly in the middle of the Harajuku district.

This was the second Hanoi Rocks song I ever listened to that basically sealed them as my new favorite band. And yes, Michael Monroe is just as terrifying and wonderful in real life as he is in the video.

Hanoi Rocks, "People Like Me."


This was the time when I really got into reading the metal site, Metal Sludge. I kept reading about all these bands that I didn't know (along with the ones I did), so I went on the hugest downloading and music hunting spree that summer. I don't support downloading music illegally and I always spend the money now or buy used but eh, silly little high school girl with no access to music in Istanbul meets Limewire? Come on now. Anyway, this is basically how I met all my '80s L.A. metal but just as a representative of all of them; from the badass end of the spectrum, like Motley Crue, to the silly and kind of softer variety, like Enuff Z'Nuff, here are my loves, Cinderella with, "Gypsy Road." As you may have noticed, I love songs with the word gypsy in them for some reason. Hanoi Rocks, Cinderella, Dio's, "Gypsy," all good by me.

Cinderella, "Gypsy Road."


A current band that's another favorite of mine are Hardcore Superstar. They're of the Scandinavian sleaze variety that I adore so much and I even got to interview the drummer, via email, for one of the sites I worked for. The link to the interview is here (because I'm stupidly proud of what I managed to do via writing and no contact other than editors and publicity people and no chance to write an introduction or commentary whatsoever) and this is the first song by theirs that caught my attention.

Hardcore Superstar, "We Don't Celebrate Sundays."


Number six, the augmented number of the beast, is of course, AC/DC. You show me a genuine metal or rock fan who doesn't like AC/DC and I'll show you a swift kick to the groin. They are without comparison and though I'm a Bon Scott fan all the way, Brian Johnson brings me immeasurable joy with his unmistakable screech. My boyfriend and I suffered through a rush hour, Chinatown bus-ride from Boston to New York to see them. We didn't sleep that night as we had to catch the train back home because I had class at 9 am the next morning but it was so worth it. I love AC/DC, Amtrak, however, not so much.

AC/DC, "Touch Too Much," my favorite off my favorite record, Highway to Hell.


I could literally think of a hundred more songs and bands but I'll just end with a certain man. A certain man my friends and I couldn't believe was for real in high school and who, once I paid attention to, I decided was one of the happiest, most adrenaline-pumping, awe and every other emotion/action- inspiring, individuals on the whole planet. Everyone I know, especially my boyfriend and boy friends, see him as a hero and why not? He just loves music and wants to party. And thinks I'm beautiful.

Andrew WK, "She Is Beautiful."

Insert maudlin song lyrics or title.

I can't sleep. I can't sleep, I can't sleep, I can't sleep. Why do I sleep late every day? Because without the aid of sleeping pills, I CAN'T SLEEP.

I try to sleep. I go to bed at 12, at 2, early times for me. But then I lay there for the next few hours, listening to the cat snore, listening to the rain, listening to the call to prayer, listening to every damn thing that confirms to me that I'm not sleeping.

Not that sleeping helps. Oh no, hahaha. That would be too kind for my brain. No, no, when I sleep it's the most restless, active-dreaming sleep that when I wake up, I realize I've been asleep. There's virtually no difference! Not even the pills help with that. By pills I mean the PM versions of common headache medicines. Lest you think I've gone the rock star way. Not quite nightmares but by no means pleasant dreams, just weird stories that disturb and sadden and confuse me, every night. And thus, I never wake up rested no matter how late I get up. But Leyla, you say, when the body sleeps more, it feels more tired. Of course you don't feel rested, you're sleeping too much. I beg to differ kind, disembodied voice. When one falls asleep around 5 and gets up at 1, that's not too much sleep. That's the normal amount of sleep the body requires. So technically I should wake up refreshed! Ready! Happy to take on the day! But that would be too kind, no, I should just keep on waking up feeling like something really heavy ran me over. Not a car, not a tractor. A monster truck maybe. One that has a personal vendetta against me.

I have too many thoughts in my head. They swirl around and repeat themselves and spawn many other tiny thoughts like those asexual organisms you learn about in biology. They don't need a mate to reproduce, they just build up and up and then through mitosis or osmosis or some other reaction, they make another. But my thoughts don't let that stay put, oh oh! No, they'll then analyze the meanings of osmosis and mitosis and add meiosis and all the useless information I have stored in there will unravel and join the thoughts until my head is so full, my brain begs to be let out.

You could make a science fiction movie out of my mind. The Girl Who Thought Too Much. You know what the finale would be? Complete, psychotic breakdown. The brain devours the girl, then everything else until the world is a black hole created by a monstrous brain. Hmm. Is this what happens when I stop the Paxil? I thought I was doing fine but then, I could sleep with Paxil. The thoughts wouldn't mutliply like bunnies in heat with Paxil. I didn't grit my teeth, to fight the weird about-to-cry-ness that always seems present, with Paxil. The weird, about-to-cry-ness that comes with any excess of emotion, was never present with Paxil. Supposedly, the reason people cry is because our bodies over-react and produce chemicals and hormones. Well, bottle me up, because apparently I have enough chemicals and hormones to appease both junkies and the sexually confused alike (respectively, the junkies get the chemicals the boy-girls or girl-boys get the hormones.)

Once upon a time, people were scared of anti-depressants including a girl named me. What if they made you a zombie? And not the cool kind of zombie that ate brains (oh-ho, want mine? It's chock full of yummy thoughts), but the kind that had no personality and was numb to the world. But then the girl named me was prescribed Paxil. And it was all right. It made the choking feeling and the heart racing stop and the personality stay the same. And then she went off it and thought, hey! No side effects! She was smart and didn't do it like the last time where she forgot the pills when she went to visit her boyfriend's family and ended up vomiting the entire night from withdrawal and the worst fucking headache a head has had to suffer. In the world. Ever. Your boyfriend's mom's chocolate cranberry brownies ain't so tasty passing through your throat the opposite way. This time, she slowed it down and cut it off. And she was fine and wondering what good were they really? Was it all psychosomatic? Maybe it did really help because right now she's feeling more of the psycho without the somatic. Or is it because she knows, and the brain knows, and the thoughts know, she's off it?

My brain hurts. The thoughts hurt it. And my jaw hurts. The teeth gritting hurts it. Especially since teeth really have no control over eyes and tear ducts as much as we'd like them to.

Sometimes little girls have to ask, Universe? I hope you have a fucking plan because days like today happen and I just can't understand why. Tossing and turning in bed doesn't help especially when your fickle cat growls every time you come near her rear (which sets off even more thoughts, seriously the slightest thing; did the cat suffer some horrible rear-end situation in a past life? In this life? Do cats get reincarnated? What was the cat's life before she found the little girl? Was she happy? Is she happy now? What if something happens to the cat? Will the little girl be okay (NO))? And so on. Oh and don't even get the girl started on life without the cat because right now, the unsuspecting creature is pretty much all that's holding her together.

Little girls aren't as little as they would like to me. They get tired of bullshit and thoughts and mouth aches and lack of sleeping. It's not fair to count on Paxil and pills, because it's just asking too much of them. It's too much pressure for the poor little pills. And the brain. And the jaw. And the eyes. And the head. And the heart.

So Universe, help out a not-so-little little girl. OR AT LEAST LET ME GET SOME SLEEP.

I'm So Stupid

Why is it that whenever I got really, really excited about something and envision futures of delight and happiness, it blows up in my face?

Take my first internship at CNN Türk. I was supposed to be interning at the arts & entertainment department of the channel, a program called Afiş, at CNN! Just, Turkish. So I showed up the first day and they parked me in front of a computer and I...spent about 8 hours on Facebook. And the next day too. Finally, I started bringing in books to read and I went through about 5 books in 3 days. Oh, they didn't leave me completely hanging though, oh no. I got to translate a one paragraph article from English to Turkish about the Black Eyed Peas performing for Nelson Mandela on his birthday. Except I had to email it to my mom to correctit before I turned it in because fuck if I know Turkish grammar, I never went to Turkish school, I don't read enough Turkish books, I never learned any of that! They also took me on two shoots, each one to film the intro of a segment within the show. I got to... stand to the side and watch a heavily made-up woman talk and then get barked at by the bad-tempered camera guy. I even shamelessly played the grandpa card. I NEVER play the family name card but finally I was so frustrated I started bringing in my grandfather's autobiography (which at the time I was translating into English, another project of mine that sputtered out and probably is no longer needed, not that I was doing a good job anyway) to work on and people noticed who it was and asked who I was. But then went back to ignoring me. Finally, I just quit. What was supposed to be a month-long internship ended up being a week and a half of the most mental frustration I've ever had to deal with. I was told to come in on a Saturday too once because they were covering a country-wide exam but did they tell me where? NOOOO. So I showed up at a completely empty office at 9 in the morning on a Saturday. Yes, maybe I should've checked and made sure where I was supposed to be, they said they were short of people, and this made me feel slightly guilty. But why should it? I know I was a lowly intern but for fuck's sake treat me at least like a human. I didn't even get to photocopy papers of fetch coffee.

Then let's see, there were all my music writing jobs. Oh I talk the big talk on how I got to interview some of my favorite bands and review records and get published. Big fucking whoop. I got to interview two bands that I actually liked, one which was with Hardcore Superstar who are pretty much my favorite band, but even that has a sour edge to it because their representation was so scatter-brained they stood me up twice on phone interviews (one on my BIRTHDAY) and I had to end up emailing them my questions. I got no money, barely any credit, and the very first online magazine I worked (who, I might mention, looooved me during my interview with them esp) for edited my stuff so much that I had to re-write everything twice or more just so I could at least have my words published. This from the people who emailed me to ask me to interview because my cover letter stood out from all the others because of my "voice." Not to mention, three, yes THREE, separate websites stopped responding to me and posting my articles and thereby letting me know my services were no longer needed in the most passive, unprofessional way ever. One website which at first was so into me they gave me my own column. What the fuck, are we in high school? Are you breaking up with me and ignoring my emails and texts? Just tell me straight out, I'm a big girl I can understand if you no longer want or need me to write for you. Haha oh and there was that other one where the guy I reported to hit on me via an email.

Which brings me to the latest thing. This internship turned part-time job. When I was interning for this literary agency, they sent me 22 books and scripts in 3 months to do in record time. I was so excited that I got the internship without having to stay in LA that I was happy to do it and I sincerely was. I'm good at what I do and I do it well. I don't sacrifice quality for speed, I can handle both. They realized this and actually kept me on after the internship ended as a paid reader. But now, I have received three books in two months. And they have not answered any recent emails.

Like I said, I get so, so nerdily dorkily excited when I get these opportunities. Hooray, someone likes what I can do and wants it! But then it just blows up in my face and I end up sitting up, waaaay past regular bedtimes ranting and raving and fuming and bitching and writing entries that are better suited for a middle school Livejournal than a grown-up blog. I understand having to pay dues and not getting things handed to me but I try! I would like something back for all the effort. It's frustrating, it makes my brain and heart hurt, and it makes me paranoid about my abilities and the fact that maybe I'm disappointing everyone around me. Screw it, I'm going to look at things that make me happy. And hug my cat. She has her butt pressed up next to me and is snoring so sweetly.

Credit goes to the beautiful, creative blogs I follow, all listed on the right.

Like A Dream...

"Why was I your last choice?"

Stupid question. Yes I knew it was a stupid question but I asked it anyway. Why was I the last person my boyfriend landed on, on his quest to find a girlfriend? I liked him from the start why didn't he return the favor? You'd think I was past all this bullshit. Four years and some change into a relationship should mean I am happy, self-satisfied, and even a little smug, deservedly so, as what other 24-year-old girl has the boyfriend I have? And truly, he's wonderful. He was my best friend before my boyfriend and that's the dream right? Well I got it. And still these idiotic niggling thoughts pop into my head and show me once again what a pathetic excuse I am for a human being.

Why is always at night? Why is it when the world is sleeping that us seemingly content and happy girls toss and turn and analyze and come to the conclusion that we're crazy and stupid and hate our lives when in fact, we should be thanking God or whatever higher being we believe in that we have it so lucky. For the record, I do believe there is a higher being; someone who knows what they're doing. Because if I didn't believe everything happened for a reason, well I'd just have kill myself. Except I wouldn't because I don't believe in suicide. Anyway, I am one of those content, happy, and overall lucky girls that's convinced she's barking mad as she spends night after night, awake and sad. I come from a pretty well-off family that's half Turkish and half Iranian. The bonds that tie us puts the fairy tale that was, "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," to shame. We breathe, eat, sleep, and live each other. Which sounds gross but really, we're the most tight-knit, protective, loving group of people that could ever share common blood. On top of this, I'm highly educated, fairly intelligent, have awesome hair when it cooperates, and an excellent taste in music. Yes I am a self-proclaimed heavy metal chick but guess what. I am. So fuck you. Iron Maiden forever. And then there's my boyfriend who any sensible female would take an appreciative glance at and who I find very attractive and who sincerely calls me a hot ass babe. Screw your feminism, in my head where I reign as the smart but weird friend to the hot girl (RIP John Hughes but nothing Molly Ringwald as ever been in compares to my life), I crave to be judged by my looks sometimes.

And yet here I am, pulling an Elizabeth Gilbert as I sit up in my apartment, my amazing, gorgeous apartment located in the heart of Boston on Newbury Street I might add, lamenting how deeply, deeply unhappy I am. Maybe it's something all of us privileged white girls go through but depression is a bitch. Especially when there is no goddamn reason for it. I had my oh-so-delightful first nervous breakdown (yes first, as in, more to come) a few years ago during the summer between junior and senior year of college. Then again after I graduated and started my MFA. Then again the next summer. And now. What the fuck, man. Why me? I went to art school where I had a blast for four years as well as getting degree in Media Arts, I got a masters in screenwriting, and now I have every opportunity to make something of myself in the creative world. Except this is the very reason why I bawled my eyes out, quit an internship program that may have lead me to what I've wanted in Los Angeles, and came crawling back home.

Why am I the last choice? Why was I never asked out in high school? How come all my friends are hotter than me? How come I'm such a failure in my eyes? Can I write? Why do people tell me I can when I don't even know anymore? Why am I so far away from my cat, the only thing that has brought me joy in the past year?

I need to get the fuck over myself. So here we are. I want to be a writer. I want to be heard. Hell, maybe I even want to be a screenwriter but I sure as hell ain't gonna succeed if I don't write so here we go. Time to analyze and take a few steps forward.

Madonna is amazing. I've loved her since I was a kid. Yes I am pulling a non-sequitur much? but it will make sense. See, the stories that I love to read are the stories about people, people like me, women, who have come to a block in their lives, in their, to all outward appearances, perfect lives. They crave more. Eat, Pray, Love and Julie & Julia were the two books from last year that sucked me in and made me cry out (inwardly of course, as I'm a robot who can't express emotion unless I'm having one of the aforementioned breakdowns and leaking tears from every face hole), "This is ME! This is what I feel." This past week in L.A. it all came to a head. I didn't want to be there even though I had worked so hard to get there. I got my driver's license, I applied to my school's post-grad program that helps place students in internships within the industry, I left my kitty with my parents in Turkey, and hauled my ass to California. But that awful feeling happened. Depression affects everyone differently but the way my dark passenger, to quote Dexter, rears her bitch head is by forming a giant lump in my chest and throat, killing my appetite, and thoroughly convincing me that I'm dying and I'm going crazy and I'm the only freak that feels this and the world is ending all at the same time. After teary phone calls with my parents and long, long, often heart-breaking conversations with my boyfriend that I won't rehash here, I up and left L.A. and came back to Boston. After three days. And it all boils down to being afraid and not knowing how I was going to get by alone in a strange city that required driving. Yeah, I'm that hysterical woman from 1930s mystery novels that needs a proper slap to come to her senses.

Enough is enough. Time to fix me. I wasn't happy in grad school because I thought I was wasting my life and now it's 8 months past graduation and I still haven't done anything and I'm 24 and time is running out and I've gained weight, and I'm ugly, and I'm just a worthless person. Well, no happy person I've ever met thinks so harshly of themselves so here is my first step. Learn to love myself. Oh barf, I can't believe I just wrote that. Before I go hug a tree and make a dress out of hemp let me get to my point. I was lying in bed tonight, not sleeping, and got to thinking about Madonna. I've listened to her my entire life and I spent today walking around playing my favorite song, "Like A Prayer," over and over. There's comfort in familiarity and Madonna is my childhood and the bond that connects me to every important female in my life from my mom to my cousins to my sister to my best friends. Lo and behold, "in the midnight hour, [I felt her] power." There was a book I once read by India Knight called My Life On A Plate. In it is a description of the main character, "playing Madonna." Basically, whenever a situation arose that she couldn't handle, that she balked at, that made her uncertain and fearful, she pretended she was Madonna and rode it out with confidence and style. I get that. You see, to us Madonna is the ultimate queen. She's been around forever, she always looks fantastic, she's her own muse, she's got talent and creativity and she has that attitude that you just can't mess with.

I want to do that too.

I mean, I don't literally wanna become Madonna, I have no patience for children and certainly won't adopt any, neither will I dye my hair blonde because being a brunette is the one thing I know I take a glowing pride in. Though my hair right now is very blonde streaked. I was having a Kat Von D, trashy dark with blonde highlights moment. Hey, I pull it off. But I digress. No, I don't want to be Madonna but I would like to play her. I want to face problems head on instead of cowering and taking the easy way out. I want to be successful. I want to look fabulous and know it. So here is my Julie & Julia-esque journey of self-discovery; I will make a concise list of every momentous look and fad Madonna went through and pay homage to it in my daily life. Maybe looking ridiculous will help me get over my self-esteem issues. Maybe it will make them worse. But it's something. I can tackle things that I normally don't like writing daily or on a semi-regular basis, do stuff I never would do otherwise, say off the top of my head, riding horses with self-assured aplomb. Watch out Lulu (my dad's horse), English-version Madonna Leyla is coming. Of course I will document it all here which is the next step in getting me writing. I want to do 100 days of Madonna. Maybe they won't be back to back, but I will have 100 days where I tackle the day as Madonna would do and never look back. I've always wanted to be a muse to someone but that is just a girlish fantasy that will never come true. So Madonna will be my guide to make me the muse I want to be for myself. Sounds egotistical right? Good, I think I need that now.

I warn you though, I tend to ramble when I get going. So I will write a lot. Hopefully. I hope so. Writers should write. I can't say now if it'll be good but by the end I hope I can sincerely say it and mean it, have faith in myself. Now I go crawl back into bed with my gorgeous, wonderful boyfriend who will read this in the morning and either pat me on the back or agree, finally, that I am crazy.

"Like a dream, no end and no beginning."