If you read this regularly, you probably know that this year I spent a lot of time being depressed. And when I wasn’t busy being depressed, I was busy writing about being depressed. So this week I’m going to try something different. End things off on something other than a downer note.  I hereby present to you a highlight of things that made me feel good manic, incredibly inspired and or funny down there during the last year. Celebrity citing included/exploited!

1.     Todd Barry gave me a compliment.

This year was the first time since Grade 11 film studies that I actually put together a video. (See above.) I wrote it with actor Ayma Letang, and got funnymen/hornymen Cam Mcleod and Ryan Steele to co-star with us. Our friend Kar Harvey did a superb job shooting and editing it, despite having little experience, and our beautiful buds at Daughters of Dawn provided the sexy outfits to accommodate each one of our polar opposite personalities. (Yes, those were plugs.)

It was probably one of the best days I had this year and the end result is one I’m really proud of.

Perhaps the most interesting part of the story (for me) is that I bugged my friend who’s friends with Todd Barry to email him and ask him what he thought, because I’m annoying like that.  (For those who aren’t comedy nerds and don’t know who Todd Barry is, he’s this guy.) I assumed he would hate it since I assume all comedians hate anything that doesn’t involve them, and was hoping to use his negative reaction in an exploitative way. Turns out, he thought it was funny, which gave me a sense of purpose, acceptance and accomplishment that only an “icky” man in his late 40 could make me feel. (Icky is in quotes because it’s someone else’s words, not mine. I think he’s pretty cute.) Now I’m trying to convince him to let me interview him, and he’s on the fence, and I’m one step away from starting a Facebook petition or something to get him to agree to it. Would you sign it? Actually, would you start it for me? I’m too lazy.

2.     I was invited to apply for several of my dream jobs. (I didn’t get them.)

It’s awesome when things come to you, particularly things that happen to involve your dreams coming true. You know, rather than you having to put yourself out there, raw and exposed, and then obsessively overanalyze everything that you could have done wrong while you wait for a response you might never get.

Anyhow, I was invited to put my name in the running for several big opportunities this year, which was, quite simply, thrilling. A thrill I hadn’t felt for a long time, if ever. I didn’t get these opportunities but it made me feel like I’m on the right path and I’m on the radar of some important, powerful people. Looking forward to seeing what happens next.

3.     I found a muse who wasn’t scared of me.

This summer I met and connected with someone who might as well be the closest thing to the male version of myself. Self-aware, obsessed with his flaws, ambitious, detrimentally charming. A writer.

I met this fellow at a point in my life when I was actively trying to change my habits and behaviours when it came to the fellas. And he represents everything I want to avoid. Quite simply, he’s just not that into me. Predictably, he’s more into girls who look like Anime characters and aren’t jaded, self-aware, or older than 25.

So, I use him as my muse. I value our time together and make use of what comes from it, on the page, afterwards. It’s not a physical thing.

And since he’s a self-absorbed narcissist, he’s totally down with his role in my life. This makes him the first man I’ve become obsessed with who’s truly on the same page.

It’s a fun, healthy and exciting exchange and I’m excited to see where it goes, creatively. If it actually goes anywhere. He’s easily distracted. As am I.

4.     I met the (animal) love of my life.

My 2010 resolution was to try to stop molding men into what I wanted them to be and instead get a dog. It’s a long, beautiful and inspiring story that I’ll save for the right time, but basically I found my animal soulmate, who just happened to have gotten her PhD in cute. I’ve heard people talk about how when you meet the right person you just know and I always want to tell them to fuck off because I clearly can’t relate, but with Dutchie (my dog) I totally get it. I knew it was the real thing the moment I saw her. I can’t even write anything snarky or sarcastic, that’s how pure our love is. She’s my dog baby. My baby who just happens to be a dog. PLUS, she’s so special that she got accepted to be a St. John’s Ambulance therapy dog, which is actually a really tough process. This not only proves how remarkable she is, but also makes me look like a good person by association.

5.  I changed my perspective.

Someone (who I pay to listen to my problems professionally) suggested recently that I stop putting so much focus on long-term goals, and try to put that energy into short-term ones. At first I panicked, thinking that my long-term goals would never be accomplished. Then I realized she had a point. I’ve read enough issues of Oprah’s magazine and known enough people who’ve gone to rehab to understand that living day-by-day, or even moment-to-moment is where it’s at. It takes a lot of time, patience and practice to shift this deep-rooted habit of never being present (or happy) but it’s coming together. And as a result, I’m a lot happier. At least for now.

I’m wishing you an happy 2011. I wanna hear about your resolutions and I wanna know what mine should be. Leave me a comment or write me an email at write@eliannalev.com

I love hearing from you. Happy New Year!

“Be careful of the roads here, they can buckle beneath you at any time.”

I’m driving through Hollywood with my friend Enos. We speed over a fracture in the road and shift slightly in our seats. I look back at the giant crack and assume it got there as a result of an earthquake. Oh well, I think.  It’s my second day in town and I am feeling this city, cracks and all. I came here on an inspiration vacation and so far, it’s been entirely successful.

The night before I’d met up with my friend and writing partner Ayma, who’s joined me on this trip, and gone on a platonic double date with two strangers – an aspiring actor named Austin and his gym buddy Matt, who’s a writer for a magazine I had wanted to pitch. Synergy!

Ayma had met the aspiring actor’s dad in first class on her stopover flight to Phoenix, enroute to LA. He’s the CEO of a jewellery company and was taken by Ayma’s giant eyes and infectious charm. They talked about inspiration, aspiration and success – the things Ayma is coming to find on her trip to LA. He shares a valuable lesson he learned on a similar journey to get where he is today: the only difference between anxiety and excitement is the outcome you predict. Then, the CEO called up his son in LA and told him to take Ayma out. Which is what he does the next night.

Austin admits that his dad tries to set him up with random girls he meets all the time, but this is the first time the girl has followed through. We go to a vegan restaurant named Green Leaves, which is unimaginative save for the pink vintage guitars randomly hung on the walls.  We get over our awkwardness quickly and talk about the city and its endless opportunities. Matt gives me pointers on pitching to the magazine he writes for and we exchange email addresses. I go home feeling excited, which is what I’d initially come here to feel.

In LA, people are outwardly friendly. Men notice you and smile when you walk into a room. Everyone is working on an exciting project. Everyone is working towards something. Strangers seem to want to help you out. I’m addicted to the feeling of possibility and I know this city can feed that.

*

After Enos’ warning, I keep noticing cracks in the infrastructure. On the sidewalks, on the roads and even on the freeways.  These sinister gaps are everywhere. Sometimes the street is so unlevelled, it’s slanted half a foot above the rest of the concrete. I wonder why the city doesn’t put more effort into fixing these cracks, and how often people trip on this crumbling infrastructure, break a limb and sue. Or maybe natives to this city don’t even notice them anymore.

*

I am staying with Enos in his beautiful guesthouse, which is surrounded by lemon trees. I had originally come to spend time with his boyfriend, who is my best friend. But as Murphy’s Law would have it, his boyfriend is in Vancouver, working on a gig, staying at my apartment. Regardless, Enos is like my family and he treats me like so. He is not afraid to tell me like it is. In my time spent with Enos, he continues to lose his patience with me, with my constant moods, with my negative outlook on life. He wants me to go out and experience LA, while I want to lie under the lemon tree and write. I tell him it’s hard to change my moods but I’m working on it—I have been for the last year. Apparently I’m not working on it fast enough, because he continues to weigh in on me and I begin to crack. I begin to crumble.

*

It is my second last night in LA. Ayma and I are out with her new friends, as her unflappably cheery demeanour and openness never fail to attract people to her, particularly awe-inspired men. We are at an overly crowded bar and Ayma’s new friends are asking me what I want to drink. I tell them I don’t drink but they keep pressing.

“Why not just for tonight?”

I am burnt out and irritated and majorly hormonal. I am in a mood. A mood I am very familiar with. A mood that is hard to fight.

These new friends try to talk to me, eagerly tell me I should give them my email address. I barely spit out one-word answers and slouch in a corner, visibly miserable. I remember what Enos, who’s lived in LA for six months and continues to master this town, told me the first night I got in: In Los Angeles, you always have to be on.

Okay then. I am failing miserably in this town.

I try to play a mood altering exercise with myself where I have to list five things that make me happy about the situation I am in. I look around the crowded bar, at Ayma’s new friends slinging back their drinks, clamouring to shower her with attention, and want to cry. There is nothing here that makes me happy and I hate myself for feeling this way. I truly hate myself.

*

I wake up the next morning feeling lower than I have in a long time. I feel completely depleted. My head is light and spacey and inside I feel black.

I’d come to LA to be inspired and I was about to leave feeling like a failure.

I choose to be kind to myself and spend the rest of the day lying under the lemon trees, napping, drinking water, and eating fruit. Ayma comes over and we do a bit of writing. I slowly ease back into myself. In the evening, we eat at a healthy restaurant called Tender Greens, point out names we recognize on the Walk of Fame and take photos in a photo booth. By night time, I feel okay again. Not quite inspired, but not quite eroded either.

*

Enos’ assistant arrives early the next morning to take me to the airport. We speed along the freeway, zipping over cracks in the Los Angeles infrastructure. Again, I imagine how they got there and how long it will take for them to be covered up. Or maybe, I wonder, they will just continue to crumble and eventually turn into something far worse.

Often when I get really depressed I turn to Nick Drake. (Not unheard of.) His music is like this to me: When I was 15, I drank a two-litre bottle of Alabama Slammer and then puked up the contents of my stomach, including bile, until I had nothing left to puke. So I dry heaved instead. I knew I had to drink water in order to feel better but I could barely get it down. So I took tiny sips. I could feel the water in my stomach, knew it was helping in it’s own special way but I didn’t feel any better.  It’s the exact same thing with me, my depression, and Nick Drake’s music. It doesn’t make me feel any better but I know it’s helping in its own special way.

The funny thing is, I haven’t wanted to listen to much Nick Drake lately. This is strange for me considering he’s a staple in my music collection and has been since I first discovered him. It’s made me wonder, am I happy?

I’m really not sure about that. I’m an incredibly moody person but I’m learning to be more aware of that. I monitor my emotions constantly, acknowledge what brings me up and what takes me down. Then I  carry on. At the moment, I know there are certainly things that I’m happy about, so I thought I’d take the time to list them out, for you, my dear reader. (Making lists makes me happy, but that’s not on there.)

So, here are the five things in my life that make me happy right now, in no particular order.

1. Being inspired and inspiring others

I’m working on a contract for a social services agency, where I interview their clients and hear their stories. Last week, I was called in early to do some interviews, but one cancelled. So I ended up talking to the agency’s new graphic designer, who’d recently moved from the States. She knew no one in Vancouver and was trying her best to get out there and start a new life. We talked about our aspirations, frustrations, and inspirations. As I was leaving she told me I’d inspired her. It truly made my day.

Then, I went to interview a woman who had left an abusive relationship and was nearly on the streets. (This is a very condensed version of the story.) The social services agency had helped her find housing and she said that made her feel as though she was reborn. She said her new home in Canada was small and modest but gave her new life. She deeply inspired me. It truly made my day.

2. The song “Single” by Lil’ Wayne

You know those songs that pop up out of nowhere and immediately draw you in? That’s what this song is to me. It’s sexy, enticing and even though it’s about a guy who takes pleasure in cheating on his girlfriend, I am totally obsessed with the lyrics. It’s really vivid storytelling. Plus, I get pumped when he sings, “Put your hands up if you’re single” because for the first time in a long time, I’m happy to put my hands up.

3. Organizing a salon

The other week, I was hanging out on my new friend’s front porch. Her new friend popped by and we all got to chatting. We started talking about how parties aren’t about conversation anymore. Then someone suggested putting on a salon, which were popular 17th and 18th centuries as a way for people (mostly smart people) to come together and share ideas. The thought of being part of such a thing has got me really darned inspired and excited, and in turn, really happy.

4. Dutchie my dog

Ok, I’m not saying that some dogs suck, but you know. Some dogs really aren’t anything that special. Luckily mine is NOT one of those dogs. I adopted Dutchie in January and I honestly have no idea how I scored such a spectacular creature. She’s one of those dogs who were trained in the art of cute. That’s all she knows how to do. Act cute and be cute. She does this thing where she’ll do something naughty, like jump on the bed, and immediately roll on her back so you can rub her belly, rather than scold her. It’s SO FUCKING CUTE. And I get to witness shit like that every day. I don’t think there’s ever been anything else that could make me quite so happy. My dog Dutchie = happy, happy, happy.

5. Ayma Letang and Rape Whistle Fan Club

Last year, I desperately wanted to have a writing partner. But I hadn’t a clue how to find one. Is that something you post on Craigslist? Word of mouth? Lucky for me, the universe granted my wish. I met a girl named Ayma Letang who is hilarious, creative, talented, and fearless.  I knew almost immediately we had to collaborate together. And that’s what we’ve been doing.  Not only is it fun work, but also completely rewarding. We started a sketch comedy duo thing called “Rape Whistle Fan Club” and we just finished editing our first video. It’ll be premiering at Music Waste. It will make you happy.

This year, I decided to do all my holiday shopping at the Book Warehouse. It’s basically a slightly smaller, less pristine (and cheaper) version of Chapters, without the denim vest and squeaky-clean retail attitude. One person on my gift list was my friend Audrey, who just turned three. Since she now talks in complete sentences and is incredibly bright and feisty, I thought it would be a good time to start teaching her about feminism. So I bought her Robert Munsch’s “The Paper Bag Princess.” I re-read it and remembered how amazing it is, which got me thinking: Why isn’t Princess Elizabeth, aka the Paper Bag Princess more of a feminist icon?

For those of you who haven’t read it, here’s a quick synopsis. Princess Elizabeth’s main fella, Prince Ronald, is captured by a dragon. The dragon also destroys the castle. Despite having nothing but a paper bag, Elizabeth sets out to rescue her man. She outwits the dragon and wins her boy back. Unfortunately he’s too much of a superficial bitch to feel grateful for what this magnificent woman has done for him, because she no longer looks like a princess. So she drops him like a shitty diaper and skips off into the sunset, happy and alone.

My friend and writing partner Ayma Letang reminds me a lot of Princess Elizabeth. She’s independent, strong and rarely takes any shit from boys. She also went as the Paper Bag Princess for Halloween. I sat down with Ayma to talk about what the book means to her.

Me: You kind of represent everything the Paper Bag Princess stands for.

Ayma Letang: Tough girls? I hope so.

Me: Do you remember what you thought about the book when you were little?

AL: I remember thinking it was awesome she didn’t have to wear girl clothes. Because my mom used to have a kids clothing line when I was little and she tried to dress me in them and I’d say “No! Give me the boys clothes!” I was fond of my older brother’s Mighty Ducks jacket.

Me: Like a Raider’s Jacket?

AL: Yes, but less street. Mighty Ducks. They had their own Disney movie.

Me: So you liked that the Paper Bag Princess didn’t wear princess clothes.

AL: And that she didn’t care when her prince didn’t like that she wasn’t dressed like a princess. She dumped his ass.

Me: Have you ever dated anyone like the prince?

AL: Someone who needs rescuing? Have you met me?

Me: No, more like a stupid snob.

AL: I try to avoid people who expect me to be a princess.

Me: Why doesn’t she see what he’s like in the beginning? That he’s superficial and an asshole.

AL: Because she’s already a princess. She’s filled that role. When she loses that, he turns on her.

Me: So he doesn’t accept her for who she is. I can relate.

AL: And who she is is obviously awesome. She outsmarts a dragon! We all know dragons are smart. Actually, are they? Maybe they’re just fast and can burn you with their breath.

Me: They’re probably similar to skunks. You want to avoid them.

AL: Huh?

Me: Skunks are like gang members. When you see them, you want to cross the street to avoid them. Probably the same with dragons. Except they don’t exist.

AL: You lost me.  The dragon in that book is like a destructive showboat. Like the guys at the bar who wear sparkly shirts and pick fights.

Me: So bottom line? (You listening Audrey?)

AL: Little girls should slay dragons.

Me: And avoid skunks.