It's time to start the music...

I love The Muppet Show. And not in the hipster, oh-it's-cool-to-like-them-and-Journey-too way, but in the sincere, heart-filled-with-joy and-love way. We didn't really have it in Turkey, but since we had so much back-and-forth between the States and home, my parents would always tape episodes of various shows for me. I apparently watched Sesame Street, another Jim Henson creation, too but I don't remember that except for the Turkish version we had here. Muppet Babies however, which, along with Tiny Toons, ranked among my top ten cartoons and I do remember watching it vociferously. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Chip 'n' Dale Rescue Rangers, Jem and the Holograms, My Little Pony, Beetlejuice, She-Ra, Simpsons, and Ducktales round out the list, if you were interested. Man, they all had such excellet theme songs too, I miss '80s/'90s cartoons. They just don't make them like they used to. I mean, listen to this.


Chip & Dale Rescue Rangers (1989) - Opening
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That is just such a good song. I'm showing my nerd here but on a Lufthansa flight, my personal TV once had an episode of Chip 'n' Dale under the family selections and I basically kept rewinding and listening to the theme song over and over again. I may have sang along too. This is why you don't seat me next to businessmen. But I've veered horribly off-course. Let's just say, I'm a big old cartoon geek and I'm kind of proud that I once got called Daria from the eponymous TV show. I mean, I had dark hair and glasses but the reference and reason why were all wrong. Flattering, but no. Also, I think Jem and her gang might have had something to do with shaping my fashion and music tastes. Come on, she was in an awesome, all-girl rock band, had earrings that magically changed her outfits, and huge hair! If you were a little girl and didn't get at least a little bowled over by her amazing-ness, I'd have to argue you had no soul. They had a rival girl band called The Misfits and when I first heard about the punk band The Misfits, of course I first thought of them.





Oh dear, I think I figured out what set off the "scene," trend.

The Misfits. You can tell their the "bad guys," because their make-up, clothes, and hair are tougher. They're like Motley Crue to Jem's Poison.


Also, My Little Pony and She-Ra may have had some influence too because just look at those colors and combinations. The old version of the dolls is also far superior than the new incarnation with their stupidly skinny frames and faintly autistic large eyes, bleh.






Anyway, I would catch The Muppet Show evey now and then (I even mentioned, randomly I admit, that I wanted to be Statler and/or Waldorf, the two old crones making fun of everone that sit in the corner, when I grew up. That comment practically made my friendship with my old roommate, hi again Pam!) because I loved weirdo Jim Henson and wanted to marry Kermit. Okay, if you look past the fact that he's a frog and a puppet, he's the perfect boy as film and television have proven over and over. Sweet, considerate, popular without knowing it, putting up with grief from the hot girl (Miss Piggy) and just trying to keep it together. He's like the guy every girl has a crush on! I said forget the fact that he's a frog!

In high school, sheer good fortune by way of the TV gods made The Muppet Show start broadcasting everyday in English in the evenings. I think it was through it that I first got captivated by Alice Cooper and where I got to learn about the wonder that is Vincent Price. I got to see Peter Sellers and John Cleese as they really were; brilliant British men who quite clearly hated their lives and everyone around them and channeled it through comedy, Prince getting made fun of for his name during the period he changed it to a symbol (arguing with a Muppet on how to pronounce it is probably one of the best things captured on film ever, he just keeps cracking up too!), and I think even Madonna showed up on there. They had a way of keeping an old vaudevillian air while still up-to-the-second current with music and personalities. They were groundbreaking in that they were freakin' puppets but for all intents and purposes were real characters and the subjects and people they featured were often cause for controversy everywhere else. I mean, this is Alice Cooper and Madonna in their heyday, not right now when they're seen as kitschy performance artists but then, when they shocked and outraged everyone. They were educational in the sense that they gave a taste of the whole world to the viewer and I know they touched probably everyone who ever watched because there's no better proof of Muppet longevity than meeting other film students.

I found this picture today while I was doing my internet browsings and it just reminded me of the humor and joy that is all of Muppet world. The internet meme cat and owl just seem to suit it.


I own seasons 1 and 2 because I have friends and family who know me well and I'll be watching them as soon as I get back to Boston. But until then, here are some truly unforgettable performaces that may actually rival the originals. It's exactly the kind of hilarious and slightly fucked up-ness (it's a giant singing bunny eating smaller bunnies and then they sing in his stomach) that's classic Muppets.


Bohemian Rhapsody The Muppet Show
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Stand by me - Muppets show-
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Generation Swine

Going to so many doctors means filling out so many information forms. I have no idea what to put in the occupation section. I don't really have one. I have a pitifully small paying job that apparently has forgotten I exist and I can't very well put them down (and I don't know how I'd translate it to Turkish) and it's been a year now since I've finished grad school so I can't say student and have the easy way out. So I put "writer" and grimace every. Single. Time. I can't even write writer without cringing and half-expecting alarm bells to go off along with a booming voice chanting, "Liar, liar, fake, fake, liar, fake, fa-" you get the idea. So in order to feel less like a fraud, I invite you over to MetalSucks where my third piece is out (I guess technically fourth because although the editor wrote about Phil Collen from Def Leppard's new marriage, I tipped him off!) and it's The Ten Best Hair Metal Band Names.

I'm kind of proud of how quickly I got over having any sort of reaction to comments. I usually take things to heart, hard. So, praise makes me feel almost stupidly happy and stays with me forever (like one nice commenter saying a certain description had him falling out of his chair laughing) and criticism kind of punches me in the throat and haunts me even longer (a certain professors comments on a short story I wrote my junior year come to mind). Now, it's more like a feeling of disappointment that people can be that stupid. My boyfriend forwarded me this cartoon and it couldn't be illustrated any better.

Though, I have a winner for favorite comment. It's hair metal week at MetalSucks and of course, there are the people who get all self-righteously angry and call it an abomination and blame it for sullying the good name of metal. No darlings, it's you who give metal, and metal fans a bad name. Not Bon Jovi ("shot through the heart and you're to blame..."). There's an ongoing countdown of bands that commonly get miscategorized as hair metal and Quiet Riot were on that list. I included them on my best hair band names but my introduction clearly stated that I borrowed bands that probably weren't strictly glam bands because for God's sake, have you ever heard their names? They are not good my friends, not good at all (this list highlights that). So of course the first comment was, "They're miscategorized as hair metal but have the best hair metal name?'

Argh.

But hold up. Sweet vindication came in the form of a comment back. It was something along the lines of, "Dude, it's two different writers. There isnt just one person called MetalSucks." Yeeees. There you have it. Different people, diffferent opinions. This is why we are not all clones of one another; we have separate brains and views. How hard is that to get really? My favorites are the ones that insult the site and say they can't believe they still read it. My good sir, it's a free site that has original, entertaining, and often informative content. It doesn't cater mainly to you and no one is forcing you to read it but of course you'll continue and it'll be for those very same reasons, as well as the fact you think someone will read your comments. Well, I did so I guess you win but let's not go there. People are so dim sometimes. Alice Cooper might not be glam but Trash is the very definition of a glam album so it makes sense it should be on the "Ten Best Must Have Glam Metal Albums." A musician or band doesn't have to be of a certain genre to put out an album within it. There's no point in trying to explain these things or comment back so I think it's a healthier alternative to take out my frustration on here. It's like when you meet a dangerous animal in the wild; DO NOT ENGAGE.

But I don't care what you think heavy metal elitists, hair metal rules! Long live glam!
This was a t-shirt on Threadless but I can't remember to whom credit belongs. I have the Turkish rip-off of it.

Did I mention, I'm seeing KISS in August? Oh yeah.

Doctor, doctor please.

Augh I have to get more tests. My favorite kind too; the see how high my sugar can get test. Basically, they make me drink a warm Coca Cola sweetened with about 9 packets of sugar and take blood every hour for the next four hours. It's annoying, takes a long time, and brings on the nausea like nothing else. My lovely body, as well as having polycystic ovaries and a problem with glucose has decided to go further down that road and try to turn me into an obese mama but I won't let it. I've been to like four doctors though and they all have walked me through all the insulin and sugar and metabolism crap but I just wish they'd tell me what to do instead of demonstrating it through witty diagrams and charts. My grandmother's radiation treatment has been put off for another week because her skin is so sensitive and needs time to heal (I get that from her too, just lightly tap me and I'll bruise) but this means she probably won't be coming to the summer house in Bodrum with my grandfather while the rest of us are there next week. Ah glorious summer! What a marvelous time of year! Why, it rivals Christmas! And I don't even celebrate Christmas!

Oh and I have to wear an armband with a monitor for three days to calculate my metabolism and the amount of calories I intake and burn on a daily basis. I'm feeling very Lindsay Lohan with my delightful new accessory.

I recently finished watching Wonderfalls, a TV show by the creator of Pushing Daisies and Dead Like Me. I loved the first episode when it came out my freshman year of college but then it never coincided with my schedule so I couldn't watch it and it ended after the first season. I love Bryan Fuller's TV shows. I watched Pushing Daisies because the previews looked so good and fell in love with it though it got a little twee at parts. I still have the second season to watch but I'm putting it off because I get so sad when I get to the end of any TV series I get so "involved" with. I bought Dead Like Me for my sister one New Year's because it looked interesting and all the reviews and descriptions made it sound so bizarre and different, in short, perfect for her (and me!), and of course we both pretty much got sucked into it and watched it all one weekend. All these shows have these iconoclastic, sarcastic, bitter girls (well, except Pushing Daisies, but that even has a detached male version of the Bryan Fuller protagonist) in the lead roles and revolve around death and life and the meaning of it all and pull attention to it in quirky ways (in Wonderfalls, inanimate animals talk to the main girl and make her do things that ultimately help out everyone around her and in Dead Like Me, Georgia is a reaper (of the grim variety) that helps set souls free so that they can die peacefully). They all have fucked up, weird situations (like touching a person kills them but touching them again brings them back to life) and are pretty much nothing like anything else on TV. Which is why I think the general public doesn't get them and they end after one or two seasons. Wonderfalls was especially good though and it kind of hit too close to home (she's 24 and wondering what the hell to do with her life and trying to figure out why the universe keeps messing with her) and I guess I got very invested in it because after my doctor day I came home and finished it and burst into tears during the last episode. I wish there was more. Maybe I'll rewatch Dead Like Me. Or get around to finishing Pushing Daisies because although I was one of the first to get all excited about it while it was on (I'm not bragging, I can clearly remember telling people to watch it after I saw the series premiere by myself), it didn't hook me the way the other two shows did. But I think it will because every time I've watched it, I've been distracted so I never gave it a fair chance.

Talking about TV and taking it so seriously might seem like a waste of time but it's not to me. I sincerely believed I would be working in television and it was my focus in college and my roommate and I would often make fun of the pretentious "film kids," because we were down-to-earth "TV kids," (hi Pam!). These past few years, I think I've moved past it on to film, and become one of the pretentious film kids. I still take my TV and TV-watching seriously and if I had the opportunity to write for a show that meant as much to me as these, I would jump in a second. But, I've sort of lost my drive and film seems to be going that way too and I just can't seem to get excited about either lately. Plus, I'd have to live in LA to have anything to do with any of them and, as we've witnessed, that is not the best option for me. Maybe I can do it later in life but I just hope it won't be too late. I can't make myself go do it now though because I'm not like my Emerson friends, I don't have the motivation and the come-hell-or-high-water-I-will-make-it attitude they do.

I'm home alone for the evening and so I think I will watch Peter Sellers' Being There. I've been meaning to watch it for a long time and I love Mr. Sellers, bitter man that he was (hey, kindred spirit?), so it's seems right. From what I've heard about it, it should suit my mood perfectly. But then I will watch True Blood and buck right up.

Dear Messrs. Ball and Fuller
Could you hire me to write for either of your shows? I'm good with gore and jaded fucked-up-ness (respectively, dear sirs) and I feel we could be magic together.
Love,
Leyla

Oh weird, Stephen Moyer from True Blood just showed up on-screen. He's on the Jay Leno show. A show I would definitely never write for. Bleh. But it's odd hearing his real accent instead of his hilarious southern one.

Some tumblr finds as well as the link to an article I wrote at MetalSucks.

Top Ten Worst Hair Band Names






That is possibly the best dress ever.

I come alive in the neon light.

I've been gone for a bit but my boyfriend was visiting and he stole the adaptor to my computer's charger for his laptop and I'm not comfortable writing when I'm not on my own device so I gave myself the week off. But, here I am, with my adaptor and charger and computer all set and ready to go. Though, now the boy is gone and that makes me sad. We've spent most of the last two years (and probably a good percentage of past years) not being in the same place but hopefully that will change by the end of September. I go back to Boston in August and he'll be in Austin, Texas for a while but his company will pay for him to come visit a few weekends until his work there is done so it won't be as bad as when he was in Iraq and I was in the States and we could barely talk to each other between the time difference and the shoddy internet/skype/phones.

While he was here, we mostly just hung out at home and had good home cooking (well, he did. I'm on my diet still and though it's not bad food, it's still trying on the nerves. Let's just say I've ingested more salad and greens in the last two weeks than most cows do) and watched movies and TV shows. It was just nice to relax in each other's company and it was usually too hot to do anything else during the day; Istanbul has been a sweltering 32 degrees Celsius (90 F.) and higher all week and it's not getting any cooler. Which means a lot of ice cream and even I was allowed two scoops of diet. Maras is my favorite ice cream, it's thicker and chewier than regular ice cream and is a Turkish specialty and even the diet version tastes good.

We did manage to make it out a few times. We took the ferry from my side, the European side of Istanbul, to the Asian and had a nice afternoon of wandering about trying to find the metal shop where he bought me a Motley Crue shirt four years ago. That shirt was one of my favorites and I have no idea what happened to it but as luck would have it, we found a similar one left in stock at the place. Akmer Pasaj (pasajs are "covered shopping arcades" as the Turkish-English/English-Turkish translations website zargan.com informs me. I couldn't really find a way to explain them but they're just passageways off main roads that have stores and shops all lined up across from each other and often are two or three floors) is known as the heavy metal pasaj of the Asian side but it kind of threw us when we found it and the entire first floor were bookstores. Everything from school books and textbooks to modern fiction to really, really old paperbacks and foreign books. The basement floor, once we found the stairs, had a bunch of music t-shirt and record shops and we got Elliot a Municipal Waste shirt as well as my Motley Crue shirt. The design and colors are the same except this is cut for a boy and my old shirt was a girl's shirt. Ugh, it looked so good on me too. Oh well, this will just be added to the pile of shirts I have to hem.

I also found a cool little necklace. It was a cut piece of fluoride and I liked the purples and greens and was all set to get it when the vendor dropped and cracked the end off. I was a little disappointed but I got it anyway and he dropped the price down 20 lira. It's not thaaaat noticeable, and the relative pointiness hasn't been disturbed much since it's hurts like a bitch if I try to hug anyone while wearing it.

We also took several trips to Istiklal Caddesi, kind of our version of Newbury St./Harvard Square. These aren't my pictures but you get the idea.



It used to be so beautiful all lined with cobblestones and trees but they ripped out the stones a couple years ago, and the trees, and replaced them with concrete. Now you just bake while you walk down, and occasionally almost get run over by the trolley that goes up and down the street, but thankfully there are hundreds of places to eat and shop and duck into. My mom's office, and the Music House and Borusan Arts and Culture buildings are there too as well as three, yes three, Starbucks. Which, my boyfriend and I use as bathroom stops because, well, they're just cleaner than the places we frequent.

We met up with a friend of a friend who has been in Istanbul for a while, and will be until August attending language programs, and it was nice to get to know a new face and take her out to dessert and hookah. The hookah itself, sour cherry flavor, was not very good. I'll be sticking to my traditional mint in the summer. It's bad for you but doesn't feel as bad if that makes sense. Kind of light and refreshing as opposed to the cherry that was too sweet and burned my throat. And of course, we had to go a couple times to our metal bar, DoRock. Whose name I didn't get until my boyfriend explained it to me last year; durak means stop, like on a bus or train schedule. So it's a music stop. Yeah I know. It used to be this crappy little hole in the wall that had hair metal and death metal nights and my boyfriend and I just loved to be crammed in there with everyone else, enjoying a beer and blinking back tears because the air was just so smoky and musty. He used to go hang out there everyday when he attended school in Istanbul and all the bartenders used to know him. It kind of upsets him now because it's become sort of a "cool" place to hang out and they're now sponsored by Efes beer so the walls and tables and seats have all been re-done and they have wireless internet and security now. They had a tattoo shop on the second floor but I'm assuming it got shut down because beer and hepatitus isn't that fun a mix.

It doesn't have the same atmosphere it used to have but it got really bad for a while. I mean they had a Nazi bartender and most of the people in there weren't that nice and you just got an uncomfortable feeling being there but this last time was a definite imrpovement from last year. No Nazi tattoos to be seen, only the old familiar bartenders working, and since the smoking ban is in effect, you could breathe and actually see more than a foot in front of you. The atmosphere was almost back to the normal with the fun and friendly vibe it used to have. Metalheads think they're cool but really, we're the biggest geeks. When you get a crowd of us we're all just so overwhelmed by finally having people we have something in common with to hang out with, that we just turn into adoring puppies and basically want to be nice to everyone. Of course, there will be those with superiority complexes and attitudes but Elliot and I do a good job of avoiding them and secretly making fun of them. I was pretty happy that the welcoming feeling that's been absent the last couple years was good and back. Elliot blames girls coming for the reason the bar got all spiffy and up-it's-own-ass, so to speak, but hey, it's the boys that bring the girlftriends. I used to go when there'd be only two other girls besides me and yeah it was nice but I don't think it was that terrible this last time we went. Though we did have a moment of panic when we stopped by to have a drink on another afternoon and they were playing country music. I think we were suitably, and loudly, derisive enough to get them to switch to classic rock. But anyway, he says all the improvements are for the ladies and why it's made the bar change from the little, unique place we used to love. Hey, they need to make money. TVs, wireless internet, and girls are the way you keep metal boys coming and spending money. They're just trying to keep a bar running, it's not their fault what the customers do because the customers are what bring the other elements as well as the money.

On a different note, (haha no pun intended) cover band we'd heard in the past was playing again the night we went and it was hilarious. They did all the popular songs like, "The Trooper," and, "Electric Eye," and though they're not particularly ood, I'd say they're terrible but the singer's voice and the drummer are pretty decent, the enthusiasm and joy with which they play and psych up everyone is priceless. They were bellowing, wailing, and soloing all over the place and they got everyone to sing along and have a good time. It's moments like that; sitting at the bar with my Efes and my Elliot, singing along to, "Aces High," where the lead singer makes up a large portion of the lyrics, and just enjoying the company of friendly, like-minded people makes me so happy to be who I am and where I am. It helps that we always get checked out because we speak English to each other and Turkish to everyone else and we're familiar enough that they recognize us but don't really know our story. I like having that mystery there, it's silly but it's fun. This is probably my favorite thing to do with my Elliot; hang out and enjoy our music with nice drinks at DoRock and then go off and have a hookah with nice tea and snacks. It's even better in the winter. Checking in at the bar and listening to the songs that come up on their playlist, making bets about what the next video will be, and then warming up with salep (another Turkish drink) and nargile (as we call our hookah) at the tea house before heading home.

We did some touristy stuff that i include in my usual Istanbul time like going to the Covered Bazaar as well. We stopped by my usual stores in there and picked up various gifts for friends, a beautiful Iranian miniature to put in my new apartment, and I also got a pretty great pendant. The vendor, who loves me and my sister, told me it was a jaguar claw with semi-precious stone embeliishments but eh, I'm not sure I believe him, though I'd like to. Poor jaguar though. At least I gave it a good home. I also got a ring inscribed with Tibetan script. My mom got one for herself and my sister too and later at home figured out what it said. It says om mani padme hum and is a mantra particularly associated with the four-armed Shadakshari form of Avalokiteshvara. Mani means the jewel and Padma-the lotus. It is the six syllabled mantra of the bodhisattva of compassion, Avalokiteshvara.

The ring is silver with the script in gold and the pendant has 29 stones on it, including on the little attachment that hangs from the chain. I'll get better pictures once I get my hands on my camera and get going on Task 5. Heh, like Eddie on my shirt?


My jewelry collection is getting out of hand and I'm really looking forward to getting to organize it all when I get back to Boston and move into the new apartment which will thankfully, have space for all my junk.

Elliot's back off to Boston today but my sister just got back from a two week vacation in Mykonos, Greece so it's good to have her here and make her hang out with me so I won't get too bummed. We've got a busy couple of weeks coming up with a trip to Salzburg, going down to Bodrum in southern Turkey with the cousins, and less fun, a bunch of doctor's appointments. I haven't done much writing or reading recently but hopefully that'll pick up but for now, I listen to, "Living After Midnight," and wait for dinner like those stray cats that linger by the fish vendors on Istiklal. We're famous for our stray cats you know. They're everywhere and probably the reason why I love cats so much.

A wanna-be Egglet?

Eeeveryone's a Critic

Hahahaha, oh man I just got a pretty smart bitch-slap from reality.

I used to write for a bunch of music sites, mostly metal, and then I stopped. Lately, I kind of missed it so I sent an email off to a site that I thought would best fit me. I've talked about Metal Sludge and how much I used to love it, and Metal Sucks (www.metalsucks.net) is pretty much in the same vein. Brash, outspoken commentary and opinions on everything. They liked my stuff and assigned me my first review today and I was pleasantly surprised. Most of the stuff I get to review blows. I actually liked this album and said as much. Well, this site enables people to comment and maaaan did I cause an uproar. Okay, slight exaggeration but there was some attitude. I think all the comments so far were damning me, and the site via me, for having such awful taste and touting it as quality. Probably didn't help that there's a banner advertising said band over the review.

I was kind of caught off-guard and was all set to be upset but then, come on it's a review! It's one person's opinion on a subject. It's not the word of all truth and goodness and of course there will be people who disagree. The ones who do will be the ones speaking up and making a fuss because haha, that's what I would do and have! Also, judging by the overall theme of the comments, I don't think they really got my tone. Oh well, boys are dense.

At least I know people are reading, I was never too sure of that any place else. And if I may indulge myself, I'm the one who gets to write and be published, not you, puny metal fans!

Bahahaha.

Here's the link, have at me. Oh and all the writers' names are silly puns and play-ons of rock stars and I chose Leyla Ford. Both keeping my name and giving a nod to Ms. Lita Ford from The Runaways (and later solo stuff that was kind of meh).

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.

Words Addendum

Okay, I take it back. Everyone should be able to write. Writing is the best therapy for anything. It's the clearest way you can express yourself and it lasts long than the spoken word.

Not everyone should be published though.

I like owls. I'd rather be a cat* though if I had the choice. Sleep all day and wake up for hugs and food.

Housecat duhh.

Task 27: Words

I like to read historic fiction novels. The Amelia Peabody series is one such example. It's by Elizabeth Peters and revolves around a strong-minded woman in Victorian England and her family of Egyptologists and reluctant detectives. They're filled with mystery and grandeur and coy loves scenes, it is Victorian England after all, and best of all, mostly take place in Egypt amidst tombs and pyramids and excavations. I secretly wanted to be an archaeologist when I was younger because I was so enamored by Egypt and ancient cities and cultures (though, most of the "interesting" old civilizations are located in extremely hot climates so I doubt I would've lasted long in the field) so these books appeal to that side of me, as well as the side that appreciates an affected style of writing that suits the genre and time.

Only the book on the bottom right is part of this series, she has several others hence the other books.

General fictionalizations of historic events and people just appeal to me. I started reading the Memoirs of Cleopatra by Margaret George and the only reason I stopped in the middle of the 1152 page novel was because I moved and the book got packed up and I didn't get around to finishing it, though, I kind of know how it ends. Mythology and history appeal to me because they're just such excellent fodder for stories. The Ottoman Empire is a new(er) interest of mine. We never studied it in school so all I know comes from independent reading and the most intriguing aspect of it, of course, is the harem and women of the sultan and pashas. There aren't that many well written factual books on the subject, I've searched for them and the best I coud find were basically just text-book style writing; bare facts and deductions. I like there to be some flair in the sources I read. Which is why I could never study history because a lot of the books are just too dry for me. Though, my friend who studied it in college and peripherally in grad school has a knack for finding the interesting from a pile of boring. Like, did you know Chairman Mao would never brush his teeth? He would just drink green tea.

This is why historical fiction is a favorite genre of mine. It has all the interesting aspects of history and events that happened in the past, along with a creative twist. The Sultan's Harem by Colin Falconer was another example of this and the first harem-related fiction I read. It was all about Hurrem Sultan, the conniving concubine that got the sultan of the Ottoman Empire to actually marry her. No one knows her motives for sure, there are no sources that detail this but the creative liberties the author, along with reasonable hypotheses, took with the tale were both engrossing and on some level, believable. I picked up another such book yesterday, Harem by Asli Sancar.

Within the first 20 pages I realized this book was possibly the worst book I've ever read. There is no subtext, no deeper writing, and no style to speak of. The characters' thoughts and emotions are splashed about like it's going out of style and the prose is not only stilted, it's boring. There's nothing redeeming about it, it is simply a badly-written book. I used to have a thing about reading books all the way through no matter what but in recent years, I just stop. There's no reason to waste my time when the author can't even be bothered to employ writing techniques you learn in middle school (i.e. showing not telling; allowing the actions and feelings of a particular event or character come through organically by way of description, rather than just throwing it in the reader's face straight off the bat. That's lazy writing and a sure example of someone who has no business writing a novel), and frankly, it kind of makes me angry that the person managed to get this edited, sold, published, and distributed when it's evident there's no reason for anyone to read it.

This might sound cruel but it's just what I think. Not everyone can be a writer. For the love of God, I write in this thing everyday and want to be a published writer one day but under no circumstances do I consider myself a writer. Being a writer is too big a deal for me to ever take it lightly or not treat it seriously.

I will probably give this Harem book a few more chapters but really, I've made up my mind.

Which brings me to task 27, read Anna Karenina. You're supposed to read the classics in high school. Well, since my high school was run by crazed Marxists who believed happy endings were bourgeous (this has irked me for YEARS. I like happy endings! Who cares if they're trite? When it comes down to the bare bones, books and movies are entertainment. Why should I waste my time watching something that will devastate or upset me when I can be happy? Why would I write something that's horribly depressing when I can lift someone's spirits? They're escapes from reality after all. Give me one person that would rather escape a dreary life by subjecting themselves to something like Waiting For Godot, and I will show you a sociopath). So we read Margaret Atwood's The Handmaiden's Tale, a painfully large helping of Brecht and Beckett (GAH!), and okay, Madame Bovary by Flaubert which is counts as a classic. And in 9th grade we read George Orwell's Animal Farm and Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities which I do appreciate because there are always so many references to Madame Defarge even today and without that book, I would never get them. In French class we read Sartre and de Beauvoir (both of whom I'm kind of turned off by because I have enough crazy in my head without having to take in account various theories of life having no meaning), and Camus and Malraux. At the time, I squirmed and complained and whined and as a result, still have a certain block against the French, but at least now I can see that it was literature. Not any I'd seek out on my own but recognized literature.

I decided to embark on my own education in terms of literature because reading The God of Small Things in IB English just didn't cut it for me. This is partly why I joined a book club in Boston, I can make new friends, enjoy a night out, and read current literature, and why I decided to have reading Anna Karenina as one of my tasks. Except, Anna's kind of boring me. The story is interesting and I'm not having trouble over the names as most people seem to, I got used to them, but it's just very slow going. It doesn't take 18 pages to explain why a woman would be mad that her husband is sleeping with the nanny. But though I've stopped for now, I kind of want to see this book through just to understand why it's so lauded and why it deserves the title of classic. Why does something count as literature? To me, it because the combined efforts of story-telling and the actual story make for a memorable read but I can't even begin to comprehend why Galileo would be considered a classic play. If it's groundbreaking subject matter sure but um, the heliocentric theory was introduced waaay before the play.

In between, I have other books I want to read to. I recently read 1984 and I really liked it (as opposed to Animal Farm), and I have Stranger in a Strange Land on deck as well. I admit, that's mostly because of the Iron Maiden reference, though really they're referencing the book and not the other way 'round! I've recently gotten more in to sci-fi, and I already had my tendency for the supernatural, so I have a couple of Stephen King novels in my future as well. I tried reading IT in high school but lost interest but I really enjoy his short stories so I think The Dark Tower series might be a better fit for me.

Yesterday I also got The Flea Palace by Elif Safak which is apparently my mom's friend's (the one who accompanied us to see her and Mercan Dede in Belgium) favorite.

I truly do love reading books. I have since I was little and I don't know if it's the fact that it was high school and annoying teachers that affected my dislike of every book deemed quality literature and classics then (I seem to have an attitude for every book they assigned. But come on! HAPPY ENDINGS ARE BOURGEOIS? WHO SAYS THAT? And to a teenage girl for crying out loud!), or just that I didn't like them. I always felt like kind of poseur because all writers refer to other writers, classic ones at that, and I've never read Hemmingway or Faulkner and I didn't care much for Catcher in the Rye. Maybe I'm not pretentious enough, I mean, my favorite authors are Roald Dahl and Christopher Moore and rock stars that hit rock bottom and publish their exploits. Nobody would call them class literature but... I might. I think Matilda is a classic kid's book (oh yes, and there are the many sub-genres of kinds of classics; kids, American, European etc.) and that everyone should read Lamb. But, if it helps me feel less like someone posing as "writer" then I will take my time and get to the books that have been deemed classic.

I promise, I still will have opinions on them and I won't like them just because they're well known. Ahem, Satanic Verses; couldn't stand the ratio of 30 metaphors: 1 page. But I do have The Ground Beneath Her Feet waiting on a shelf back in Boston. See, in terms of books and writing, I'm willing to give second and sometimes third chances.
As for my book club, I'll be missing the next two dates but I will be reading the books because I want to see if Margaret Atwood is actually a good read with Lady Oracle, rather than the kill-myself-authoress. Not to mention Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin which is a reimagining of Lavinia's life; the second wife of Aeneas from Virgil's Aeneid. It's Greek mythology reimagined, starring (my favorite) a heroine, and I was never as familiar with Aeneas' story as with all the other Greek heroes so I'm looking forward to it and maybe doing some pre-reading as well! My boyfriend is actually bringing the book with him when he comes to visit me here in Istanbul.

Anybody have any other suggestions?

Rabbit Don't Come Easy

I swear, I'm not this angry and negative and filled with vitriol in real life.

Hot Little Summer Girl

I don't know why, but summer has always been the shittiest time of year for me. And yes I will swear.

When I was in school it was never the have-fun-with-your-friends extravaganza that American TV shows and films would have you believe because I went to an international school and in the summer, everyone would go back to their respective homes. Not in Turkey. My home was Turkey, so I'd of course be left all alone. I think it was in my last year of high school that I actually had people to hang out with in the summer because even my best friends would go visit family in various parts of the world.

Then in college, again I was in a different country. So while it seems that Americans tend to go to school near their homes (seriously, this confused the hell out of me. Not one of my friends was as close to their family as I was/am and yet the furthest they lived was 3 hours. By car. Okay, there were the token out-of-staters but still) I crossed an ocean every summer to go see my family. And subsequently sat at home for four months.

I used to go to summer camp in the Adirondacks when I was younger. I went five summers and yes I had a lot of fun. But looking back now, and thinking about myself then, it was sour probably a third of the time. Let's see, it was the first time I ever, sincerely, got called ugly. Superficial? Yes. Does it bother me? Yes. Does it bother me now? No, the kid was a little shit. Am I bitter? Well, I'm still thinking about it ten years later, what do you think?

My sort-of breakdown happened in the summer. As did my next one. Health problems, deaths, worries, all come swimming to the surface in the summer as if they know the sea is all right for entry, so they have to muck it up somehow.

I can remember one, just one, absolutely perfect summer in my 24, 25 in September, years. It was when I was 19 and was stuck in Boston for summer classes but ended up having so much fun for the 6 weeks I was there. Then, I was in Houston with my mom and sister and little cousin and we had so much fun there, albeit burning to a crisp every time we stepped foot outdoors.

I promised myself, I swore to the heavens, somewhat literally, that this summer would be great. No sadness, no badness, just radness if you'll allow me to be lame. Now, I thank the universe and God that this summer isn't a horrific mess. I am grateful that I have my family and my boyfriend will be coming soon, and we have nice days ahead.

But...

It's still summer. It's still clouded with uncertainty and blahness and don't even get me started on the heat. I can't stand heat. People might complain about warm weather and humidity but I hate it. I don't use the word hate, in fact I recently had a conversation about the word hate and how strong it is and how it shouldn't be tossed around carelessly because words are important. It is with complete certainty and absolute calm that I proclaim, I HATE SUMMER. I hate the hot weather, I hate the humidity, I hate the lack of energy and clothing choices it gives me, I hate not having anything to do, I hate being alone all the time, I hate that my options for not being alone involve me tagging along awkwardly with others, I hate leaving my family as will inevitably happen at the end of it, I hate it.

Summer sucks. That seasonal depression stuff is the exact opposite for me. Most people get it in the fall and winter when there's less sun, well you can take your sun and shove it where it don't shine because I like it that way. I don't appreciate people calling me a psycho for recoiling from it and from warm weather because personally, I think you're just kidding yourselves.

The only thing I like about summer is that I can swim in the sea. The sea is frigid cold.

I'd rather the salt burn my eyes than sit under the sun and burn myself any day. Tans are for people who want to look like beef jerky. I don't. I hate the atmosphere of summer by the sea. I hate the people, I hate the loud music, I hate the noise, I hate the cloying smell of perfume that fills the air. I'm talking in particular about Bodrum. Bodrum is in southern Turkey and my family has a summer home there. There are enough bedrooms to fit all 14 of us (on my mom's side) and guests and the cook and it's right by the sea; the garden leads down to it. It is glorious and I've been bitching at everyone to make plans to go there this summer too. But in the last few years hotels and clubs have popped up all around it. And thus we have the aforementioned list of hate. Let me give you an example of the sort of people that we have the joy of being surrounded by, every time we go. One particular plane ride down there, I was sitting next to this woman. She had ample cleavage she showed off with an unflattering top, a stupid large hat, dark sunglasses that she did not take off once, and every few minutes she would spritz herself with her cheap perfume. God, I hate cheap perfumes. They smell like plastic and sugar. She killed my sense of smell and I can only hope she didn't do permanent damage to my cat's. All she was missing was a cellphone glued to her head. Which she turned on as soon as we landed and started whining into it almost immediately. Behind me and in front were a group of men. They wore their trendy colorful shirts with the collars unbuttoned and had even more choking amounts of cologne on than the woman, and every so often would demand more drinks from the stewardess. They got so loud and so drunk on that 40 minute flight that it went past amusing to just kiro. Our version of a guido.

I don't hate these people. It's not their fault they're morons. I just hate their actions and that they believe this is what constitutes success and "coolness."

They're always present but in the summer, it seems like they get a license to multiply and assume the full-annoyance position.

I can't wait for my birthday in September. My birthday sucks beyond measure every year but it seems to act as the big finish. One final hurrah and from then on good can flourish again.