The most important part of a movie about my life would, without a doubt, be the soundtrack. The joyful noise which accompanies my daily happenings is much more than just auditory stimulation– to me it is closer to oxygen.

Steady beats melt my heart; ripping guitar solos wriggle their way wantonly through my grey-matter; and the first drop of a funky baseline is damn near erotic. I am not a musician, yet music is my life. I cannot read a scale, yet I would give up food before tunes.

Growing up, I recall (quite literally) falling asleep in front of large speakers on more than one occasion. My father’s audio collection was years in the making, and impressively diverse. Music was fed into my small ears even through the womb. Everything from Black Sabbath to Eric Clapton. From The Doors to Devo; The Grateful Dead to the Talking Heads. I digested it all. Every last Genesis, Zeppelin, and Yes album. I knew the Jimi Hendrix Experience before I was ever truly experienced. I had my first rockstar crush on Kurt Cobain by 7 years old.

My mother, for her part, lives and loves the blues. Robert Cray, Muddy Waters, and BB King all populate her collection. Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young bring her back to hazy college days, and Stevie Ray Vaughn often helped her clean the house.

My father’s passion for music infected me in ways it took years to even realize. He and nearly all his friends were musicians– or at least makers of music. During my childhood, music was more than just sound. It was smiles and laughter, it was being with friends, sometimes it was even a coverup for the arguments. Music was there when I went to bed. There when I awoke. Music was there for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter.

All this exposure to sweet melody has created volumes in my head. Certain songs are part of certain volumes– each vividly dredging up a period of time. For instance, I recall in great detail the winter the Dave Matthews Band released their monumental “Under The Table and Dreaming Album.” I played violin in school ensemble. My father had a fantasy of us in a DMB-esque family band. We listened to that CD over and over for months and, to this day, I remember every lyric to Ants Marching. It’s hard to hear the album without being taken right to that time, that place.

And that is, of course, just one of many examples. As I reflect, my life is rich with musical milestones. Weeks, months, and years flash by to the right album or song. Memory and sound intertwining.

Someday, I will compile an actual soundtrack. Like a Quentin Tarantino film, the musical accompaniment of my story will be eclectic, ironic, and emotional.

The soundtrack to my life will undoubtably tell more story than any trivial literary composition ever could.

Where words fail, music speaks. [[HansChristianAndersen]]


I’m just going to come out and say it: the world is full of music that sucks. This is *not* a playlist of that music.

It’s reggae. It’s quality. And it’s totally free. Scout’s Honor.

So here’s 20 minutes 41 seconds of Kat-crafted tuneage to improve the quality of your afternoon.

Dig it! [[Drop/ Audio Player link]]

I started this blog after a mini-meltdown; an existential crisis of sorts. Nearly two years out of college, I got to wondering where it all was going.

Reality crashes pretty hard, once the party is over and the bills start rolling in.

I hadn’t galavanted off to Europe on a dime and a dream. I wasn’t living out of the back of a VW bus on a beach. I wasn’t in some cosmopolitan city center, rubbing elbows with the upper crust while putting my journalism degree to use at a household-name literary establishment. I was 75 miles from my hometown, living with my brother.

I know. It’s not so bad. It’s not actually bad at all. I work a 9-5 job at a fun company where I get treated well. I’ve made some awesome friends in this city. I live in a nice apartment, I own a couple of nice things, and I’ve gone on a few nice trips.

My problem, I began to realize, wasn’t in my lifestyle, but my perspective.

I have an incredible ability to exist in fiction. We all do. Every time we encounter a bit of information that is not cohesive to our desired reality, our subconscious weighs it heavily before attempting to fit it into the jigsaw puzzle of our lives. We try to make sense of it based on our worldly frame of reference.

When something doesn’t fit into the frame, it is rejected. People don’t want to hear things that throw their reality into question. The human mind cannot wrap itself around inconsistencies. One famous example is that if you saw something fall UP today, you would not totally reject the widely accepted theories of gravity. You would isolate the anomaly, and attempt to put it into your frame.

While I had made a number of adjustments to my existential being, the frame was still much the same. In my mind, failure had become imminent. No matter what I was doing, regardless of what endeavors I undertook, it was all destined for failures. My greatest success– a college diploma– had gotten me nowhere (besides in debt). Fast. Quitting drinking had served to preserve my status-quo. Nothing notably gained. Budgeting my life just left me broke, and painfully aware of it. I was so focused on everything I wasn’t doing that I had delegated all my accomplishments to the failure pile.

I’m now aware that this– all of it– was sense of entitlement.

And, really, I still don’t think I was wrong to have expectations. If you haven’t checked the cost of a 4-year university lately— and I’m not even talking Ivy League, here– do it real fast, then add the cost of books ($100-$500 PER CLASS). I graduated on time, and in the top 25% of my class. I wrote front page articles for the school paper almost every week. I did unpaid internships and befriended my professors. Did I feel entitled to SOMETHING..? hell yes.

And something is exactly what I got– a degree and a load of new responsibilities– a dog, a car, a job in an office; and a relatively comfortable American lifestyle. What was I expecting? I got exactly what I shot for. Nobody was about to hand the world to me on a silver platter.

I needed to adjust my reality.

So, I started this blog. Hammering out my discontent. This has served a dual purpose, as I am a writer. Long before I even knew what a computer was, I was writing. As a child, if I wasn’t reading, I was composing. As simple as that.

In the years following college, as I am discovering is devastatingly common, I fell away from what I love. I left a big part of myself sleeping on a stack of books at the end of finals. I surrendered to the flow and fell into a pattern of  routine and complacency. And that’s sort of where I still sit.

But, all in all, I no longer consider this a failure. Making waves in the lazy river is better than nothing at all. While blogging a few times a week is certainly no large measure of success, I find that I am getting back exactly what I put into it. After adjusting my perspective, I have come to realize that while I enjoy informational writing, and the research that comes with it, it is the ability to elicit emotions with words that I find most compelling.

So, thank you for bearing with me, providing feedback, and coming back for more. Since I started this blog, I have had more than 1,000 hits and am incredibly flattered and inspired by each one. The ability to touch the lives of others, to share my experience, provides nourishment to my very essence.

And while I still search for my purpose and struggle with my first world problems, there’s something to be said for doing what you love. Just because it feeds your soul.

On that note, while you’re here and it IS funkin’ Tuesday, give my friend Mike’s mix a listen! Hand-DJ’d goodness, dig it [[link]] !!

Funkin’ Classic

April 27, 2010

In Rochester today, we began our day with snow. At the end of April.

The sun has returned, thankfully, but the eclectic weather inspired this playlist of classic musicians. These are some of my fav songs by their respective artists, so sit back and enjoy 26 minutes 53 seconds of Kat-blended April SNOW Showers tunes. The price is right!! (its free!!)

Funkin Tuesday 4th Edition Drop/ Audio Player [[link]]

If I were not a physicist, I would probably be a musician. I often think in music. I live my daydreams in music. I see my life in terms of music. [[AlbertEinstein]]

This afternoon I bring you 27 minutes 51 seconds of atmospheric jams. Nothing offensive. Pretty mellow. We’re keepin it real low-impact today.

Without further adieu, its about to get funkin’ ambient–

Funkin Tuesday Drop/ Audio Player [[link]]

I wrote an entry about technology. Blogged, so very ironically, all about my generation’s crippling dependency on electronic devices and digitized social networks. I mused about losing our fathers, embracing big brother, and finding love outside ourselves. An entire segment of this increasingly vanilla global culture not only afraid of being alone, but clueless as to what that even means.

And then, of course, the WordPress App on my iPhone deleted the draft. entirely gone. 450+ words.

So it goes. Better luck next time.

There are a hundred other things I could expound and pontificate on, sure. But, instead, I’ll keep it short and sweet. Why? Because its funkin tuesday already!

Without further adieu, 26 minutes 59 seconds of funkin’ reggae to get you movin’.

It’s Funkin Tuesday Drop/ Audio Player. [[link]]

it’s Funkin Tuesday

April 6, 2010

Nothing particularly profound this afternoon, just a little pick-me-up for your Tuesday at the office.

21 minutes 42 seconds of tasty Kat-blended funk. It’s good stuff, and the price is right.

its Funkin Tuesday Drop/ Audio Player [[link]]

Duck down in your cubicle, bump the volume, and get funky with it! If your coworkers look at you weird, just shout “it’s Funkin Tuesday!!”

We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. [[FriedrichNietzsche]]