Me, Peter Gabriel, Sherlock Holmes and Leipzig

I think my writing career has hit rock-bottom, because that was the best title I could think up.  I've just hit the point in my career where even my subconscious doesn't give a shit anymore.  I've spent most of this year writing 350 versions of these titles:

• How to Choose a Lawyer
• How to Choose a Roofing Contractor
• Do I Have Bed Bugs? (which, come to think of it, is practically the same as How to Choose a Lawyer)

Last week I had to write an article that began with this phrase "When you own a septic tank ..."  When I was a kid looking out of the window and daydreaming about my future, I guarantee you that I never thought, "I'm gonna grow up to write about septic tanks!"

I took these assignments because, quite frankly, I needed the money.  I have two dogs, two aquariums and a mountain of medical bills to support.  On Wednesday night, I'm off for what will most likely be my last trip out of the country ever -- a few days in Leipzig, Germany.  I'm going there to see a Peter Gabriel concert.  If I'm not crippled by migraines, I hope to explore Leipzig, too.

If this is your first visit to this blog, let me explain some things about me and Peter Gabriel:

• I fell in love with him on June 15, 1986
• I have met him a few times.  He wasn't impressed.
• My biggest mental breakdown involved him (although he had absolutely no idea what was going on) and I wound up running away from home when I was 29 to live in the woods for about five years.
• I tried having boyfriends.  The last one tried to kill me so no more boyfriends ever except for imaginary boyfriends.  There's a guy I've dreamt about since 1986 named Peter.
• I've devoted a good chunk of my life and finances to being a PG fan
• I'm now getting really tired of it.

Now, it could be that this concert will be incredible and I won't have a migraine and all that happy crappy, but chances are I'll come home exhausted, cranky and not looking forward to the rest of my life.

So where does Sherlock Holmes fit in?  One night when my insomnia was at it's worst, I rediscovered Jeremy Brett's Sherlock Holmes on YouTube.  I had seen the first series of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes waaaay back in 1984 or 1985.  I checked out one of Arthur Conan Doyle's books from my high school library, but it was way over my head.  (Now that I've had to study Shakespeare, Conan Doyle is a walk in the park.)

Man, it felt like coming home.  I've had LSD slipped to me (one of my ex-boyfriends did it as a joke) but I have never had as good a trip as re-watching Jeremy Brett's 10 year stint as the Great Detective.  Sadly, Jeremy Brett (who's real name was Peter Jeremy William Huggins) died in 1995 at the age of 59. 

The Peter I dream about (remember I mentioned him?) usually fought with me in my dreams.  He insisted on being taller than the real PG and had a different speaking voice than PG's.  After I watched a clip of Jeremy Brett as Holmes did I realize that it was THAT voice I had been dreaming about all of these years.  So now Peter and I rarely fight or argue in my dreams anymore. 

So, Jeremy Brett's Sherlock Holmes is my imaginary friend.  Some people have God as an imaginary friend -- I have Sherlock Holmes (or Mr. Holmes as he prefers to be called.)  He's stuck in my head and remarks on just about anything I do, see or hear.  He's not looking forward to this trip to Leipzig and he's not too thrilled about going to the concert.  He'd much rather I spent the time reading and listening to Paganini or Beethoven. 

Gonna be an interesting trip.  The one in my head, if not the one I actually encounter in Germany.