Chapter 3- One at Night.  Sleep Tight!

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Chapter 3- One at Night. Sleep Tight!

The 5 o'clock shadow, with dark eyes behind Clark Kent thick rimmed glasses.  His business-casual dress wrapped around his muscular and of course, perfectly proportioned body.  Not a curve out of place. " I'm literally talking to a photoshopped artificial Ken doll of a man.  Hilarious", I thought to myself.  But he had a scent of his own.  Like an elusive pheromone that only fills and confuses your mind and hormones with his every motion.  Ken dolls usually aren't my type.  And Robert Downey Jr. lookalikes are also not my type.  "My type?!  Type?  I shouldn't be having any kind of type".  But I was.  My mind was reeling with excuses to run as fast as I could, out the door, into my car and back to my safe and restless world.  But it was like an intoxicating spell, the way he looked at me.  I must've had my jaw on the floor because he tilted his perfectly set jaw to the right and cracked a brief smile.  "Please sit down for me"....."uh...ok"....Like a lost deer in the headlights, I just did as I was told.  I plopped down on another crazy sofa I was convinced was a recent prop on Moulin Rouge….

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Dream Doctor: Chapter 2- New Patient Consultation

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Dream Doctor: Chapter 2- New Patient Consultation

"I have no problem staying up all night trying to find things to do, but I still can't make it on time to a 7am appointment?.. Weaving in and out of traffic lines in attempt to gain an extra minute.  Seriously, why do I risk my life for a stranger I've never met.  Calm down", she mumbled under her breath, slamming her skirt in the car door.  The Dream Doctor's office was in a small business park, covered in morning glory blooms and climbing vines.  Pulling a few to the side, she saw the tiny brass initials covered with vines, "JB DD.", above a small set of red French doors.  "Is that John Brennen...Dream Doctor?  What in the world was I doing here? …

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Dream Doctor: Chapter 1

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Dream Doctor: Chapter 1

"There he is.  Beyond perfect.  With his 5 o'clock shadow and pearly morning grin rolling over to adore me.  What the hell is wrong with me?".....She pressed her crackling bony balls of her feet to the heated slate floor to the kitchen for the fresh coffee.  "I'm an asshole.  I was raised to be virtuous, becoming and grateful.  I married the man of my dreams.  'Boredom' in this phase of life is utterly selfish.  My dreams are always a black empty room.  If I can't have the adventure I've dreamed of since age 5, can't I at least feel some form of desperation, conflict, climax, triumph in my dream life?  I enjoy taking care of him.  I bring him his coffee and see his sweet smile of gratitude and loyal puppy dog love.  My half smile-smirk followed by abomidable black guilt is my only response.  "Love ya babe.  Enjoy.  You're the best, baby." …

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The "Norovirus".

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The "Norovirus".

I often wonder how bloggers keep their private life private.  For me, that's where most of my good stories come from.  Probably because I've kept a journal since I was 11 years old.  After a while, even the most mundane events of my life could become "stories".  Even a few good ones!  Well, for the sake of "privacy", maybe I'll try to weave a little taste of fiction into my story-basket. You can choose it's contents….

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This "Dream" Life...

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This "Dream" Life...

My legs are shaking (and even burning a little) from a sunny beach cruiser bike ride into "town".  Growing up in Washington state, everywhere else was still somehow, greener than the Evergreen State.  I imagined living in Southern California by the ocean, in a tiny beach town.  I dreamed of making my coffee with my bright red espresso maker, looking out the bay window at the jungle foliage and blue salty horizon.  I dreamed of taking a baby blue beach cruiser out the red front door and down the hill to the historic highway 101, with my empty Herschel backpack.  I would stuff it with oranges rolling off the the neighbor's trees and down the sidewalks.  I would stop at the wine store, of course.  First priority….

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Time

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Time

I'm back in the US.  I still live out of a suitcase.  Its amazing how little you need.  I often wonder what it would feel like to just say, "well, I have lived a full year without all the stuff in my storage unit.  I'm just gonna let it all go.  Close my eyes and burn it to the ground or donate it.  Whichever comes first.  But I don't.  Stuff owns me.  And the joy I feel when sunlight newly dances onto places I didn't even know I had in my house, is just beautiful.  We recently bought a second rental property.  An adorable little house to rent out. Remember that story about saving to buy a house?    Let me know in the comments and if not,  I'll send it to you! …

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Paris... and other things...

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Paris... and other things...

I throw the curtains closed.  I change my mind and decide to get one more look at the flowing water outside of my hotel room.  My life has been and will be, hotels for at least 3 more months.  I'm a pice in another big machine. I follow the given directions, based on the boss's decisions.   I travel in groups.  With good people.  No matter what happens in a very unconventional work day, I still look forward to seeing my coworkers...

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Luuuuuuull

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Luuuuuuull

This is the melancholy phase.  What feels like a time warp to me.  It takes a couple months of being in far off places, for me to have what was a clear image of my life, fade into another one.  We are often too busy to be lonely here.  But we are often too lonely to be busy.  Every job like this has a different schedule.  Some have hours and hours of unexpected downtime.  Others are break-neck speed and then go home and recover...

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The Center Line

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The Center Line

I joke around about the term "PTSD".  I shouldn't.  It has plenty to do with trauma in life, no matter how great or small.  And whatever this rush of something was that hit me tonight...I don't really know what to call it.  It was another "woah, that's new", otherworldly feeling.  I've been in Barcelona, rehearsing for a world tour with some pretty amazing humans.  It has been unbelievable in just about every way.  There are times, as a relatively spastic performer, that I get a chance to step out and be crazy for a little bit...

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Queen Of The Champagne Castle...

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Queen Of The Champagne Castle...

"I will learn to walk away from this cool song today.  Because I know it'll come back when its ready", I said to myself at the beachside bar today, with my journal.  I tucked it away and dove into the Mediterranean.  The water was clear, blue, warm and....Mediterranean.  My first day off without my man.  My Lone Tour Girl came back pretty quickly...

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Week 2 - Barcelona

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Week 2 - Barcelona

Tears are streaming down my face.  Yeah.  Nobody died or anything.  I will straighten up.  But for now, I hit the elevator button and run to my hotel room fluffy white bed and bury my face in the pillow.  Alone.  I'm alone now.  I know this feeling all too well.  I swore I would never leave my love and my life for longer than a couple weeks.  No more work travel.  It damages and distances and just dries up marriages and relationships of every kind.  I've seen very close up, the pain it creates.  And yet, my husband and I are investing in a new life together...

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Him

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Him

I'm on the plane from home to "home".   The clean and green Pacific Northwest to beautiful sunny San Diego.     Both are in my heart and soul.   The only drawback of the blessing of an inseparable deep loving family is the constant goodbyes.   My hands shake and my throat swells up and I look safely at the ground. I pull my cheeks up like the Cabbage Patch doll they gave me when I was three years old.   I immediately undressed it and attempted to sew my own doll clothes with my mother's sewing kit. Sorry mom. I know I cleverly "put it all away" wrong...

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"A Forest Bath?!  That's it?!"

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"A Forest Bath?! That's it?!"

I'm in my hideaway again.  It's where I go when I feel like I'm starving to remember how to thrive.  Not just exist.  I go here when my roots feel withered and my sense of belonging and purpose feel shaky.  There is no sweeter air.  There is no deeper green.  The Pacific Northwest is in my veins.  It'll always be.  More on that in a bit...

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"What you are feeling is not what's going on right now", and other adventures in Bipolar Disorder

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"What you are feeling is not what's going on right now", and other adventures in Bipolar Disorder

Ah, the fragmented mad mind of a musician. Today, I'm looking out on the ocean and boating my way down memory lane...or...canal or river or something. I have quite the life. I've had quite the life too. One of my friends has been listening to the audio book of The Secret, as she lives her days in LA.  Zennin' out in traffic, mind-over-mattering extreme heat radiating off the polluted potholed blacktop freeway. There's just no one like her in the world. I say that in complete honesty, as she is a wonderful woman but also...a contortionist. She bends her body into an origami knot and then walks around on one toe. She falls from the sky, unharnessed and iron-gripping silk fabric and bungees. She has two baby girls that she has passed that on to. She has this ability because her mother gave her daily stretches when she was a baby. Her oldest sits in a shopping cart at Costco with her legs in a full "T"to the right and left as mama cruises the produce aisles...

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The Free Write

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The Free Write

Today, I am free writing.

The last couple entries  have been actual chapters in what I thought might be a book someday. I think I just needed to get my creative juices flowing in and remember that I love to do this.   Ending the chapter about Pedro holding me when I was scared and shaking, after finishing the period at the end of the last sentence, I burst into tears of gratitude...

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Back When I Had Money (Chapter 2)

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Back When I Had Money (Chapter 2)

My husband I recently returned from visiting four cities in Brazil.  From Rio (his parents are just the best.  I must’ve been a saint in a past life or something, because I seriously lucked out. From Brasilia, the Capital, to Fernando De Noronha to Iguassu Falls, a tiny touch of Argentina.  It was an absolute dream.  And dreams often...

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Back When I Had Money (Chapter 1)

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Back When I Had Money (Chapter 1)

My husband and I are currently saving to buy a house. We just downloaded an app that will budget our expenses each month...like, down to the peso. Everything. I silently grieved the lavish orchid and pineapple embellished crystal totem-style Hawaiian glasses full of top shelf rummed-up mai tai’s at my favorite oceanside bar, Duke’s. Yeah, I grieved a hundred little vices I adore. The truth is, I CAN go out with my girls and have 10 mai tai’s if I want to. “But not if you wanna buy this house, babe”, he said....

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"Back When I Had Money"....

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"Back When I Had Money"....

Lifestyles of the Broke and Marginally Famous- (This is just the preface, or prologue or whatever that shit is called. Feel free to skip past it if you’d like).

I’m not broke. It just rolled off the common tongue so well, I had to say it. Don’t get me wrong. By general celebrity standards, I’m homeless. But after 3 years of escaping “show biz” via San Diego surfboard, I’ve learned that I like myself....

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