Hands Hands Hands

I went hiking today with Clo-Clo, and I needed it badly. The sun came out, as did my freckles, and the fresh air felt incredible. We walked along the ocean in Marin, the views were incredible. I took some pics with my phone, I'll toss them up on my Facebook page later on.

I slipped on a steep slope as we were heading back to the car. Scratched up my one hand a bit.

There are few times in my life when my mothers voice actually rings through my head, but whenever I hurt myself I really hear her: "Kathryn Ann- be careful of your hands!!!!"

[Yes, my mom is a huge believer of whipping out those full names whenever she possibly can]

My brother got screamed at many a time when we were wresting around- "Be careful with her hands- be CAREFUL!! No- that's enough. Stop it. Stop it right now!"

I really never gave it any thought when I was growing up- but from what my family tells me it was pretty obvious right away that music was my forte. I picked up instruments easily- it came as naturally to me as breathing. Rules at home for me were a bit different. I had practicing to do- and I was rewarded for my music lessons the way most kids were rewarded for good report cards. My days were filled with private lessons, rehearsals, performances and endless hours on flute and piano.

Don't hurt her hands!

School for me was really an excuse to do music. While you don't technically have a "major" when you're in high school, mine was music. I was involved in so much music it was mind-blowing. On top of sports and student government... blah blah blah...

College was the same thing, only minus the sports and the student government. All I did was music. Music all day, all night and the day after that. After college all I did was music- teaching, that is.

I didn't actually start writing music until 2000, and not seriously until 2001- and sometimes I need to remind myself that while I have been doing music my whole life, I've only been a singer/songwriter for 7 years. And that is not very long considering, for instance, that I've played the piano for 25 years. I really feel like I'm just getting started, baby!

So for the love of God- Don't hurt her hands.

When out of nowhere...

Okay- so I messed up my 30 days in a row, but to be honest I had a good excuse.

Much to my horror, last Monday my boss was suddenly laid off which has made me an entire department of...one.

That's right- I am now my own department and my work load has tripled. Needless to say, I've been running on all engines trying to get a grip on the situation. It is going to take me a while to learn this new juggling routine until I have it all down to a science.

So anyway- that's why I haven't been writing lately. But I feel like I'm at least *starting* to get a grip on things, so here I am making a go of it.

Thanksgiving was a blast- Clo-Clo made an amazing turkey that was covered in bacon (why shouldn't it be?) and I made my most-favorite green bean casserole and whipped yams. They were AMAZING if I do say so myself. It was a wonderful evening with friends and wine and good times all around.

Honestly for the last few days I've been using the majority of my energy trying to get a grip. This change at work has seriously altered my day-to-day routine. I depend on my day-to-day routine because it leaves my mind clear to work on music while I'm doing everything else by rote. Now I actually need to concentrate on what I'm doing, which is surprisingly draining. When I get home at the end of the day, I'm exhausted. It's left very little left over to focus on the things I actually want to focus on.

That's why I'm glad for days like today- I'm in the office and getting things done (she says while she's blogging) but there is so little incoming traffic that I'm able to take a moment and get my bearings back. This morning I was able to reorganize my desk drawers, make my new space my own, and throw away a lot of stuff. All good. I'm feeling a bit more in control now.

And thank God for my amazing co-workers who have all offered to pitch in and help me out with the task of re-organizing. *Sigh*

Day 12: Life as a Blank Wall

I just got my new bio's back.

They were written by playwright Morgan Ludlow, who asked me to basically give him my entire life story. I belched it out all over the longest email ever- where I started, what I used to do, my degrees, and accomplishments... blah blah blah.

He took all that noise, and along with a few phone calls to clarify some facts, put together these amazing descriptions of me. [which i am so thankful for, because i have a very hard time writing about myself]

As I was reading it over I began to wonder: What if it all got wiped clean?

What if I could start completely over? No past.

Would I do anything differently?

And to answer honestly: Yes, I believe I would.

So many of the choices we all make on a daily basis are based in fear. Fear of failure (or failure again), fear of success, or of going into unknown territory. Is there something there that can hurt us? Is there a bad surprise in store? What if they say no? What if they say yes? What if I end up feeling like a fool?

If I had no past, those thoughts would not occur to me at all. I have those thoughts now because all of those exact things have happened to me at one time or another. I have been made a fool of, I have made enormous mistakes. I have both succeeded and failed at any number of things- and it's never easy either way. I have had scary beginnings, sad endings. I've had my heart broken a million times.

And so have you. There is nothing unique about me in that fashion at all.

And while all of those experiences do indeed help me- help me to grow, to make better choices, to avoid making the same mistake twice... they hinder me as well.

I am less likely to take a chance. I am less likely to leap without second guessing.

And the absolute worst: I am less likely to have faith.

When faith is so crucial every single day.

So how do you move around it? I guess the true answer falls right in line with the rest of life's annoying little answers- you just suck it up.

You see the past, you realize that this next choice you have to make could really suck, and you storm ahead anyway. Maybe you grit your teeth a little more than is absolutely necessary, but there it is.

Or as the old coach at West used to say: "Rub some dirt on it and get back out there!"

But it would be easier- I think, anyway- to not have that excess weighing you down. It would be easier to take that chance, that leap, and hope for the best.

Then again- perhaps if I didn't have the past I have, I wouldn't know I could take leaps at all.

Day 11: TGIF

Man, I am just dying today. My allergies are completely killing me and I'm practically falling asleep right now.

Today is my Special Day though, the day I was adopted! It's like my second birthday- too bad I'm feeling so icky.

I'm not really feeling philosophical today,

just delirious.

Day10: Where do the days go

man- as things are getting busier I am running out of time during the normal day to post.

Mike Herman blew into town yesterday.

Like the wind beneath my wings.

Mike, known affectionately as "Brother Kuma" from my college days, is a dear dear friend of mine who I got back in touch with via Facebook and Yahoo IM over the last year or so. I haven't seen him face to face in five bloody years.

Unfortunately, he was only here for one night, and one night only.

So I asked him- "what do you want to see?"

He wanted to eat sushi or pizza.
See City Lights Bookstore in North Beach
The Golden Gate Bridge
Haight Ashbury
and Golden Gate Park

And we did all of them. (I am shocked also)

Something about being around Mike's energy and having a late-night adventure with a random group of people helped to solve a curiosity I've been having for the last few weeks. It's a particular sensation I've been having lately. Usually in the evening. And as I'm listening to Filibuster (another aptly named brother from college) go on and on and ON and ON and ON (and on and on) - I still couldn't quite place my finger on it. I had had it last Saturday when EBee and I were walking on the beach and I ended up dropping my phone in the ocean. I also had it when J-girl and EBee and I ended up at Union Square the night of the election cheering with the crowd.

Something about the sensation is familiar, although I've never done these things before. But it isn't deja vu, and it isn't a past life experience...what the hell is this sensation? I know what it is, and yet I don't know what it is - and it' s driving me nuts.

Finally it hits me. We've finished dinner, and we go see the bridge, and we head into Haight Ashbury where we meet up with J-Girl, and we have a beer and then head into Golden Gate Park in the dark -it's now about 11:30 at night.

The air is chill- hands in pockets we're all discussing random topics as we smell the moist green/dirt smell of being deep among the trees. We come upon the baseball fields- eeriliy lit with the faint light from street lights far in the distance- all the sprinklers are on and the whole field seems filled with magical white cascades that seem to glow.

J-girl takes off her shoes and jacket and runs out among them... and the words become clear in my head for the first time: "this is the way I always want it to be".

Being in the moment. That's what the sensation is. Being present and realizing immediately when something is special and that it's happening RIGHT NOW. All of them- the beach, union square, the park last night - and the reason in particular that Mike highlighted it was that almost my entire college experience was Moments like that. Many he himself was present for.

No wonder it felt familiar.

I realized at that moment, that no matter what I do in my life, or what direction my carreer or path may take me - THESE are the things that I get the most enjoyment out of. Moments. Beautiful delishious moments that just ring true.

Every song I have ever finished writing is a Moment. I remember it every time I perform the song.

Every cup of coffee/talk I've had with J-Girl while sitting on the top of a hill in the dark is a Moment.

Every hike I've taken with Clo-Clo up a mountain.

Every time I simply sat on my fire escape and contemplated life - these are the moments that make up me. Make up who I am. Have made me grow.

I'm so glad I was able to identify that sensation- now it feels like an old friend.

Day 9: Cleaning House

Does anyone else get that clean, amazing feeling when you finally clear out a closet or a crowded drawer? Is that just me and my Virgo tendencies?

I decided about a year ago to become a minimalist- which sounds a lot easier than it really is. It's a surprising reaction when you open a drawer with the specific plan of emptying it out and you realize quite suddenly that you keep things, sometimes just to remember.

Sometimes just to have that visual recognition that you knew someone you no longer know, or went to a place you no longer visit, or "do you remember that one time when..."

And being that I literally started my life over almost three years ago now- there were a LOT of things I was hanging on to.

And I figured something out quite quickly. I need to be rid of these things. I need them to be gone. But I fear losing these memories. Just because I no longer want the physical reminders of such things living with my daily does not mean that I don't want to remember at all.

So I take pictures of things. Which helps a lot. Because I do love flipping through my pictures - and I do actually see the pictures of these things and I do think "oh my goodness... remember when...?"

Some of the hardest things to get rid of are books. Mainly, because I've always taken pride in having a large collection of books- but in reality, I don't use most of them. The reference books, sure. But the novels that I read once and didn't like enough to read again (I will re-read and re-read and re-read books over and over if I love them).

Why keep them? Why have things that I don't, or never, use? The common reaction is "I might need it someday" but why clutter my life with "someday" when all I have is right now?

I find it comforting- only having what I need. I get pleasure in "cleaning house". I do it every once in a while, and every time I get rid of more stuff. It's taken me almost three years - and I'm ALMOST there.

You can't become a minimalist overnight!

Day 8: Yesterday

Was a personal day.

The End.

Day 7: Coulda Woulda Shoulda

I have discovered that in general it seems I have a habit to depend on people in order to accomplish things - and in all honesty, sometimes you have to do that because there is literally no other way to accomplish some things.

But an ongoing string of similar situations is now leading me to believe that I'm supposed to depend more on myself in particular circumstances.

For instance- the last THREE times I have made plans with a friend to go away or take a day/weekend trip out of the city they have bailed on me at the last moment.

[that whole "third time's a charm" thing is total B.S.]

Which leads me to believe one (or a combination) of the following:

1. I am not supposed to depend on others if I need a break
2. I am not supposed to leave the immediate Bay Area
3. I am never supposed to leave the immediate Bay Area
4. The immediate Bay Area is my Hotel California

I am so frustrated right now that I know I'm not going to make much sense. All I know is that when something happens once, it's life. When something happens twice it could be chance, when it happens three times that's the universe talking to you.

What is the message, though?

Day 6: Oops

So yesterday went by so quickly that I forgot to post at all.

And I also dropped my phone in the ocean.

And watched a person twirling fire.

And ate sushi.

And ate banana cake.

And sang happy birthday.

And listened to Sting.

And hugged Keith, Amy, Asher, Bev, Lynn, Larry, Lisa, Jessica, Dave, Chad, Michelle, and Elise.

And drank an oil can of Fosters in a paper bag.

And went to bed at 1 am.

So I'm counting this as a post.

Pppppptthhpppbbbbtttt... :)

Day 5: Life is not What-not

Tell me about it.

The current state of, well, EVERYTHING, is making me feel like I have some very big choices to make.

How to move along in the direction that you need to go in when every obstacle in the known universe is standing in your way?

Or is it?

Something that I'm slowly becoming aware of lately is that those obstacles you see are sometimes a self-indulged illusion. They aren't really there. What you are seeing is your fear of change. Your fear of evolving. Your fear of taking a chance.

You see, I'm an odd artist. I have that whole "alternating perspective" and "never quite fitting in" weirdo thing going on. I also have the "she cleans up pretty good" thing going on. And I also have the "I'm a Virgo rising virgo and my underwear drawer is organized" thing going on.

Which means I can maintain feet-on-ground simultaneously with head-in-clouds simultaneously with 1st, 2nd, and 3rd person perspectives, while walking in 4 inch heels and looking damn good doing it.

[Don't try to be me unless you are wearing protective head gear/this is why you should thank me for being in therapy - you're welcome]

Thusly- I have level-enough thinking that being without health insurance makes me very very nervous. Which is where those imaginary obstacles come into play.

I *could* quit my day job and do music full time the way I want to. I *could* work a bunch of odd jobs and be able to sleep late enough that I really could go out and perform all over the place at night. I *could* get my cost of living down low enough to do these things.

But - and here's the trixy part...

That means I'd be taking a big big chance. That means no steady paycheck. That means cheap unreliable health insurance. That means maybe getting a skeezy roommate.

Can I do that? Can I take a chance? How important is it? What are the deal breakers? What can I, and can I not do?

Don't get me wrong- I like my day job a lot. But I love music more. I adore my co-workers, and my steady check, and my health insurance, and my other benefits, - but I CRAVE being on stage. I'm amazing at excel spreadsheets- I can calculate budgets, goals, predict trends, wow clients, and close deals like a maniac, but I hear lyrics in my head while I'm doing it. Writing music comes as naturally to me as breathing. I never get as much satisfaction from closing a sale as I do from finishing a song that I really struggled with, or from getting off stage after one of those life-altering performances.

Pros...cons...pros...cons.....

I think I have a lot of thinking to do.....

Day 4: Adoption Love

Two of my closest friends are in the process of becoming fost-adopt parents. I couldn't be more thrilled for them. Not only are they both amazing people, but they are good natured, loving, and extremely self-aware - which to me means great parents!

And being an adoptee myself - seeing two strong, grounded people choosing to go the route of adoption makes me BEAM!

My brother and I were both adopted as infants - and were raised knowing such. Adoption was something to be proud of! We were taught how extra-special we were - and how much our birth parents loved us to give us such a wonderful gift. Each of us have a "Special Day" which is the day we were adopted. It's like a second birthday. Mine is next week!

Through pure chance, there were quite a few kids in my class at school and in my neighborhood that were also adopted, so it never seemed strange or odd. I can think of 6 other kids right now that I grew up with that were also adopted. Actually, it wasn't until I was in college that I met a classmate who had never met an adopted person - my initial reaction was "have you been living under a rock?"

It actually irritates me a little when, after finding out I'm adopted, some people refer to my mom and dad as my "adopted parents". They're my parents. My Mom is my Mom. Period. We argue and disagree and she disapproves of almost everything I do, and then we kiss and hug. Sound like a Mom? That's because she is. Same with my Dad. And my brother. And the rest of my whole gigantic Scottish-German-Wisconsin family.

It takes a special love to bring into your life and raise a child that isn't yours- and it creates an amazing bond. Not only between the parent and child, but other parents and other children who have also been adopted. There are whole communities, chat rooms, support groups, all dedicated to the celebration of adoption! Yay!!

In 1999 my birth family found me- and I've been slowly getting to know them via email and once by phone. It is definitely fascinating seeing the similarities even though I never knew them - especially in appearance, since I've never really looked like anyone before. (My youngest half-sister looks like a mirror image of me when I was her age. You wouldn't be able to tell our high school photos apart)

But regardless- my family is my family. Blood doesn't matter as much as love.

This is the poem my Mom had while i was growing up - pretty much sums up the whole thing.

Not flesh of my flesh, Nor bone of my bone, But still miraculously my own. Never forget for a single minute, You didn't grow under my heart - but in it

--- Fleur Conkling Heylinger

So THANK YOU L&E for becoming part of the extended family of adoption love! You are very very welcome here! I'm so excited for you!

Day 3: Why Quinn Always Gets in the Way

Quinn is... what. How do I even explain Quinn? He's...well, huge. He's hyper. He's a lover. He's a leaner.

He's fearless.

He roars.

Quinn is my one year old 15 pound goofy tom-cat. He has this innocent shocked look on his face all the time like he's constantly discovering new things and is in amazement of everything around him.

He's huge- hard solid muscle and gigantic feet. Goofy and silly and always making me laugh because he's falling off of something, or chasing something that isn't there, or randomly leaping over me while I'm reading a book. He attacks the broom, and the vacuum cleaner, and the other cat, and anything else that moves, dangles, or casts a shadow.

He follows me everywhere and leans on me. I think he gave up on snuggling when he didn't fit under my chin anymore. Now he just stretches out along my side or my leg- and when I say stretches out, I mean he is as long as my whole leg. He dips his head and touches it to my face so that I can give him kisses.

The boy is gigantic. This is a large cat. And he's still growing. He's everywhere all the time. He is ALWAYS in the way.

I have a philosophy about why that is, actually.

This last year in particular I've been having a tough time emotionally. I've been dealing with a lot of really hard situations, and feelings. I got a new day job that is very demanding. I've been recording an album, and composing for a show. My divorce was finalized. Cori-Cat passed away in March. I tried to start dating again. I've had a couple of big scorcher fights with God, and one with my Mom.

I've cried a lot this year.

And Quinn was always in the way. He was always laying next to me and then falling off the bed. He was always wanting me to play with him. He was always standing up on the sink to "help" me put my makeup on in the morning when it was so hard just to put one foot in front of the other. He was always precariously balanced on the side of the tub while I tried to hide underwater [because Cori used to- she taught him that. The difference being, she was more graceful, loved water and didn't have claws...can anyone else see the danger in the situation?]

During all those private moments of suffering, the universe had sent a reminder that I wasn't alone, there is always another perspective, there is always a reason to laugh, there is always a broom to attack...

And that is why Quinn is always in the way.

Day 2 of 30: Road Trips

A good/old friend of mine from college landed this sweet temp job where he literally has to drive around all day taking pictures, and then next week drive the truck he's been using cross country to drop it off here in CA.

Color me jealous? Absolutely. I am a be all - end all - drop dead - Roadtrip JUNKIE.

(for me, Roadtrip is one word- and capitalized.)

Some people [amateurs] believe that a "road trip" (two words) is any trip in a car that lasts longer than 3 hours.

I disagree. Entirely.

Roadtrips (one word) last for DAYS, not hours.

The days and weeks that I have spent on the road of my lifetime have been some of the most memorable in my life. I have seen and experienced incredible things and can say with all first-hand experience that it is, indeed, the journey that is the most worthwhile, and your best experiences are just coming across things that you never knew were there.

Keeping in mind that the first 25 years of my life I lived in Green Bay, here is my log to date:

Green Bay to Powderhorn Colorado - twice - 2 and 3/4 days (arrive around 5pm)
Green Bay to LA via Rt. 66 - three days out, jammed back in 36 hours
Green Bay to San Francisco - one way *sniff* - three days

Shorter:
Green Bay to New Orleans - 18 hours
Green Bay to Orlando - 24 hours
San Francisco to Park City - twice - 12 hours

And the mother of all road trips:
Green Bay to San Francisco via North Dakota, Montana, Washington, and coming back the long way through Utah and Colorado and 1-80 back up. - TWO WEEKS

That one I was with my family, I was still in grade school, and it was during the summer. My parents had the whole thing, and our big blue van, worked out to a science. My dad even had the porta-potty from the camper hooked up in the van for "just in case" moments. [His words: "I've got two gas tanks on this thing, and I'm not stopping."] It's probably why I love Roadtrips as much as I do- to this day my parents STILL drive everywhere.

There is a moment of clarity that one gets after several days on the road. There is a specific type of freedom that you feel. There are surprises around every corner, and sometimes getting lost is the best thing that can ever happen!

If you really want to do Roadtrips right, there are rules:

No hotel rooms. This is cheating, and makes your life way too easy. Keep a cleverly disguised weapon (wooden stake, gigantic flashlight) between the front seats, and sleep in front of the windows of a 24 hour truck stop or restaurant. You can tell the waitresses what you are doing- they are used to travelers, and if they can tell you aren't super-creepy they will keep an eye on you. Lock the doors- always park in the light.

If you need to bathe, you clean up in the gas station bathroom. Handy wipes are your best friend. Heavy rain is the best way to wash your hair ever.

Always have a few towels at the ready

When a good song comes on you MUST roll your windows down.

Lift your feet when you drive over railroad tracks, hold your breath passing graveyards. Make a wish when you cross bridges.

Pull over often and feel free to be in awe of everything...

I have seen the darkest night I have ever experienced on a back country road in Kansas. I have seen an entire field of blooming sunflowers at sunset - yellow as far as the eye could see. I accidentally ended up in Yahoo, Nebraska. I came across a small town restaurant whose outdoor sign boasted "Sunday- Beer to Go!" I've driven Monarch pass in Colorado, and the Million-Dollar-Highway. Seen Mt. Rushmore, the Mitchel Corn Palace, Wall Drug. I've visited and been freaked out by the largest cross in North America [you mean there's a bigger one in South America??!!] I've driven through honest-to-god-no-tourism ghost towns. I've been so high up on a mountain that the tops of the trees below me looked like carpet. I've come over a rise and seen the most breathtaking vistas. I've driven over the Hoover Dam. I've seen Cadillac Ranch. I've visited [and bought the coffee cup] at the very first Truck Stop in the U.S. [Dixie in Illinois]. I even drove through a blizzard to get to the Grand Canyon. It was incredible.

Roadtrips. Help You. To. Be. Present.

I have eaten more home cooked food in more mom-n-pop greasy spoons than I can count.

I ADORE truck stops.

There is NOTHING better in the whole world than being on an open road when a good song comes on- windows down- and you just....are so in the moment.

*sigh*

Of course, no mention of Roadtrips would be complete if I didn't mention my partners-in-crime.... Mel-Belle, who I took my very first "no parents" road trip - we then did it again the next summer and did the Rt. 66 trip before I got married - she was my maid of honor.

Nikki Lee- who reached WAY out of her comfort zone to one-way it with me to SF when I moved out here. [What do you mean we sleep in the car? Where do we shower?]

Paula - who made the phone call "we have to get out of here" and we were in the car to New Orleans two hours later. On the way back we got completely lost in Memphis due to MASSIVE road construction. Ended up in front of Graceland at 2am. That was an amazing night.

The other best part? The people you are going to see. There is something miraculous about having an incredible journey...a journey where afterwards you feel yourself changed...and seeing that smiling face and open arms at the other end of that long long ribbon.

So yeah, Mike, I'm totally jealous.

--but I'll see you next week!

I am going to regret this

But I know I haven't been keeping up with myself let alone anyone else, so here it goes. 30 blogs in 30 days.

Yeah- I'm regretting it already. But it needs to happen. The only way I've ever been able to get anything done is by truly kicking my own ass. And kick it I shall.

*kickkickkick*

Today is November 10th, and until December 10th you get a blog a day. I'm hoping during that time to also get the website updated with some new fun stuff as well. Or at least some more recent stuff.

Okay- I've been off the map for a while because I was going through a divorce.

J and I are good friends so you don't have to do the sad head tilt and say "aww, i'm so sorry" But regardless, it was a major life change and readjusting has been it's own challenge along with all the other obstacles that life likes to toss at you.
Or throw.
Or hurl.
(Cleverly disguised as "growth oppertunities")

The whole process took two years. During which I dated the wrong guy. And when I say the wrong guy I mean WHOAH!! the WRONG guy.

Drank.Lied. Cheated. Stole. Drank. Drank. Drank. Then lied more and cheated, then lied about cheating, then stole and lied about stealing. And cheating. Sometimes he even lied about drinking, which was a nice way to mix it up.

My life was a country and western album. I was that girl.

Sad.

But un-boring lives are fodder for great music, right?

Well, you'll be happy to know that I am NOT switching to the country genre....yet (but I wouldn't put anything past me) instead I have taken this time to discover ME.

So now you get to meet her too.

So hi! Nice to meet you. My name is Kat and I've been on a hell of a journey for the last (almost) three years.

This is me, and this is where my art comes from.

30 blogs in 30 days... 29 to go.