Book review's the thing to do.

It's been a bit of a slow start, but I'm going alright. In this edition:

The 5 Love Languages
The Art of Asking
Sonnet 18
The Hunger Artist
Hills Like White Elephants
Hamlet

The 5 Love Languages- Someone once told me that this was a life-changing book. It saved her marriage. Then a friend got it for me for Christmas. And it's true. I was eating it up. It was a quick read. It's not very long, but it uses every bit of its space to change your life. I learned that my husband and I are complete opposites, and that my love language (quality time) is really difficult to attain with the military lifestyle. EEK! But seriously, if you're having trouble in your marriage, if you're not connecting to your partner, or if you're thinking about having a partner, get this book. It's amazing. You find out what you need to feel loved, and you find out what your partner needs to be loved. Then you can both make the effort count. It's fabulous. Read it.

The Art of Asking by Amanda Palmer- Amanda Palmer is one of those famous people who is almost more famous for being her than she is for what she's famous for (kick ass tunes, btw). Her internet presence is fantastic with regular tweets and facebook posts. She posts longer things on her website blog and frequently connects with her fans. The book talks about her life and her music, but it's mostly about how she funded an amazing album through Kickstarter. People call her a crowd-funding pioneer. I think that misses the point completely. She's a people pioneer. What I got out of her book was courage. Courage to be vulnerable, courage to feel my feelings, courage to reach out for help, and courage to ask for what I want. If you're an artist, or if there's anything you want to do, but can't, I recommend this book highly. I'm currently in the process of asking for what I want (a career in writing in case you were wondering, and I know you might actually have been), and all because she gave me the courage. Also, there are some super cute parts about her relationship with Neil Gaiman. Wastepaperbasket.

Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare- “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?” It's that one. If you know it, like it, like poetry, or think you might, you need to stop right now, pick up your phone, and download The Love Book app. This sonnet is read by Tom Hiddleston. Yeah. You're welcome. I chose this poem to do a paper on in one of my classes, so I thought I'd grace you with my review. I've read/listened to this poem tons of times, but all of a sudden this time I suddenly realized, “Holy crap! It's about death/dying!” Ahh!!! Basically using the seasons of the year for seasons of life, ole Bill there is telling his love that she is beautiful, and he's sorry she's sick, that it really sucks, but it's part of life and at least this way, she won't ever be an old woman and be well, not beautiful. And as long as there are people around to read the poem, she will live forever. How effing romantic is that? Hashtag for real. I love it. I think it is a wonderful expression of love. There's a reason Billy S is a master. And I will always highly recommend him as a must read! So, I highly recommend this as a must read!

The Hunger Artist by Franz Kafka- Whoa. This. Just this. Let me sum it up first. Way back in the day, people would pay to watch someone come into their town and not eat. This is the hunger artist. People buy tickets to see an emaciated man fast even longer. It's commercialized as what, so it's profitable. Until people lose interest and then what is the hunger artist to do? This particular one has a sort of obsession with fasting for as long as he possibly can. This cannot be healthy. Anywho, he joins a circus, withers away, and then divulges his motive. The reason will surprise you! I like spoilers, but others don't so send me a message if you want to know why without reading this. It's a short story, and probably worth it, but only if you're committed to it. I found it to be really slow through the first reading. It starts out a bit dull, but then it sort of gets a bit strange. Then you're like oh my gawd, are you for real. It's a really interesting study in human nature. We all do things that sound all up and altruistic, but there's some kind of not-so-noble motivation behind them. It begs the question, Does that make our actions any less good? Hmm... Thought provoking. Fair warning, this is character-driven, not plot-driven, so if you're waiting to see what happens next, keep waiting. The point of this is to find out what's up with this guy. You follow his journey, if you want to. I leave this one up to you. I'm still on the fence. It's a good story, but I'm not in a hurry to reread it or anything. But you can say you read Kafka, so there's your conundrum for the day.

Hills Like White Elephants by Ernest Hemingway- Hem's my bro, so it's a safe bet I will always recommend him as well. Everything I've read by Hemingway has been beautiful and tragic. Makes sense right? He was depressed as hell, so he had an excellent grasp on the beauty of tragedy and sadness. The phrase that comes to mind is “All the Feels” because seriously, all the feels. Hemingway evokes a total range of emotions even in a short story. This one leaves you wondering what happened, and while you're trying to figure out what the couple was arguing about, you realize, it doesn't matter. The point of this piece is how people interact. I'm really into that lately. I love things that are studies of the human condition. Things that don't really have anything to do with a plot, so much as you want to know what's going on with the characters. Hemingway captures all kinds of emotion, preserving it in a little jar so people don't forget it exists. Because we're all people, and we all feel things, and everything we feel is beautiful in its own way. Anyway, you won't know what's going on, but it's beautiful. And you'll be disappointed at the ending. I always am with him. But it's worth it.

Hamlet by William Shakespeare- This one's for my class, too. But I love reading Shakespeare. I read him when I feel not-so-smart. I've found that if you can remove yourself from the minutia, and see the thing as a whole, you can get it. Then, of course you run into the problem of not noticing theme and tone and what-have-you, but as far as getting the story, I've got it down. Hamlet is seriously quotable. To be or not to be. To thine own self be true. It's all there. Along with a ghost, a skeezy mother/aunt, uncle/father situation, and madness. Everyone goes cray. (Do people even say that anymore?) They all lose their shit and everyone dies. It's great. I enjoyed it. Plus, you can watch the Royal Shakespeare Company's version with David Tennant and Sir Patrick Stewart. Winning.

Stay tuned, for (hopefully)

Macbeth

Yes, Please

Drums of Autumn

probably some Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

A bag of cats

My brain has something in common with Loki the trickster god. It's a bag of cats. You can smell the crazy coming off me. 

My mental health practitioners would frown upon me using the word "crazy". My therapist two therapists ago used to ask me if I thought I was crazy when I said I was crazy. But you get the idea. I've been in country since September and I'm on my second psychologist and my very first psychiatrist ever. It's really very exciting to have someone who specializes in crazy drugs! 

I was first diagnosed with depression in a round about fashion when I was something like 16. My family doctor thingy prescribed me an antidepressant. That was it. No, you have depression, go see a therapist. Just meds and on my way. So I took them cause duh. And they worked for a really long time until they didn't. Then about three? four? five? years ago they stopped, so I switched to a diffrent antidepressant. It worked out alright. With a side of antianxiety for those hail mary moments. Then a death in the family, a move, some kind of strange world with no real purpose that was kind of a purgatory of sorts happened. About 32 appointments into my prolific career as a patient of the most patient therapist I've ever met, she diagnosed me with borderline personality disorder. WTF?!?! But it's true. All of it! Bag of cats. Then a month later we moved again. And now you're all caught up.  That was my Doofenschmirtz flashback.

Anyway, I'm now on my very first antipsychotic. I feel very Girl, Interrupted, except not really. It's really really helped. I've made it through multiple "cycles" without wanting to run away or cause immense physical harm. So, naturally, I'm psyched!!! (see what I did there?) I actually had a moment last week when I was just fine. We were half way through the day and all of a sudden I had one of those Keanu meme whoa moments. 

So, Yay, me!!! That's pretty much all I wanted to talk about was that I'm finally on some meds that I think are actually doing really good. They make me hella sleepy, but they're really good. And things are good. And I think I might actually be coming out of some kind of funk, so that's exciting. And this is a good time to have a mental health thing. There's awareness out the wazoo! Yay, interwebs! Yay hashtags! Yay! 

How Jehovah's Witnesses Taught Me to Never Trust Anyone.

I live in Germany. It's like An American in Paris except Germany and no cool musical dance numbers. Just a lot of rain. And bread. Lots of bread. Anyway, I was recently visited by two very nice Jehovah's Witnesses. Here's the story:

I'm helping the kids with their laundry and the doorbell buzzes. Thinking it might be our landlord, I go down to open it. On the other side of the door however, is not our kindly landlord with the goofy hat, but two smiling German women with cute hats. And yes, I said smiling Germans. It happens.

The younger one introduces herself, first name only, and this is her mom.

Okay. Good for you.

 Then she says she wants to ask me a few questions about government, says she's looking for English-speaking people.

So I'm thinking this is some kind of survey thing or this girl is gathering info for statistics or something.

She babbles something about corruption, and asks why I think that is.

So I give some sort of answer and she says yes, here, let me show you this bible verse that gives an explanation.

So I'm like, ... o... k... I'm being polite at this point, but I really want them to go. My hair's a mess, I'm in sweatpants, and to be perfectly honest, I was using my sweater to cover up my non-bra.

I then learned that the kingdom of god is the corruption-less government that god promised us. I even got a nifty pamphlet... and caught completely off guard.

So the lesson here is that when some nice person comes to your door implying that she's just trying to get an American's opinion on European governments, close the door and run because she's a politician for Jesus. Okay, I mean seriously, here I am thinking I finally got asked questions that might go into some kind of poll results or something and then all of a sudden, Jesus walked the earth. That's very disconcerting. I mean, how am I supposed to trust anything anyone says ever again? I feel so used...

Derpin' hard or hardly derpin'.

I recently tried to take a selfie. It didn't work out well for me.

I mean, I'm not a classic beauty, but I'm not a toad either. I'd say I'm right smack in the middle of average. If I apply a little effort and an ungodly amount of cosmetics (not tested on animals), I even think I look quite foxy. Then I get a little cocky, and think, “The world needs to know how damn good I look today.”

And then it happens. I take the selfie and every single one looks like I'm about to sneeze or have just been goosed. What is that crap? I'm over here looking adorable, but all I can come up with is some kind of horrid school photo quality selfie. All I need is that weird blue and purple hazy background and you wouldn't know the difference.

I derp hard. If only the word “derp” were around when I was growing up...

Well, it's actually probably a good thing it wasn't or I'd have been the ermahgerd girl. 

You know, if I really think about it, that's not true either. Like I said, I'm smack in the middle of average. Always have been. I wasn't derpy enough to be a meme (hahah like those were around then lol) and not popular enough to be noticed. I tended to hover just out of the way, in the shadows of the recesses of teenagerness. In some kind of popularity limbo. I was always trying to make my way up and out, but only until I got my shit together and realized I was in the best place ever. Where else can you judge the entirety of man, but back in the corner where you can see everyone?

So, I wouldn't have been a meme. That's a little depressing in itself, but not really. And as for those defunct selfies, I figure those are the faces you get when you talk to me, so what the hell. I mean, it's not like I hide the derpy faces when I'm around people. I let my derp flag fly! I feel like Chris Farley, 

and have been told not to make myself ugly. Meh, it is what it is. I'm doing the best with what I've got. This is the part where you think of Anne Hathaway in The Princess Diaries where she looks in the mirror pre-princess, and says, “This is as good as it's gonna get.” 

And it for real is. Besides, I don't think funny people are supposed to be the uber pretty ones, it just wouldn't be fair to every one else.

By the way, popular kid, I saw you pick your nose. You didn't think I noticed, but I did.

O Captain, my captain.

I'm angry. And sad. And on the verge of tears. Seriously. Robin Williams has committed suicide. It's terrible news, folks. Celebrities die all the time, but some how, for my generation, this is our first real big guy to go. He was in our children's movies. We thought he was just the funniest thing ever! I remember watching an interview thing on tv with Robin Williams and John Travolta about the movie Wild Hogs. The interviewer asked Robin what it was like to work with a great actor like Travolta. I was like, excuse me, kid. Robin Williams is WAY better than creepy ole Travolta. Totally. I was actually mad at that poor little interviewer. lol.

So, I've seen people saying things like "I don't get it" and "Why would he do this" or "But he was so funny". I'd like to address these things. I certainly don't know Robin  Williams, but I know his ailment. If you've never been depressed, you can't possibly know what it's like to feel like that. No, you can't. Normal people get sad or even FEEL depressed, but that doesn't mean they have depression. The difference is that those of us who suffer from clinical depression can't just "snap out of it" or "cheer up" or even "fix what's wrong". Most of the time, nothing's wrong. Or everything's wrong. But when someone thinks of taking their own life, it's often the only way they can see out. It's not a selfish act. It's not about other people. It's about life. About not being able to see that there is a life in front of you. All those things people tell you you have to live for are just more things you feel bad about. They're just more things you're screwing up or not doing right. You feel like people would really be better off without you because you honestly cannot see the good. Good doesn't even register. Winston Churchill called it his "big black dog" that followed him around. It's accurate. J.K. Rowling used her experiences with depression to influence the dementors. All I can think of is Ron Weasley's comment that he felt like he'd never be cheerful again. And it's true. I think of it as a big pit. A giant hole, and when you're in the pit, you can't see a way out, or how you'll ever feel anything but that gut wrenching emptiness, guilt, and pain. And you know, sometimes, the funniest people are the most messed up. Look at me, I'm freaking hilarious. And messed up as heck. I think it's the depression lens that you see through that makes it so you can view the world in that funny and yet depressing way that is so common.

Now that I've cleared that up, I'd like to say how angry this makes me. It feels personal. Not like it was about me, but it hit me in a personal way. I've been thinking of Ernest Hemingway as my personal and professional hero for a really long time now, and I've just now gotten over the romance of living hard and fast. Living for the experience. I mean, I'd still rather regret the things I've done than the missed experiences, but I don't want to just do everything I want until I can't deal with it anymore. That was a huge thing for me. HUGE! And now, at about the same age, and able to grow the same beard, someone else I held in esteem has taken this way out. No, it's not the easy way out. I would argue it's the hardest way there is. I just wish someone would have been able to help him. I wish that he would have been able to see how much it was worth it, how much his work and his life meant to so many people. Now we're left with a deficit. One of the truly funny, not just crass people in the world has left it. Imagine what he'd have had to say about getting old.

So I'm going to watch some of his movies and wish him safe travels into the afterlife. May he still be making them laugh.

Short Story- Somehow It Was All Beautiful

Today I walked out into the tiny village in which I live. The work day had only just begun for the shop keepers on the main street. It was all of ten A.M., for, you see, things move more slowly here in Turkiye than in many other parts of the world.

Living in Turkey has ben like living on a completely different planet. Live moves along at its own pace here. The shops open whenever they please, which is why, at the not-so-early hour of ten, I was witness to the opening rituals of my village.

Normally, the dust and disorder seem to grate against my nerves, turning me vehemently against this friendly and haphazardly cohesive culture. But today. For some reason, today was different. The sky was brighter. The air was cleaner. It was all really quite charming.

This tiny street in this tiny village has been puzzle pieced together for at least the past twenty years. The result being that the sidewalk is not a sidewalk in the strictest sense of the word. In reality, it is simply a pathway made of a myriad of paving materials including, what I am almost certain is kitchen tile. It is all in varying heights, widths, and states of disrepair.

This morning, as I set out on the important task of checking for new movies and procuring lunch from my favorite doner shop, I owned the street. There were no men out to call, "Abla, you need carpet/haircut/watch?" The shop keepers were occupied with hosing down their bit of the sidewalk or sweeping out their store fronts. The old men were sitting down to tea on the tables set on the side of the street. So relaxed, in fact, is the attitude of my street, for it has become MY street, that the men leave their shops, wide open, to go and sit down for their tea.

And it was today, as I walked around the parked cars so as to not disrupt this most inane yet sacred of rituals, that I saw the beauty inherent in the simple. Today, I saw the little old man who makes the doners. I saw  him ready his knives, saw his skill with the meat on the spit, saw how things are done here. This man is always assisted by a young boy whom I can only assume is a relative, as nepotism seems to be the rule here rather than the exception. This man - these people - take pride in their work and the simplicity of life. As well they should, because today it was beautiful.

My, that antidepressant sure looks nice.

You ever get depressed? Happened to me. Like when I was a kid. I'm on medication though, so I'm better.

Then some of my friends who are, if you can believe it, bigger hippies that I am started talking about how they got off antidepressants after like seventeen years. I was like, WTF? You can do that? I'm gonna do that!!! Because, you guys know, I can

So, after much research on Dr. Google and talking to my therapist who by the way was not so much with the on board thing, I decided I can do it!

Except that then I discovered the true depth of my disease and decided, eh, maybe not.

And it's a good thing too because then shit got real. Like really real. I sort of lost my shit. So, that's not happening. I'm working on it. It's a journey, but I've definitely decided that those antidepressants sure do look nice.