just a weed

The other night, when I went against doctor's orders and went out for dinner, I spoke to the DJ.

We'd become friends with him on a night that Papi had 'a tad' to drink and the DJ put Papi on bell duty to keep his drunk ass busy.

His job was to ring the bell when something good happened in the pay-per-view fight that evening.

Anyway, the other night, he sat with us and I asked him if he'd like to listen to my music.

Papi gets so damn embarrassed when I self-promote, but if I don't do it, who will?

I suppose my last CD could sit up in a drawer forever, never to be shared with anyone, but that just doesn't seem right.

So, Papi begged me not to do it and I had to ask, with all honesty, "Is it because it's not good enough?"

I would hate to embarrass myself by asking someone to listen to my music if it sucked.

He was adamant that this was not the case.  That it was that my music isn't Dominican.

Ummm ... the DJ plays Bon Jovi and Eagles.

Not sure what that is about people being uncomfortable with me self-promoting.

I'm sure if I had someone promoting me like Britney Spears, I would be on top of the music chain as well.  It's all about promotion.

If I'm not doing it, it won't get done.

Years ago, in another life, I had a best friend that was a big support of my music, but she, too, was embarrassed when I would self-promote.

Once, I put on my SuperGirl Panties and gave my music to Jann Arden.  It went really well chatting with her, and afterward my ex-bestie said, "OK.  I won't ever say not to do that again."

Well, the other night, after the DJ listened to it, he had every person who worked there listening to it, including the manager, who said, "Can you play here live?"

Of course I can, but I don't have Drummer Boy with me.

He's back in Canada.

So, now I'll have to find someone here to be his surrogate.

That kinda sucks, because Drummer Boy was the meat to my potatoes.

Anyway, people liked it and I've been asked to bring by CDs.  Of course, a lot will be given for free, because people in this country just can't afford to buy music.

I'll buy theirs though.  Or swap my CD for their CD.

I know how hard it is to get money out of people for your art.

Kinda the same as, I always tip well, because I know what it's like to be a waitress, work really hard to please the customer, then get a buck outta some cheap asshole who had a $50 meal.

Whole point is, there's that saying from Susan Jeffers, 'Feel the fear and do it anyway' that I adopted after my motorcycle accident.

Somewhere along the way, I forgot that we only have a short time on this planet.

That we better fucking be happy and take those chances, because someone can come along in a little red Toyota and wipe us off the planet with one bang to our motorcycle.

When did I lose that feeling of living without fear?

Perhaps I got insecure from the change of moving here and fell back to old ways.

Fear.

A lovely Blogger Friend reminded me the other day, that those who dumped me didn't win.

He reminded me that I am better than that thought.

They were just weeded out of my veggie garden so that they didn't squish out the other healthy plants that are meant to be there.

It's time to plant some new seeds.

i show compassion in helping my loved ones understand my dreams

waves crashing

The angels DO have a sense of humour.

I was at the hardware store, yet again, where I'm becoming part of the scenery, and I was waiting patiently for The Carpenter to get his wood, concrete, nails etc. that he needed.

I'm really only there to pay, as I'm just a walking wallet.

Anyway, I was waiting for him to return and was missing my HECTOR cohort, wishing we could play some music together now that my bitch of a back is being friendly.

The ticket to get here is quite expensive, so I can't just see my Drummer Boy just hopping on a plane to come make music.

Nor can I see him leaving behind The Turkey, my first godson, so I was just wishing that someway, somehow, I could have tons of cash to fly him here to the Dominican Republic to play some shows.

My Bluelight ex-buddy has enough cash to come here, and I miss her as well, but chances are that she's mad enough at me that she will NEVER forgive me enough to visit.  Chances are I could never trust her friendship again anyway.

But there I was wishing I had money.

I went into the hardware store to pay, and the first amazing thing happened, that worker that I said I'd win the heart of, gave me a hug, saying, "I like you.  You're my friend."  Accomplished!  Won his heart!  Bad Spanish and all!

Then within moments, the PanMan came in.

He's the one the angels sent me the other day, when I really needed to hear some words of wisdom.

I bought a bunch of snacks for for Papi, as he asked how we were doing.

We spoke a while about the ups and downs, how hard it is to live here.  He understood fully when I spoke about having lost our cat, and that Papi is really down.  Really depressed.

Mostly from grieving, but also because we're both stressed the fuck out about money.

He told me there would be an opportunity for Papi to work for him if he liked.  It would be in sales for the land he has, not to mention, the eco-tourism that he needs promotion for.

I explained that it would be a job for me, not for Papi, that Papi doesn't like sales, but I'm a natural born hustler.  I'll work hard, and try my best, even if I fail.

I told him I'd email him again and look at options for working with him.

I strolled back to the car with my bag of bread in hand, looking to the sky for my angels, saying, "You really are funny, you know that?"

So, maybe I need to ask them to help Papi a bit more.

He's really in a rough state, in his own Pit of Doom.

He knows everything he needs to do to get out of his depression, but he just can't do it.

Not to mention, I'm not able to persuade him to do those things, or he'll get upset telling me, "You think I don't know that?  You don't remember I worked in mental health and told people that every single day of life?"

Yeah.

I know you know that Papi.

I just want so badly for you to feel better.

Just like the PanMan said, "You have to ride the waves.  They go up, they come down, but you are never in one place.  If you're down, the law is you have to come up.  But when you're up, you also have to come down."

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Papi and I had gone to the beach yesterday, because it was the country's day off of work.  A day to celebrate workers and they got a day off with pay.

We went to the beach with the masses.

It was my first time to the Sosúa Beach.  As I floated, I looked to the sky and spoke to the angels, "Thank you for this opportunity to play in the waves.  Thank you for giving me a break today and letting me just float here.  Thank you for the ocean."

I have more to thank than for just the relaxing day we finally got to have.

I have to thank the waves for allowing me to ride them.

Come back up Papi!

Your wave has to come back up.

It's crashing a little.

i am passionate about doing what i need in order to increase my fortune

Gratitude List, Day 7/10
1. I am grateful the angels keep sending me words.
2. I am grateful I keep looking for the angels words.
3. I am grateful I worked to get myself out of my depression.
4. I am grateful for the ocean to help heal my back.
5. I am grateful for people genuinely liking me.
6. I am grateful for people who have been mean, so that I know what good people are to me.
7. I am grateful for friends who support me.
8. I am grateful to feel loved.
9. I am grateful for the small opportunity that may be to make an income.
10. I am grateful for Papi to ride these waves with.

HE SNORES!!!!!!!

He snores.

Big.

Loud.

The earth shakes.

Normally, he spends most of his evening and wee hours of the morning on the couch, because that's where he can safely consume more pop, pizza and TV.

But the couch is gone.

He's in bed.

Snoring.

I haven't slept in days.

He's been sleeping great!

Could be all the pills he's stuffing down his yack to make sure he does.

He gave me the run down of everything he took last night.

Sounded more like he was trying to induce a coma.

I might try that tonight.

Remember when Santa was coming and you couldn't sleep?

I have the feeling it will be like this tonight.

But then again, if I'm as tired as I was last night from packing, then I'll probably pass out quickly again.

Mind you, I'm also exhausted from not sleeping because someone was snoring all night, so it's possible I'll just sleep well because of that.

Oh!

Wait!

No I won't!

Because HE SNORES!!!!!!!!

So, maybe I'll be taking the concoction to induce a coma so I can get some rest.

He'll sleep better when he's by the ocean.  Nothing like sea water to cleanse those sinuses!!

The good news is, we're officially packed.

The bad news is, we're officially packed, and everything I need is in great gads of wrapped up clothing.

Never to be opened until we're at Casa Paraíso.

I did save enough to at least do my hair and makeup.

Because it is all about my hair.

And tomorrow we'll be getting the last of the footage for the first episode of my brand new YouTube show, 'Life Is a Science Experiment - Live Version'.

I'm hoping to have 'Episode One: The Countdown' up by the end of the weekend for you.

I can't even tell you how much fun I'm having being creative as an amateur film maker!

I'm thinking I may have found a new creative vein to work in!

I have the first 3 episodes all worked out for you, I just need to film them.

I'm looking forward to getting to the Dominican Republic with all my composing implements to actually compose a score for them!!

For now, I'll be using my already recorded music from HECTOR.  I don't dare use anything from BlueLight now that I've been fired.

She's a spitfire and might sue me or something.  Yikes!

Anyway, I'm enjoying it and can't wait to air my first official segment!!

See the excitement that just arose after feeling so tired from all his snoring?

That's coffee.

All hail coffee.

i know that peaceful sleep awaits me in dreamland

gun therapy. oh yes.

While we were talking to the housekeeper at Casa Paraíso, telling her with all our sadness that we can't hire her full time when we move there, she told us in her broken English, "Get a pistol."

This is not because we won't hire her full time.  We told her she will be part of our family and that we'll take care of them best we can.  We already have plans in place to make them our DR Family.

She told us that the bandidos would come to rob us if they're not there full time, because we're gringos.

At first it was a little alarming, until I realized I finally get to have a gun and get to go back to the shooting range for practise.

Of course, people are a little worried about us, but I'm trying to reassure everyone we're going to be just fine.  

We're cool with it.  We love guns and I've always wished I had one to protect myself from predators.

I know that if I had one when I was younger, I wouldn't be living with P.T.S.D for the rest of my life.

I guess I will have to work on my anger management before we have an Uzi.

Also, there will be no sugar in my system to make sure there are no ocean side Hurricane Andréa sightings.

None-the-less, I promise you, this little femme will not hesitate to protect my home and family.

I also know, once we get the reputation for not taking any bullshit, the opportunists will leave us alone.

Not to mention, once we become a part of the community and show that we're there to help, not take, they will not want to diss us.

They don't diss family like people do here in our fair city of privileged white boys who don't give a shit about elders or children.

They respect those who respect family, and these lovely caretakers will be our family.

Dammit, I can't tell you how excited I am to start my target practise on Saturday.

I also have a couple of good friends who I've asked for help to get the best out of my practise.  One is my drummer from HECTOR who is the baby daddy of My Godson, The Turkey.

The other is the Godfather of The Turkey.  He's cleared to carry guns, and regularly goes to the shooting range to keep up his chops.

I'm sure they'll both want to get me the best I can be.

Envision this: I'm lying in my hammock, sipping on coconut water I got from our coconut palm in our yard.  The salty ocean breeze is drying my hair from the morning's ocean pain relief for my bitch of a back.  I may or may not have a missing tooth with a stalk of hay hanging from my mouth, instead of a cigarette, because cigarettes are gross.

Someone comes on the the property thinking that this li'l gabacha is an easy target to get past to take her items.

Wrong mother fucker.

See this Saturday-night Special?  I know how to use it.

He takes a step closer and the dirt beside him erupts from a bullet.  That is a warning, and one warning is all he gets.

I'll be sure to let him know the next one goes into his leg, prohibiting him from taking any steps closer.

That will take care of our reputation and will be the only time someone bothers to try and take advantage of us.

So, this weekend, I start target practise.

Perhaps, I should find myself some anger management to go along with it.

That, and there will be no sugar in my system to make sure my chemical imbalance is in check.

Good thing Papi and I don't drink.  There could be some troubles in Casa Paraíso if that were the case.

Lord knows that sliver of my Irish heritage comes out when I drink, and I become a leprechaun.

Just add alcohol and a gun.

i have deep faith and belief in myself

I understand so much now.

I suppose if she's allowed to assume for me, then I'm allowed to assume for her.

Especially since she won't talk to me about it, so here's my assumption.

The way our friendship was severed was not like any 'little' friend's spat.  It was more like, "That's it!  I've had it!  That was the last straw!!!"

Even though I didn't know there were any straws being pulled.

I'm pretty sure by going back over all the emotional belting I received, that it's all about resentment.  It usually is.

Here's my take on it:

I was so gung-ho before my motorcycle accident.  As one person said, "Andréa will never give up.  She'll just keep going until she succeeds."

I used to work so hard that people would tell me I was going to give myself a heart attack.

Then the accident came, and to find the energy just to get out of the chair was a day long task.

To walk to the bathroom and back took all my strength and I had to sleep for 4 hours afterward just to recuperate.

Hence, I am not the same person I used to be.  I don't overwork myself, because I can't.

I don't have the strength, energy or brain power.  These things happen when you have lived through brain injury.

Problem is, she saw me so enthusiastic about music before, and now I'm much more lackadaisical about it.

I don't really have a choice.  That aggressively dedicated girl was taken from us in the accident.  I've had to say goodbye to her.

Only problem is, if you're not living in my body/mind, you could never understand, because to everyone else, it seems she's still here.

I look the same.  I don't look like I'm disabled, yet, I am.

She wanted me to have the same passion as I did with HECTOR, however, I didn't have that girl to call upon with BlueLight.

Therefore, the majority of the work fell on her lap.

I couldn't possibly do everything she did.

Just to find the energy to get to my computer is impossible when my bitch of a back is nagging at me.  I just hide and berate myself for not doing anything.

She did everything and furthermore, spent everything by creating her own record company, now that I'm on disability.

I can see where the resentment came from.

She can't see that I'm not the same, so she assumed that I'm just not into it.  Confirmation came with her words, "I always knew you weren't into this as much as me, and now this proves it."

She decided for me that I quit the project because I sold a few items.  It's not about the items, it's not about me moving, it's the fact that she'd had enough of being the head honcho trying to lead around a horse and cart with a carrot.

She'd had enough, and now our friendship is over.  It's killing me, but I'm getting closer to letting it go.

There's nothing I can do about our friendship, that decision was up to her.

And on that note, I'd like to purge a bit of HECTOR.  If you'd like a free cd, I have a few, just check out the HECTOR fan page and it will tell you how to get them.

I can't bring them with me to the Dominican Republic.  I can only bring a few and leave the rest in storage with my baby sister.

I can't rock out for HECTOR anymore, because I can't stand and hold my bass, so in essence, I have actually given up on that project.  It's all for licensing now.

I can't send you any free BlueLight, because I'm not the owner of it.  You'll still have to pay for those ones, but I'd do it soon, because it looks like it's only a collector's item now, and besides, I'd love for her to recoup the money she spent on it.

Anyway, I've had time to think about it and I completely understand her side, not that it makes it any easier.

It makes me angry at the person who hit me on my motorcycle all the more for changing my life.

i am loving and accepting of myself just as i am