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When the sun goes down

Tuesday, November 24th, 2009

Last night I had a dream that Kenny Chesney and a completely bald Keith Urban wanted to hang out with me.  Actually, to be specific, Kenny asked if he could drive my car, and I was like, “CAN YOU EVER” – which is weird because I generally distrust men in necklaces.

So Kenny, Keith, and I loaded into the old Honda, and I insisted on sitting in between them, which was very awkward because that put me in between the bucket seats and on top of the emergency break.  But we were cruising along, and at one point, I said, “Guys, you know that we’re going to have to take a picture – because no one is ever going to believe me.”  They both laughed reluctantly, like, “Yeah, sure,” but I could tell that they didn’t really want anyone to know that they had spent any time with me.  They were just using me for my car.


Friday, October 30th, 2009

I moved to Nashville because I am a songwriter.  But truth be told, at the time that I moved, I could count the number of songs I had actually written on one hand.  More “brooding” than “brilliant,” I was never one of those children who composed music at age 6.  The decision to write was just that: a decision… that I made when I was 23.

Then I moved to Nashville, the songwriting Mecca of America.  I had nothing to go on except a hunch that words and music and expression made up a very important sliver of my heart, and that I had a passion and desire to get better at piecing them together.

In the last two years, I’ve been learning a tiny bit of what it means to write.  It’s been scary – to admit to myself that I might have something worth sharing, and to open myself up to the possibility of looking like a total loser.  I have felt both in equal measure – because nothing says I’M ANNIE PARSONS! like emotional highs and lows.

But here I am – a completed EP in hand.  Words and music by… me.  Songs that, I believe, stand on their own – and brought to life by my dear friend and producer Joshua Stevens.  They’re a small offering, but they’re mine – and I can’t wait for you to hear them.

Check back on Monday to order your copy of my EP, “Wish That I Was”!


Marijke Jane

Friday, October 9th, 2009

Almost 3 years ago, through the wonders of the internet, I blog-met (it’s a thing, people) a girl named Marijke.  “Muh-RIJ-key?” I wondered.  No.  “Muh-RY-kuh.”  Like “Mariah” with a k.

A fellow blogger, fellow songwriter, fellow dreamer, Marijke has been living in Anchorage, Alaska, for several years.  She has had a steady job, but music is where her heart is – and about a year ago, she came to Nashville to check out the scene.  In what is becoming a regular occurrence in my life, we met face-to-face for the first time when she showed up on my doorstep.*  We spent a weekend exploring the city, hearing live music, and talking about life.  She is a kindred spirit, for sure.


And now, in a brave and gutsy move, Marijke is about to move from Alaska to Texas to pursue music – talk about a change of scenery.

Today, she is releasing a CD.  And from the previews that I’ve heard, this is a GREAT album.  Her voice is pure, her lyrics honest and truthful, and the instrumentation so well done (good job, Jon!  Jon showed up on my doorstep one time, too*).

Would you support her by ordering a copy?  For only $10, you’ll play a part in helping make my friend’s dream possible, as well as get an awesome, quality product.  I’ve ordered it – and I wish that I could be at her release show tonight.  If you live in Anchorage, YOU SHOULD GO!

Thanks, Marijke, for reminding me what it means to live boldly.

– – – – – – – –

*Happening again tonight when Joey and Sam show up!  YES!  Best blog friends forever!

I should probably just stop sleeping

Monday, September 14th, 2009

Last night, I had a horrific nightmare that I walked into the bathroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror – and my lips had a hard extra layer on them, almost black, like an avocado rind.  I had to peel them off – two big lip-shaped pieces – to get back to my normal pink smackers.

It wasn’t as bad as the time I dreamed that I…

You know what, I can’t even say it.  If I wrote what happened in this dream, I can guarantee that no one would ever come back to this blog again.  Some images get burned into the brain forever – and as much as I wish for someone to bear this burden with me, I won’t do it to you.  I will martyr myself on the altar of nightmares for your sake.

Don’t say I never did anything for you.

But seriously – what is going on here?  WHY am I having these horrible dreams?  I don’t watch horror movies.  I’ve never witnessed true atrocities.  And yet, I go to sleep, and am transported to being the central figure in an episode of “Rescue 911.”  The freakshow edition.

Maybe I’m spending too much time alone.

If left to my own devices, I would hang out by myself all the time.

No, really.  All the time.

For the past 6 months or so, I have spent most of my free time alone.  As an introvert, time to recharge is important – but when does it become too much?  When does the self-care become selfish? When does the coddling result in an inadvertent snapped neck?


But what does it all MEAN?

Monday, August 17th, 2009

Last night, I dreamed that I was driving a logging truck in an ice storm – storms aside, I am fairly certain that truck-driving would be my ideal vocation.  When I finally arrived home in Montrose, Colorado, safe and sound, someone knocked on my door.  I opened it to find a man standing in the swirling snow; he told me that he built his own boat, and he really thought I should come see it.

“But – I’m not wearing any makeup!” I protested.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“But – I don’t have any shoes!” I challenged.

“That’s okay – I brought you these.”  He pulled out high-heeled leather boots, lined with sheep’s wool.  They were his mother’s.  They were size 6 ½.

He won me over.  What can I say – it doesn’t take much.

– – – – – – – –

This week, I promise to write about the following things:
–    “Friday Night Lights”
–    My 10-year high school reunion
–    How a doorknob reminded me that God loves me

Sending Dawn to Antarctica

Wednesday, July 22nd, 2009

If there’s anything that I love about blogging, it’s the possibility of a connection.

And no, not just for me.

Did you know that two different couples have met in the comments section of this blog, and dated for a bit?  I mean, people with NO prior association, and I had nothing to do with it – I didn’t even know it was happening until it was happening.

So, if nothing else, let that be a lesson to you: comment on blogs – you never know whose internet eye you’re going to catch with your wit and thumbnail picture.

Then again, you could wind up like me – just the ring-leading moron.

Anyway, she might be someone I have never met face-to-face.  But people, Dawn is a Hootenannie reader – she is ONE OF US – and she is trying to get to Antarctica.  I love her passion and enthusiasm for a place that so many of us think of as totally barren; this passion has led her to enter a contest in which the grand prize is a trip to the polar regions.

But she needs your votes!

Click here to vote for Dawn – to support someone you didn’t even know you were connected to – and help her dream come true.  It will cost you nothing.  And honestly (I’m channeling Ira Glass here), what kind of a person do you want to be?  Someone who sits back assuming that someone else will do it for you – or a person of ACTION?

I might be putting words in her mouth now, but I am telling you that if you vote for her, she will bring you back a baby penguin.


Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009

Behold, the return of the deadbeat blogger!

I mean, seriously.  It’s embarrassing.  I have been like an unfit mother – one who leaves her kids in the car while she hits up the Safeway for PBR and tampons.  I have abandoned this blog in the parking lot for far too many days – and in the meantime, not written a single word of ANYTHING.

But really, can you blame me?  I was busy fulfilling MY LIFE DREAM.

If you’ve been reading this site for longer than two minutes, you’ll know that I’m a songwriter, and that the jewel of my heart (um, yes, I just called it “the jewel of my heart” – so?) is the Bluebird Café.  Back in October, when I was invited to play there (can we all just squeal one more time?), June 21 felt so far away.  But before I knew it, my parents were flying in, Greta was surprising me on my doorstep the day before (listen – can you hear me scream?), I was trying on 96 different outfits, and then, all of a sudden, staring out at the lights.

This is what it looks like when dreams come true.  (Thanks to Deb for the picture!)


And this is what it sounds like.  (Thanks to AnnieBlogs for recording!)

And here are best friends.


And here are just a few of the most wonderful cheerleaders.


And here are amazing parents.


And here is a man with a mullet in a SweetTarts shirt.


Because this is Hootenannie.com – where the blogs end strong.

Rambling preamble to a totally pointless video

Tuesday, May 26th, 2009

Before getting roommates this past December, I lived alone for 5 years.  I cannot remember a time that I was ever scared to live by myself.  But last night, I started to wonder… why?

I’m still house-sitting, and when it was close to midnight and I was in bed working on the computer, one of the dogs sat straight up and started growling.  He made his way to the doorway to the hall, and then started barking ferociously.

I knew that someone was in the house.

I knew that he was coming down the hall.

I knew that I should have made Charlton Heston my president.

I sat there frozen as Lucky the dog ran down the hall and out to the living room.  Then everything fell silent.

That’s when I got TERRIFIED.

Because I started hearing whispers – like the smoke monster from “Lost.”  So not only is there someone in the house, but he is a Jedi of canines, and is putting Lucky into a trance, and if he can do that to a yellow Lab, then what can he do to me?  I’m going to wind up with a tracking device injected into my neck, brainwashed, telling people that my name is Kiki Van Alsteen and assassinating foreign officials.

But instead of finding myself a weapon and going on a man-hunt, I told myself that I was crazy, and turned out the light.  And fell asleep completely petrified – like, blankets-pulled-up-to-my-chin, eyes-squeezed-shut, peeing-my-pants scared.

Can you say “avoidance”?

This morning, I forgot that I had to go to work.  I was in the middle of a dream that Taylor Swift was holding her CD release party at my old Music Row apartment, and thousands of people were lined up on the sidewalk outside my home (I was going to make them take off their shoes at the door).  My alarm kept going off, but I guess that I kept snoozing, because when the dream reached a crescendo and the other Annie had won a lunch at P.F. Changs with Taylor Swift herself, I was already a half an hour late for work.

But none of that is important.  Behold!  Today, I have a video.

Warning: I may have discovered sound effects.

I know.  Get excited.

Productivity and Boredom from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

A life goal I wasn’t aware I had

Tuesday, April 14th, 2009

Over the weekend, I dreamed that I was on an “American Idol” style reality show.  I was one of the final two contestants, and I was sweating bullets – which is awkward when one is wearing an evening gown.

The moment of truth came.  The host made the announcement:

“And the winner is… ANNIE PARSONS!”

The crowd went wild.  I crumpled into a heap on the stage.  I was out of control.  I was crying and screaming and so ecstatic, I couldn’t contain myself.

Because I had just won a 4-year residency at Vanderbilt Medical School.


Straight from my fortune cookie today at lunch:

In dreams and in life, nothing is impossible.

Oh, really?

Kristy girl

Sunday, March 29th, 2009

Sometimes, someone you’ve never met can give you the biggest gift.

Kristy Behrs of Wreckless Photography has been a second soul to me. She lives far, far away in California, and although we’ve never met face to face, I feel that we have a bond – an understanding – a trippy connection that bridges the distance. I am continually in awe of her eye, her sensitivity, and her genuine spirit. She recently solicited the ideas of friends and strangers and admirers to spark her creativity; she got some fabulous suggestions and challenges (definitely read through them!) and, with eyes wide open, has been on a hunt.

I’m honored to be first.