This past week, on Oct. 27, Carrie Brownstein released her highly anticipated memoir "Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl." The title looked like a subtle wink to fans, since it's a lyric from Brownstein's critically adored Rio Grrl band's pre-hiatus release, "The Woods." When I started reading the actual book, however, I realized that the words on the front cover had a deeper meaning. I didn't know Brownstein as well as I once thought, but I am glad that I took the time to really listen to what she had to say. "Hunger" is page after page of self-critique, darkness, and unabridged honestly--something that every twenty year old needs to hear every once in a while.

In the past few months, I've become a huge fan of the new sub-genre of memoir written by funny women I admire. I tore through Tina Fey's "Bossypants" in a matter of hours. I listened to both of Mindy Kaling's books--"Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?" and "Why Not Me?"--obsessively on airplane, car and train rides. Don't even get me started on Amy Poehler's "Yes, Please." And when I heard that my favorite comedian and singer was going to be taking on the task of writing a memoir, I was so full of anticipation that I pre-ordered a copy immediately. This turned out to be pretty stupid on my part, mainly because the book is probably sitting on the front steps of my parents house while I'm living across the world in Europe for the semester. So, instead, I've been listening to "Hunger" on an audiobook. I'm forced to be alone in my thoughts with nothing but Carrie Brownstein's voice in my ear telling me her secrets and stories.

I didn't know what I was getting into, because I expected something funny and light-hearted--I expected something written by the same Carrie who writes "Portlandia" sketches. While "Hunger" occasionally dips into points of humor and jokes, it stayed more rooted in reality telling Brownstein's story of how she came to be the woman she is today. In the first chapter, she describes in painstakingly beautiful detail the last few hours before she said she wanted to break up Sleater Kinney, the rock band, in 2005. I was waiting for a train when I heard the shakes in Brownstein's voice as she delivered her words to me and I had to stop myself from crying.

Sleater Kinney has meant a lot to me over the past few years. I discovered Brownstein when I was an odd 17-year-old. "Portlandia" was the TV show I had always dreamed of: Funny, strange, topical, quirky - with Fred Armisen in drag half of the time. I loved Brownstein and Armisen so much that I put a bird on my graduation cap. But then, I found Sleater Kinney during my first semester of college when I was a radio DJ. From then on, Brownstein has come to be this larger-than-life figure: A role model and possible future version of myself. I'm turning 21 in a few weeks, and while I'm listening to "Hunger" every chance I have, I feel like I need someone like Brownstein more than ever.