“It’s difficult to believe in yourself because the idea of self is an artificial construction. You are, in fact, part of the glorious oneness of the universe. Everything beautiful in the world is within you. No one really feels self-confident deep down because it’s an artificial idea. Really, people aren’t that worried about what you’re doing or what you’re saying, so you can drift around the world relatively anonymously: you must not feel persecuted and examined. Liberate yourself from that idea that people are watching you.”

Russell Brand

If you leave it up to the audience, they can kill you.

Fight with myself till I'm bleeding

There is this one girl who comments on all my husbands posts. In her head they are BFFs, maybe more idk. She is 6 years younger than we are, red hair and glasses. Looks kinda froggy, large forehead. I looked at her profile only because she comments so much that I'm sorta "oh god" when I see she has once again added her two cents. I don't know if once, at one point, X actually responded to her, and this fueled her delusion. If he hasn't, then I don't really understand her. Why would you insistently respond to a celebrities posts with no response? Insanity? Oh if it was that simple. I'm reading I'm With The Band, Confessions of a Groupie and in the first chapter Pamela DeBarres acts similar to the girls today. She was in love with the Beatles and would write them letters and do what might of been the 1960s version of fanfic with her friends. Write stores about them as the wives/lovers of The Beatles. I'm reading this and thinking, god nothing has changed and nothing ever will. The strange thing is, I never acted like that. I never wrote to a celebrity. I didn't have photos of rock stars in my locker as a teen. I had a mirror and unusual things that I found artistic/strange/interesting.

I have one gift that I refuse to open. It's from my mother and I have no idea what it is. I haven't really figured out why I refuse to open it. Do I think that the spirit of Christmas will live on as long as I have one more gift to open? Do I just not really care what it is? Am I saving it for when I need a pick me up? I'm just not sure. I think right now I feel that I got more than I deserve and perhaps I will never open it. She did ask me if I liked the sweater she got me and I don't recall getting a sweater. The weird thing is it is square, but not really clothes box size. I just don't know what I'm doing, but that should be the theme for my life. lol.

Christmas is quite.

I'm not in a good place. I'm anxious. I just nearly lost it listening to I'll be home for Christmas. I'm sad and scared and worried. I'm stuck. I need to get out of here, but in doing so am I running away from one person who loves me? Sometimes I think I need help, but I don't think I could handle being in a facility. I also don't think I should drink. I just don't know what to do anymore.

Answer in song lyrics

 Yourself:: She stepped off the bus out into the city streets Just a small town girl with her whole life Packed in a suitcase by her feet- Fallen Angel Poison or Yeah, my girlfriend takes me home when I’m too drunk to drive And she doesn’t get all jealous when I hang out with the guys She laughs at my dumb jokes when no one does She brings me mexican food from sombrero’s just because (yeah, just because)- Josie Blink 182

 Your friends:: I don't want your big city rising, I don't want your sliver lining, I don't want to be a tattooed millionaire- Tattooed Millionaire Bruce Dickinson. or And I played guitar in a long-haired rock and roll band She asked me why the singers name was Alice I said listen, baby, you really wouldn't understand- Be my lover Alice Cooper

 Your crush/bf/gf.:: Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man- Tiny Dancer

Are you a guy or girl?: Early one mornin' the sun was shinin', I was layin' in bed Wond'rin' if she'd changed at all If her hair was still red.-Tangled up in Blue Bob Dylan

 Where do you want to be right now?: Well I never thought I’d make it here in Hollywood... I never thought I’d ever Want to stay... What I seem to touch these days has turned to gold... What I seem to want, Well you know I’ll find a way- After the glitter fades Stevie Nicks

 Describe how you feel right now: Hello, welcome to the show Thought we broke up years ago What's up, I just shit my pants Gambled and I lost Good times, just blew out my knee I've fallen and I can't get up Oh shit, I think I broke my back Where's the wheelchair? -Falling apart Lagwagon

 Give me a word of advice:: Some friends become your enemies, some friends become your family, take the best with what your given, some say die but this is living.- Good Charlotte

Tell me something uplifting:: Give me a chance to shine and I will blind the world, take a stand be the voice of those who cannot be heard.- Transplants

I didn't run away to come home the same.

From the mixed-up files of Mrs. Basil E Funkweiler

The best thing I read about my husband today:

"X doesn't need a pick up line, he just needs to stare at you for five minutes and say 'hi'"

WTF? If anyone stared at me for 5 minutes I'd run away regardless of how hot, sexy, sex god status they are. Fan girls are so weird.

You keep me on my knees

Mummified in your arms
You keep me on my knees
waiting for
begging for.
I lost my voice in a fire.
- Spitshine Sonata- The Bled

It was only the monotony of the highway that oppressed me.

The Other Side of the Hedge, by E.M Forster

“Because nothing is as good as you can imagine it. No one is as beautiful as she is in your head. Nothing is as exciting as your fantasy.”

Chuck Palahniuk

If you were something special then I wouldn't have this song.

“Love and fame can’t live in the same place.”

The single hand that wipes away your tears means infinitely more then the thousand that may applaud at your moments of success.

I have a hard time with bad press. I know that part of being out there is also being ripped apart. Can't I just have the good times? I know I'm over reacting and that there will always be hecklers who want to tell you to your face ( often on the Internet) that you suck. I don't think anyone really wants the badness. I just want everyone to love me, but at the same till I want to hide.

What just happened was dumb and this little twat has no idea who I am.  I doubt if she did that would shut her up, since females don't like to admit they're intimidated...

We are living in a fake world… But we find reality in this fake world.” — Haruki Murakami

I've started posting things I find on the interwebs, but I'm sure you've gathered as much.

“I wouldn't want to live in that world, but it was fun to walk around on the moon for a day.”

Elliot Smith on performing at the 1998 Oscars.

I don't need to be a superman, as long as you're my biggest fan.

Heaven- Warrant

I do magic tricks for all the boys in the band...

Scars are souvenirs you never lose

The past is never far

Did you lose yourself somewhere out there

Did you get to be a star

And don't it make you sad to know that life

Is more than who we are

I woke up with Run Around Sue in my head. Psycho analyze the shit out of that...

I found this:

Am I allowed to feel weird when I see

females with my husband's band's logo tattooed across their chest? Who does that? I would never do it, and I feel that I have more of a reason to than they do. Or maybe I wouldn't because I'm too close to it. They say never to get your lover's name tattooed on you. So yes, Super Tramp, go for it. Tattoo that logo across your tits. You will probally never know them so it's safe for you. Just hope they don't change their sound or you don't change your taste. (Chump)

The days keep draging on...

I can't breath out of my left nostril. The air in the bus is making my eyes burn, and even though it's only June it's on 24/7.

My new favorite thing to do is look up places to live, but I'm not very good at it. I've only ever lived  the sunny states. I also don't want to be alone. So I feel that I'm doomed ( manifest destiny?) to live a circular existence. I want someplace magical. Paris? I don't speak French, and X would think it was cool for awhile, but he'd never be into the whole ex-pat thing. I think the most exciting thing for him about overseas tours is Absinthe. And either that would quickly wear off, or I'd be stuck in a foreign land with a husband I don't want...

I've read some books, watched some movies... carved out notches in the bunk railing... (Just kidding about that last one, or am I?) 

I tried to watch Raging Bull today. I didn't like it. X pointed out that it was a four star movie, but I guess it was too art house for me. I lost intrest, made jokes that the blond lady was Gwen Steffani, and wondered if Italians were really that angry.

Summer tour is kicking up... Which means busy busy, outdoor dates. HOT. Teenagers, HOT. I'm cranky just thinking about it.

Famous last words of a fool.

And all he had to say to break my heart was that I was breaking his.
His words collapsed me on the bed.
" Don't make fun of me."
Seriously? Was I suspose to walk on egg shells around him?
To fuck off were the first thing that came to mind,
but he looked hurt.
he looked as if I had crossed a line.
That line were it was us against them,
I was now one of them. One of the people who only cared if he bled.
I'm sorry. 

Keith Urban - Without You (with lyrics)

Are you on your way

Don’t you miss your family and your friends
Don’t it feel like this road, never ends
And don’t your freedom make you feel so small
You knock one down, and there's another wall
And so you let it creep back in your memory
And you let it live there, in your mind
Because your to scared to be alone
Your to scared you’d be left behind

Are you one your way
Are you on your way yeah
Are you on your way
Are you comin home
(x2)

Don’t you hate livin with that emptiness
You’ve got someone, but your alone in this
Don’t you hate waiting on, a better day
You know that it will leave you, as soon as it gets here anyway
But you can’t erase it, from your memory
So you let it live there in your mind
Because your to scared to be alone
Your to scared you’d be left behind

Are you on your way
Are you on your way yeah
Are you on your way
Are you comin home
(x2)

When are you comin home
When are you comin home

It’s kinda like a race in time
You can’t see the sign
But you were not alone

So even if you change your mind
You can’t turn back time
But you were not along (you were not alone)

Are you on your way
Are you on your way yeah
Are you on your way
When are you comin home

- Middle Class Rut

middle class rut - are you on your way

I'm nothing without you.

Things that would be more romantic than my story.

If we were young kids living our dreams.
If he were a violent drug addict and I were his savior
If I was there before they were famous and every show was a small victory.
If this was all we ever wanted.

... And everyones the same.

I try to puke quietly as if not to wake you.
When I find that is impossible I can hear your voice in my head, asking if I'm ok.
It doesn't come.
As I stare into my own bial I feel a sick sense of serenity.
There is not a glimmer of shame in me.
I just puked up everything from the last 5 hours.
I could totally do this more.
Then I look in the mirror.
There is nothing like it.
My face is red and swollen.
My eyes bloodshot.
There is a rash on my chest.
Wow Sunday, is this what you want?

“Everyone, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night’s sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape, hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever. The best thing to do in these circumstances is to wake somebody else up, so that they can feel this way, too.”

—	Lemony Snicket

The sign said long haired freaky people need not apply.

TONIGHT we went to dinner at a Mexican place. It was just X and I. Though our waitress was ok she didn't offer us any free chips and salsa. I noticed the other tables had it. I wanted to say something, but what do you say? I also think our food took a long time getting there. I started this as a way to get out how I feel, not so much as to how we're actually treated in public. She didn't really talk to us, but when I asked for a box she said " yes ma'am" and was super nice to me. I asked X if he tipped, he said he did. I wouldn't over. I know getting annoyed by not receiving complimentary chips and salsa is petty of me, and I know my grandmother would say we bring this upon ourselves, with the black hair dye and tattoos and such. But for fuck sakes it's 2011. I can't believe people still fear us or look down on us. And for fuck sake my husband is a rockstar... I don't know if I've ever said that before. I sorta skirt the issue on here. But in all honestly you've seen his videos on MTV. 

Desolation Row

Tonight at dinner the hostess INSISTED on showing us the menu and when the guys weren't paying attention she stormed off. I wanted to get her fired. If we don't care to be showed around the menu then shut up and smile. We're tired and hungry and your a self important high school girl who thankfully ( or maybe not) has no idea who we are.

Our waiter is adorable, tight Sammy Hagar blond curls and bright blue eyes. Crush Crush Crush. He calls me ma'am and leans in close to talk to us quietly. I wonder if X can see the lust I feel for this creature. I wonder if this creature knows who we are. I smile and am polite to him. Z fiddles with his smart phone, X busies himself with dumping sweetner into both his and the singer's drinks. The other two are either outside smoking or at the bar.

I see other couples walk in and be seated. I wonder what it's like to be them. What it's like to live here, to go out to eat then return and park your car outside of your home. Go inside and go to sleep surrounded by your things.

I glare at the hostess as she passes. She should be scared of me. Soon she avoids walking near our table. For some reason I am starving lately. X jokes that I'm scavenging when I try to eat his scraps. I'm not sure what is wrong with me, or if there is nothing wrong at all.

I want to take the Waiter home with me. I want to do bad things to him. I want to go back to whereever he live and do whatever he wants. I wonder how old he is.

Cinderella - Gypsy Road

My Gypsy road can't take me home

I'm doing alright. I usually don't write in here when I'm ok. I think sometimes I adapt, or maybe become numb to this. Then other times I either step away from it and see how surreal it is, or I just get too far into my own head. I need to find a medium between the fuck it I'm drunk and the omg I'm in "The Yellow Wallpaper".

X has been pushing the baby card towards me lately. Which is sorta absurd considering our circumstances. I guess it's really a catch 22 because it's not like we can have a child and continue on this way and it's not like I'm willing to stay home. But we are a married couple and we do want kids. Not to mention we aren't getting any younger. X will be 27 this year. I know we still have about 10 years before we become older parents... and maybe with this lifestyle we will have to do that.  The way I see it like this- after this tour they will take some time off, then record. That is plenty of time to have a baby. It's just what happens when they resume the road. I don't want to be a single mom while X goes back out there. I don't want to cooing " There's daddy" to our child in reference to a man in a music video. And X wants to be a dad, so it's not like he really wants that either. When he breaches this subject he implies that he could walk away from this. That his family is what is important to him. I know this is true. As I said before the tattoos and black hair dye can't hide that fact that he had an outstanding childhood and has good parents. Not the mention the fact that his dad refused to be famous due to this. He wanted to protect his family.

I guess if life was easy we would never have any fun...

If you love someone you would be willing to give up everything for them, but if they loved you back they never ask you to.

I wept with my face in your nightshirt.

I think the beauty is in the details. The quiet moments. The small gestures. I find it harder and harder not to write my husband's name here. In my AA confessional a few post back I did write it, because in my head I don't call him X. I wrote and when I realized what I had done I sat there horrified, as if anyone out there that read this saw it too and knows.

I complain a lot about the tight quarters in which we live, but to be honest all my favorite moments are in close proximity to him. The glow of his eyes in the bunk light, the beer on his breath and the smoke mixed with hair spray in his hair. The counter of a 100 different dressing rooms sitting there like a child watching their parent dress for a date. The way he will hold my hand with his left hand an place his right hand on my inner wrist when we walk, as if he knows he has to use both hands to keep me here. And in that knowing he also knows that we are both fragile and scared. I'll forever let him cling to me.

Last night he took me in his arms backstage. Put one hand on the small of my back and danced with me. Slowly and longingly dancing to the sound of the load in. Cases clanked and workers stomped on the stage a few feet away, but in that moment we were love. I wanted to possess the simple gesture forever. I wanted to lock myself up in those arms, that hair those breaths. I wanted to take him far away from there. He pulled back and smiled at me. I tried to smile back. Adorable.

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” — Ernest Hemingway

P!nk - Don't Let Me Get Me

“Fake people, fake smiles, fake love. Everything has to be fake for people. Doesn’t it? Whatever happened to real people, real smiles, and real love.” — Edina Pali

I'm safe up high, nothing can touch me But why do I feel this party's over? No pain inside, you're my protection But how do I feel this good sober?

When I first went on tour it was like a permanent vacation. I had no worries and no concerns. I could be trashed 24 hours a day and it wouldn't make a difference, because nothing was expected of me. And perhaps that is why I did it. I wasn't a "fuck yeah" dancing on the table and making out with groupies kind of trashed, I was more of an alcoholic trashed. Very quickly I hid it. I would drink in bathroom stalls, I would hide booze in other containers. I wouldn't feel right if I wasn't drinking by noon. I was numb.

X knew. He didn't like it, but he was as clueless as I was to try to stop it. He hid booze from me. He watched me, he made others watch me. Z was up my ass all the time since he's X's best friend. But Z wasn't nice about it. He'd say things like " I can't fucking believe that out of all the skanks that want a shot with X he married your drunk ass." That didn't make it better. I drank because I was lonely and scared.  I was out of place. I only had X and there I was defying him. I don't mean defy as in he forebode me to drink, but he loves me. And as I said before he's actually more normal than you'd expect. He doesn't want an alcoholic for a wife an he doesn't want me to be unhappy. Sadly we never figure out how to fix that.
I don't drink anymore. X convinced me that I was too good for that. It was more than that, but that is what it came down to. And after I stopped drinking I started to recoil even more. I started to become obsessive with things and try to figure out ways to break out of this. I also started writing this.

"Three finger whiskey pleasures the drinker, but moving does more than the same thing for me." 

- That line is utter BS. Moving isn't the closest thing to being free. It's the farthest thing. I don't feel free moving all the time. I feel lost and trapped and scared. I feel dis shoveled and wayward. I feel kept. X loves me. I know that. But I find myself more and more using one man's love as my rationalization for my unhappiness. But how do I leave? How can I tell him I want to go home now. And when I go home what will I do? This is all I am now. And at home I'm even less than I am now.

P!nk - Sober (Live Performance) [AMA 2008] HQ

She's ferocious and she knows just what it takes to make a pro blush All the boys think she's a spy She's got Bette Davis eyes.

The singer's gf has been visiting. She is what you'd expect from me, all glitz and attitude. What it takes to be a wife in this business. Whenever I see her Bette Davis eyes pop into my head. The guys also act weird when she's around, sorta shady and shifty like she is a spy.

I personally don't trust her. She's like wanna be sociallite with a Victoria secrets charge card.  She's pretty don't get me wrong, but do I think she likes, loves or cares about him? Not a chance.

You don't need money,  don't take fame
Don't need no credit card to ride this train
It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes
but it might just save your life
That's the power of love - Huey Lewis and The News

She met a man, plays in a band, last weekend

And he lives out on the west coast, she says she's gotta go.

I've heard you only like country music when you're in love or heartbroken. Those of course were the wisdom of a college boy. Right now, it's killin me. How do these good ol' boys know me so well?

Home

bits and peices of a country song that left me glued in the novelty tshirt section of a travel center-

Maybe surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel all alone, I wanna go home

 Another airplane
Another sunny place
I’m lucky I know
But I wanna go home
I’ve got to go home

 And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life
It’s like I just stepped outside
When everything was going right
And I know just why you could not
Come along with me
This was not your dream
But you always believed in me

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man

I feel like this today. I ended up watching some Real House Wives of show today. I hate those type of women. I think they look like a pack of hens teetering around on their high heels. It makes me giggle every time they go somewhere in a pack. One of them was told she was nothing without her famous husband. That his me hard.

'What matters is not wealth, or status, or power or fame, but how well we have loved'

President Obama.

I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairytale...

I'm a real woman and he is a real man. I still get excited when I see footage of him and painted and primped and literally I have to say to myself, "That is my husband." No fucking way!

I love him best when we are in bed. when he is shirtless and quite and tired. The way his eyes shine in the bunk light and how close we have to be to fit, and maybe just a little bit, how much we suffer to be happy. He, more than likely, had just came off of a hour long set, full of energy and emotion. He's tired, but still playful. I have his full attention, and isn't that really all a wife ever wants?

I'm not after fame and fortune

I'm after you.
I have many random scenarios where I think I'd be more content. The first being a Lady or Dutchess, some lower lying Society women who gets to own a country estate. I don't want a castle, but merely a manor house. Again what it is that I will do all day that cements this idealistic life is unclear. The daydream usually ends with my realization that I'd be in the situation as I am in now.
I realize that in these daydreams I often am held up somewhere, be it The Plaza or my estate. I don't want to see anyone, but I still want them to see me. It's a rough life when you want your cake and it eat it as well.

I've decided that I need more make up. I have plenty and usually end up using the same dark eye make up my husband wears on stage. I also want new hair, but I can't decide what. I think my hair suites me, but right now I'm not suiting myself. I like pretty clothes, but tend to again feel most like myself in worn out t shirts and jeans. I wear vans a lot since I take them off a lot too and run around in my socks. I think it's pretty safe for me to not have shoes on backstage or before the show opens. Sometimes I go waltzing around the venue up to the nose bleed section during sound check. Once I stayed out too long and was trapsing around up there, backstage pass on and nothing special on. The two girls were sitting in their seats. They were pretty, long hair young and thin, probably too much eyeliner and a septum pricing. They looked at me like I was crazy and one of them asked, "who are you?"