Project X
I guess it’s really not news that I’ve been going under a lot of transitions these last few years, but the project I’ve been working on officially since December is pretty much the start of the culmination of everything I’ve been busting my ass on since I first started therapy in more recent years.
The acoustic project was the 1st step, my book “Alcoholic Heart” was the 2nd step, and I’m currently working on the video for the 3rd step. Although I’m sure there’s other steps, these have been the most significant.
I completely and sincerely appreciate the love and support I’ve received from everyone I have as I push and strive to further my goals. I know I haven’t always been the easiest person to deal with or work with, and I know as I dive deeper and deeper into the dream pool, that many people have been left behind, but I assure you no one is forgotten.
Stepping out of my comfort zone is not the easiest thing for me, but it is something I have always done, and this upcoming project is quite possibly the biggest undertaking I’ve ever gone through in regards to exposing myself to the world. You’d think it would get easier each time I do it, but it doesn’t. In some cases it feels harder, and there’s no way in hell I’m giving up. I’ve worked too long, too hard, and come too far to back out now.
The Zebrana Bastard project is the project of my heart. It is all that I am, for better or for worse continually pounded out on 4 strings of acoustic beauty, and she continually takes my beatings, to which I am forever grateful.
I’m too far gone to turn back now.
In the last year and a half, I have clung tighter to the kids I grew up with, because they were there from the very beginning, and still welcome me with the same open arms they did when I first needed a family to turn to. I don’t have to explain myself, and I’m treated the same as I always was. Salem is my home. Tacoma was a city I was born in, and while there are many memories I cherish here, it will never feel like home the same as Salem does. Most of you met me when I was a complete drunk mess, but they knew me when I was learning how to be that mess.
I recently played a show at Clockworks Cafe, and a good handful of my boys and others came out to support the show. I was on a tight schedule, and couldn’t stay long after as I still had a drive to Eugene ahead of me, laundry to do, and SHiT to pack into the van. Even though I didn’t really have the time to spare, I stopped and had a beer with my friends. Dave tried buying another beer, but I really had to go, and couldn’t do it. There were some voices of protests to me leaving, but Charlie quickly shut them up, “hey guys,” he said, “this is her dream, her life goal, she’s gotta do what she’s gotta do, and we gotta respect that.” The protests to me leaving turned into good luck, and drive safe.
To be honest, climbing into my truck and heading towards the freeway felt just like the day I moved away from Salem for good. It was hard, I felt like I was leaving a part of me behind. It’s the second time I passed up beer and laughs with my friends for something else, but at the same time knowing they understand, support, and love me regardless of how many times I drive away makes me want to come back again and again and again. I’m glad I still have a home to go to. I’m glad it still feels like home after all of these years.
Charlie fucking cursed me before my first tour with The Athiarchists, he told me I was gonna be famous, and less than a month later, I was driving a truck around downtown LA filled with Rob Dyrdek’s cast and crew. I’m not saying that made me famous, but even for the small role I played, it still gave me more exposure than anything else I’ve ever done.
I just returned home from another tour which lead to a short stop in Salem before heading up to Tacoma, and Joe started up with, “when you’re on the cover of Rolling Stone…” and I told him to shut the fuck up. lol
After everything that has happened these last two years, I’m not ruling it as an impossibility, although I made him a promise that if I ever get big enough to the point where Rolling Stone does want me, the only way it’s going to happen is if I’m sitting on the front porch at Lee’s house, hangin’ with my boys.
I have no desire to be famous, I’ve avoided it many many times. At the same time, it is a very possible side effect to the path I’ve been walking. If you don’t want fans, then sit in your living room and play, or better yet, don’t play at all. Sit in the crowd, and listen to others playing songs you connect with.
I’m working on a tour, a small scale tour, but still quite possibly the most important tour of my life, because it’s a breakthrough tour. It’s facing my fears and saying “fuck you world, you can’t beat me down”. To be honest, the whole fucking idea terrifies me. Between that and my lack of drinking, it’s put me in a terrible emotional state. I honestly don’t think I’ve cried so much since I longed for my parents to get back together and make us a real family (we’re talking pre-teen years here). I cry at least once a day, especially when working on the project.
I’m doing all the ground work myself, and not asking for help from anyone so far, outside of Dan and a few close friends, just to make sure I’m keeping on track and that the subject matter is clear.
So many fears are raging through my head…what if I put all this work into it, and no one cares? Answer…I care, and regardless if anyone notices or not, it’s going to make a difference on my mental health and a huge impact on my life just by getting it all out. That in itself is more than enough reason to follow through.
I’m typing now, because I did two takes for the film piece of everything, and after hours of editing and showing it to Dan, there’s more work needed to be done, more filming left to do, because I keep giving reasons and not getting to the point. A bad habit of mine…but I’m not giving up. I needed a distraction, to take a break. I feel like if I don’t get it done tonight, I might not get it done before leaving for the next tour.
Tomorrow…I have work to do, and then I’m going to The 72 Hour Film Festival with some friends, Saturday is a show at The Funhouse with a friend I rarely see who shares my passion for adventure, and it took everything I had to decline the offer to be kidnapped for a few days to go on the open road with him. I seriously hesitated for awhile before declining the offer, and decided to go with the responsibility route on that. The 15 year old inside of me was screaming “FUCK YEAH! LET’S ROLL!” and the adult I’ve been quickly becoming reminded me that 1. I’m only home for two weeks. 2. I already made plans with Dan to finish up the horseshoe pit. 3. I need to get as much work as possible done before leaving for tour in case internet is like it was this last tour.
So I said, “as much as I’d love to, I really can’t this time.” Nathan once told me that adventure is a good thing, but to make sure it’s the right adventure.
I’m stressed the fuck out so bad right now, but finishing a few things has allowed it to subside a bit. I’ve been shitting blood for months, tried to get medical insurance after Dan expressed serious concern over my health, but was denied…and now I’m in a major catch 22.
Since being denied for medical, my option is to play my disability card. However…if I claim disability for my mental instability, then I have to deal with the state and play the state games. Can’t get my disability lifted without paying for state psych-eval, which is over a thousand dollars, and that’s regardless if I pass it or not. My current record states that I’m not qualified to work due to mental instability. A certificate like that is great if you wanna work at Goodwill for the rest of your life. Other issues that go hand in hand with this is even if I applied for SSI, it would be a year before medicaid would kick in. The other down side is you have to talk to a state appointed counselor, who’s real job is a state appointed pill pusher. All I have to say to that is “FUCK THAT!”
I will say that I am quirky, but I don’t think that means I can’t function, as I’ve gotten this far, haven’t I?
So anyway, medical is not an option for me. There is the Country Doctor option, but we’re too broke to go that route at this point, so it’ll have to wait until next time. I’m pretty sure the whole shitting blood thing is due to some kind of hernia related to stress and the issues I’ve always had with constipation since I was a child.
My stressors aren’t really bad, but there’s a lot weighing on my shoulders right now. Still struggling with balancing home life and touring life. Been trying to balance work while touring, which has been more difficult than I thought, even with the new workstation laptop.
Trying to get all this shit done for SHiT, and really forcing myself to do more with the Zebrana Bastard project, which is tied into project “X” that I’m currently taking a break from right now to type out this fucking blog so maybe it will help to clear my head a little, or at the very least, give me a break so things seem a bit more fresh when I dive back into it.
What would’ve happened if they tried to put Einstein on pills? I’m not saying I’m that smart, but seriously…that dude was a fucking scatter brain too. Mozart…fucking crazy. I think it just comes with the territory. Pablo Picasso…bet ya didn’t know I admired the fuck outta that man when I was a child, but it makes sense, yeah? Einstein, Mozart, Picasso…all men who really stood out to me in earlier years.
Gotta talk about the tour, how it relates to the book, how it relates to my message, how it relates to life, how it relates to everything in a clear and concise manner that doesn’t roll off into weird tangents the way my writing does. Gotta stay focused…gotta finish this, can’t put it off, because next week is the week that leads to a party that leads to the next SHiT tour. Next week is super focus week, but still giving myself social hours with Tea Time.
Time with the husband is slipping away to the back burner again, and I’m trying so hard not to let it. Sex life is suffering again. I stopped fucking people on tour. I just don’t care anymore, and no one interests me. I want time with Baker. But when I’m home, there’s limited time with Baker, and I get all these texts soon as people realize I’m home, and I don’t want to stop saying I’m home…which is part of why I created Tea Time. And I really don’t hate anyone in Washington, and I would love to go out for a beer now and again or a walk or a talk or anything that creates social time, but when you have 2 weeks to play catch up, you realize just how short time really is.
I want to stop by and see Kristi, and I miss everyone from Punk Rock Baseball, but that chapter of my life is over. That does not mean the friendships are over, the love is still their, the memories are still cherished, but I’m floating in a new current now that is quite possibly one of the most lonely, yet rewarding currents I’ve ever floated down.
My dad called me the other day like a worried mother hen, almost yelling that I never call him anymore. It kinda threw me off, and I wondered if it really had been that long since we spoke. I have lost all sense of time, only remembered when I hug the children of my friends and family, realizing that they no longer hit me at the knee, and it completely blows me away that so much time has passed.
Through all this, I stay focused, keeping my eye on the prize, and hoping that everyone will understand just how hard I am working, and that it really is worth it, and that I am finally growing into the woman I’ve always wanted to be.
Project “X” is leaning me more towards the Mother Teresa influences from my childhood, and less from the Andrew Dice Clay side. I still feel like me, but I’ve started something that I can’t turn away from and everything I’ve ever done or touched is all a part of it. I’m blowing my cover, and exposing my heart in the biggest way I know how. Breaking the silence on a bigger scale, terrified and at the same time excited to see what the outcome will be.
When the dust settles, I really hope your children aren’t having children, and that I can fully relax and enjoy more than what feels like stolen moments of time.