Kat Downs

Evolve

2009-10-09T13:53:00.000-07:00

This whole year has been one giant experimentation for me. I've finally learned to stop editing my creativity and just let myself and my imagination go. I've investigated marketing, and how it works and what effects it has on me. I've spent hours that would add into days learning to disregard everything I've learned so far so that I can look at the world - my world - through clean un-filtered eyes.

So that I can hear what's in my head, and let it come out as is - no editing.

Seems simple. Really really not. I'm envious of the people (several of which are friends of mine) who seem to have been born never questioning whether they would be able to stand on their own. Not me! God bless 'em, my family is much more conservative and I was raised being told that I could only go so far before I would either need my family or a man to take care of me.

They meant well. I have no grudge, but that was just about the worst advice you can give to an Indigo Artist. I've been working hard to un-learn that little piece of advice (along with many others) so that I could really grow and be self-dependant. So that I wouldn't have to wait on others to get where I want to be. (Did I mention that I love my therapist?)

So - I've learned a lot. I've learned that I don't fit in one single genre. I like all of them. So I'm going to write in all of them, and play in all of them. I'm even inventing some new ones. And blending others together. And I love it. (recordings coming very soon)

I'm writing performance art pieces. I'm drawing and painting and journaling. I'm involved in theater projects. Lately I've been dressing like a girl toy soldier to play the piccolo in a rock opera inspired by Burning Man. And I love it.

I've learned that there are a lot of thing that exist in the "music industry" that I really don't like at all. I don't like the distance that most artists have from their fans. I get the seclusion thing - and I go through major bouts where I don't want to really talk to anyone as well (the cocoon before the revelation - just finished one.) ... but I'd like to think that if someone writes something that inspires me, and I want to ask them about it, that I could. In some cases you can... but rarely. I don't like that musicians are often placed on top of pillars. I don't like going to concerts in arenas. I don't like art that you feel you can look at but never touch.

And I'm still figuring it out. Still having new revelations every day. Still coming to realize a lot about the world, music, art, feelings, spirituality, love, body, earth, soul... and realizing that I can re-create, re-mix and re-organize all of these things in whatever way I need to. Some days it's tough, and it feels too big and scary, but I'm enjoying seeing the world in a way I've never seen it before.

I know it's marketing 101 to have a message, and present that message clearly. I guess I've finally figured mine out:

EVOLVE

That feels right. Has a nice ring to it... :)

The Movers, The Shakers

2009-06-12T12:07:00.001-07:00

The times they are a'changing. Rapidly.

I'm in the middle of moving, which is never fun. Even though I'm moving from one neighborhood in San Francisco to another it's a pain. I am not a car owner, so I am dependent on public transportation, rentals, friends and my own feet.

A dear friend of mine is gifting me a bike this weekend - I'm going to become a bike rider! How exciting!

As most of you probably remember - I currently live in the Tenderloin in San Francisco. It's a "raw" and "urban" neighborhood, most commonly described as; "the worst neighborhood in San Francisco". It's filthy and noisy. The streets are almost always busy- people out and about - homeless, adicts, runaways and dealers. I quote my ex-husband: "I think the pee-smell is my favorite".

Last week just walking from my apartment to the corner store and back I saw two drug deals, a tranny hooker and her pimp arguing, a homeless man who had wet himself, and one guy flashed his junk at me.

"These are the people in my neighborhood - in my neighborhood - in my neigh -bor-hood - OH..."

That was after the huge underground explosion that erupted two blocks away.

I'm a tough chick. I think 3.5 years in The Loin has earned me my street cred - but seriously, I'm over it.

I love my apartment. I love how centrally located I am. I love the local dive bars. I love the $2 shiraz my corner store sells. (Might have to pick up a case of that before I go)

But I hate feeling under attack every time I step out of my front door. I hate being treated like an object simply because I have breasts. I hate having to wear earphones to block the sound of the comments yelled at you on the street. I hate the sadness. I hate the hopelessness of the place. I hate seeing people getting sick on the sidewalk, or going to the bathroom between cars because they have no other place to go.

"They're the people that you meet, as you're walking down the street -
They're the people that you meet-

each

DAY!"

I do realize though, why I needed to live there. When I started my life over, I really needed to start it all the way over. I needed to start at the bottom and prove to myself that I could work my way up. It's taken me a while. Quite a while, to come to grips with my past. Some days are better than others.

But I'm leaving The Loin - and I feel like I've worked hard to do exactly that. And I feel like I've earned this new life - with the merit badges to prove it.

My new neighborhood is in Noe Valley. It's clean, fresh, and safe. My place has a lovely patio surrounded by trees and jasmine vines. Birds chirp in the morning. It's quiet. My kitties have plenty of room to run around. I have a huge kitchen I already love cooking in even without all of my supplies there yet. Plants grow under all of the trees because the ammonia of too much urine doesn't kill them. People say hi to you on the street and they aren't asking for money. No one is shooting up heroin or smoking crack. I haven't seen any prostitutes.

I admit - I feel a bit out of my element, but I think I can get used to it!

Beginning of the End

2009-04-13T13:55:00.000-07:00

It's been an odd journey for the last week - my body has been reacting in ways I was not expecting.

With the addition of my new partner at the day job and my unwillingness to book anything new to my schedule I have suddenly found a reasonable amount of work on my plate (as opposed to the endless overflowing disaster) and with it - an acute awareness of how exhausted I am.

Five months of non-stop work during which I did the jobs of four people from 9-6, then went off to rock opera rehearsals from 6:30-11, recorded every weekend, worked as a sub for a resident building manager, went to therapy, started performing the rock opera, met a boy, started falling for him, started writing another album...

Oh - and experiencing a Spiritual Emergence. We can't forget that. (Funny that I'm so used to it now that I do sometimes...)

I'm tired. 5 months of exhaustion is running out of me like water. And in this weakened state I'm actually better equipped to just let the changes of my SE take me instead of fighting them tooth and nail.

This is the beginning of the end... the rebirth. I can tell because I feel like I'm in a deep state of mourning. I can tell because all of my circumstances have aligned themselves perfectly to help me through this. My body is to tired to fight - I am surrounded by people who love me - the issues that are at the forefront of my mind are the "big ones".

My relationship with God.
My life's calling.
The person I am - instead of the person I'm pretending to be

You know - the really superficial stuff. (ha ha ha ha .... *sigh*)

I had coffee with a wonderful old friend on Friday, who is going through a journey of his own. The universe constantly ending him up in the same situation over and over again until he learns the lesson.

I know that feeling all too well - I think we all do.

And I told him what I always tell myself - the During is going to suck, but the Afterwards is worth it. And you only need to take that journey once. Once you've done it, it's done. On to the next journey.

And I reflected on some Tennyson:

- you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil.
Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends.
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,--
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's to the beginning of the end. And to everyone out there - we're all on journeys, and there's no reason for us to feel alone.

Let's travel together.

It's all coming together...

2009-03-30T15:49:00.000-07:00

Image.

Image is, to me, a cruel word. I'm referring specifically to definition number 8

Here:

im⋅age

noun, verb, -aged, -ag⋅ing. –noun

8. the general or public perception of a company, public figure, etc., esp. as achieved by careful calculation aimed at creating widespread goodwill.

All is well and good unless you get so preoccupied by the image that you stop being true to the driving force behind it.

That's what I did. I got so caught up in what "genre" I fit in. I got caught up in what did and didn't "sound" like me. I knew I didn't really fit into any of these pre-existing labels, so I tried to force myself. In short- I got so caught up in the marketing, that the music suffered. It's one of those well-duh-the-light-just-went-on type of moments. One where I suddenly realized - you don't have to edit your art to fit into an image. That there is really no reason for me to be consistent if what comes out of me is not consistent.

And NOTHING that comes out of me is consistent. Ever. Or, rarely anyway.

Putting together the song list for Head of Revelations - my first album - (which I call the Blue Album) took the work of about three people. Because my writing is so SO eclectic it seemed impossible to me to put together a work that was comprehensive. We really had to stretch to do so.

My second album- which is currently on hold until I figure out how I feel about it - is way more rock music - almost all the tunes are upbeat and are recorded with a full band. All the recording is done. It needs final engineering and mastering and it would be finished. Due to my big "metamorphosis" that I'm going through right now, I'm not even sure I want to release it or just scrap the whole thing.

It is a whole year's worth of work though. I dunno - I'm still working that one out.

I digress.

Image. I'm not going to worry about that anymore. I release it to the universe... I don't have to choose between folk OR rock OR country OR jazz OR Broadway OR classical... I am all of them. I don't have to look wholesome OR sexy, OR comical, OR elegant because I am all of them. I don't always have to play with a full band. I don't always have to play solo. I don't always have to play an instrument - or play the same instrument. I don't always have to write words to my songs. I don't always have to write music. I can dress in concert black and play punk music if that's what feels right. And the next night I can look like a hippie and perform a classical flute sonata.

I am all of these things.

Why limit myself??

Geeze- I'm all giddy now. The sky is the limit....

The Continuing Saga...a.k.a. "Why I Don't Take Acid" by: Kat Downs

2009-03-26T14:24:00.000-07:00

This morning again I was unable to wake up - but in a different way.

I was still dreaming. My eyes were open. I was responding to SAS talking to me - but I was still dreaming. If I closed my eyes there it was - as plain as a painting on the wall. One dream after another after another after another. As if I'm literally up and walking around in a constant state of R.E.M.

It's now 2:30 in the afternoon and it's still happening. I am up, talking, typing, answering the phone, answering questions, discussing and even teaching (intern) while I'm dreaming the whole time. I am disassociated and sleepy, but functioning.

I am actually living two separate realities simultaneously. (and I'm not on drugs)

This is the first time that I have EVER had to call my therapist outside of a session.

And I quote: "You are not having a psychotic break."

Were there ever more beautiful words expressed in the English language? I practically cried from relief.

She went on to explain that what I'm experiencing is the spontaneous opening of my 6th Chakra. Meaning, my third eye just opened and is blinking happily in the light of day.

I have never really paid attention to weather or not my chakras were opening in order or not- I guess in retrospect they are. Which means that after I grow accustomed to this new state of mind, there's only one chakra left....

And that's the big one.

Man, Steve's been busy this week.

The Girl: Divided

2009-03-25T10:07:00.000-07:00

I woke this morning early and then laid there.

Just laid their staring in one direction thinking very little. "Katatonic" one might say (ha ha ha).

And I couldn't move. The alarm went off again and again - and I just laid there staring straight ahead. Nothing could make me move. I didn't care if I was late - I didn't care if I got the evil eye at work. I just - couldn't - move.

But I was also watching myself do this. Simultaneously.

I find this division of consciousness fascinating. While one part of me lays their catatonic, the other part of me notices that this is a unique situation. That part of me sits back and watches - what's going to happen next? It analyzes this portion of me that's evolving the way I imagine a nature photographer might follow a subject. Watching- recording - but never interrupting.

What is she doing now?
Why is she doing it?
What is she going to do next?

Was I always able to do this and not aware of it, or is this a new level of consciousness for me?

It's an odd head space to be in. I feel like more than one - the part of me that gets up and goes through my routines and smiles, shakes hands, and acts human all day - and the other part of me that twitches, and cries, and speaks gibberish. That part of me is unpredictable - and therefore, in my mind, dangerous.

I haven't really talked about this until now because I was worried that people might treat me strangely, or think I was unreliable or .... who even knows what I thought. I don't care anymore (see yesterdays post)

I keep telling my therapist and everyone else that I'm completely psychotic, and they all keep telling me that I'm not. Especially my therapist.

Every day an adventure, i guess.

Perspective

2009-03-24T11:59:00.000-07:00

Things they are-a-changing.

My kundalini symptoms have been out of control for the last few days. I'm experiencing temperature fluctuations, earthquakes, tremors, nausea, and "buzzing" which is what I call the sensation of WAY too much energy racing around my body - like being electrocuted mixed with a panic attack.

Special.

The metaphorical snake that's crawling up my spine is alive and well (I've named him Steve)- he's happily chewing his way through my chakras and thusly forcing me to face all of my inner demons face first.

Needless to say- I'm a bit fragile.

Number one thing I'm noticing this time around (this is year three of this madness) is that I'm actually conscious of my change of perspective. I am conscious that it's evolving - that I'm in the middle of it- that my full perspective isn't in focus yet.

I'm actually WATCHING it evolve.

One thing that already is coming into focus is the release of The Should's.

I *should* clean my house
I *should* be more organized
I *should* exercise more
I *should* be recording more
I *should* sound more like other people
I *should*
I *should*
I *should*....

I've been pretty good for the past bit at letting go of some of The Should's - but it was conscious and reluctant. It was a struggle to let them go and rise above.

Now I WANT to let them go.

It's as if I've gotten to a point where I just stopped caring. For example - here I am in swirly kundalini land- the earth is buckling beneath me, so nauseous that I have to pick my sandwich apart to only eat the bread, energy raging so intensely that I actually feel manic - suddenly my brain says "You SHOULD re-organize your entire song list alphabetically."

Fuck you. No.

Then the part of my brain that is still sane says "WHAT? Did you just say no? You've never done THAT before!" and does a little dance.

There it is - personal growth. Right before my very eyes. Fascinating.

I'm also aware that I'm in a destructive mode - everything is breaking down or away and I'm glad to see it go. I'm curious to see what will come out of the ashes. I'm curious to see what's going to come out of me - if anything will come out of me - or if the music will die entirely and I'll find some other release. Part of me thinks it would be fascinating to finish up this entire process only to discover that I'm actually exactly who my family told me I was all along.

But I doubt it.

Self Portrait of the Artist at the Close of the Year

2008-12-26T22:58:00.000-08:00

366 days. 4,392 hours. Countless laughter. Countless tears. 3 journals. 1 new tattoo. 5 new songs. 1 album recorded (8 tracks, due out early 2009).

1 orange fluffy best friend died.

152 arguments with the universe.
[universe 152, Kat 0 ]

A bit stronger.
A bit wiser.
A bit quieter.

Divorce final. Quit smoking. Experienced spontaneous kundalini. Again. Started running. Continued allergy shots. Started dating. Stopped dating. Discovered a secret love of Dave Matthews. Became alarmingly self aware. Experienced endless fucking growth opportunities. Discovered the "right click spell check" trick. Upgraded to phone that goes online and reads email.

The year where the lyrics by Vega-4 made WAY too much sense:

"Life
Is Beautiful.
But it's complicated
And we barely make it..."

Discovered Facebook (addicted) and Twitter (addicted - "thekatdowns" look me up). Finally actually understood that being an artist is actually a good thing. Continued working at a circus. Had a few major "almosts". Met a few celebrities. Composed the score for a play. 1 Sparrows Point reunion show. Rediscovered the woods.

Burst Into:

1. Tears
2. Song
3. Pieces

Took a week off and didn't leave the house. Great birthday party. 3 unfinished self-help books. Was fooled into reading Twilight. Dropped phone in ocean. Saw several old friends. Watched the economy crash. Friends laid off. Boss laid off. Bows on cats. Own dress pants. Hate wearing dress pants... so so much. Got a tall wooden chair- made a world of difference. Started playing acoustic gigs again. Countless psychotic dreams.

Therapy.

Blogging. Fuzzy socks. Homemade bread.

Glad it's almost over.

Hands Hands Hands

2008-11-29T17:31:00.000-08:00

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...

2008-11-28T11:41:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-22T22:48:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-21T15:49:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-20T20:44:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-18T20:43:00.002-08:00

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

2008-11-18T20:43:00.001-08:00

Was a personal day.

The End.

Day 7: Coulda Woulda Shoulda

2008-11-16T19:31:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-16T19:27:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-14T14:35:00.001-08:00

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

2008-11-13T11:36:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-12T15:49:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-11T14:45:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-10T23:07:00.001-08:00

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.

Report Day

2008-05-19T12:27:00.000-07:00

I am more myself today than I have been in ages, it feels. Almost like I'm falling into a new routine.

Report Day,
Dinner with Lance Day,
Therapy Day,
Rehearsal Day,
Friday,
Saturday,
Bacon Day.

I have gotten to a point where I am trusting the Universe more. It's easier for me to let go and trust that things are happening for my betterment instead of fighting every single change... which, in my position, is really just ridiculous since everything about/in/around me changes drastically every 48 hours or so.

I have sort of "cleaned house" emotionally. I've gotten rid of the things that weigh me down, the feelings that made me feel weak and heavy. I do a lot of journaling (I mean more than usual) and I spend my free moments carefully.

As have most things- on Friday I spontaneously experienced 3 hours of true peace. All of my "episodes" happen spontaneously- and of course, never when I want them to. It's in the middle of a busy day at the office, or while I'm stuck on the bus, or when I have a date, or a rehearsal. I'm glad that among the hard ones, there are now pleasant ones- such as the peace. It was amazing, really. Like the best high I have ever experienced. Incredible.

I suppose you would like to hear about music, huh? Well, the group went up to the Delta to record the last of my piano tracks- which really brought the whole experience full circle for all of us. So, the instrumentation tracks are all complete- vocals I'll start recording next weekend.

We have a gig coming up June 5, which will be featuring our new backup singer, Karen Hauben. Feel free to bring her flowers! I'll be sending out an email with the details later this week.

The next album is already written, so as soon as the vocal tracks are completed for Delta Do-Over, the next recording session begins. When the spirit moves you, it moves you!

comments? questions?
blog[at]katdowns[dot]com

Private Earthquakes, Sunburn, etc...

2008-04-14T22:58:00.000-07:00

And what a trip I've been on in the last few weeks/months/years these last collection of hours seems to be the strangest to date. The universe has been speaking up pretty loudly as of late- screaming, as it were. Existential revelations, breakdowns, lots of tears, lots of gut-wrenching laughter, sleep like I'm dead, don't sleep at all, up, down, sideways....worth it as long as the music's good, right?

Here's a few (strange) moments from me:

Quinn, the miracle kitten (or Master Quinn, as I call him) has turned from a one-pound-wonder into a whopping 13 pound kitten-of-doom. Don't let his size fool you, he's still kitten through and through chasing that tail all and every day, racing around chasing things that aren't there. The best part is he really IS my cat- the more energy I have, the more he feeds off of it- the bad side being, when the energy won't ground and I'm a live wire at 4 in the morning guess who's launching off the piano and using the bed as a trampoline? You got it. Sorry neighbors, he looked so innocent when I brought him home...

So J and I are finally wrapping up the last ends to finalize the divorce. Funny- now that we're not married anymore we get along just fine. (obviously much better as friends) While we wait at the mail store to get our paperwork notarized, I have a private earthquake so intense that I actually fall down. Awesome. Just standing there one second, then on my butt. Beautiful. Classy. I'm the epitome of all that is graceful and elegant. Not that I'm surprised, as silly as we were being about it, (pretty silly- but we never had a problem making each other laugh) divorce is still a pretty big f-n deal. No wonder the earth was shaking a bit.
There was a bit of a wait to get a notary, one of the guys behind the counter says "do you want a beer or a soda while you are waiting?" So playing along, I reply in total deadpan: "You know man, a beer would be great." He goes in the back and wouldn't you believe it- sure as shit he actually walks out and hands me an open bottle of beer.

Best. Mail store. Ever.

J and I shared it and actually polished it off before we even had our turn at the counter. I think I'm going to go back there tomorrow.

Sunday the universe took me on a total trip. I was heading back from recording when this image of Pier 7 completely filled my head. "Okay," I think, "I'm game." So I get off BART at the Embarcadero and walk over to Pier 7. I head down the wooden pier, which for those of you not familiar with SF was built to be covered in fog and walked down wearing a trench coat. This, however, was the middle of a sunny day. When I reached the very end, I reached out my hand and touched the railing to lean on it and look at the water- the instant my hand touched the brass, The Logical Song by Supertramp came on my iPod. I started to chuckle- the lyrics are pretty much my mantra as of the last few months:

" When I was young
It seemed that life was so wonderful
A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical
And all the birds in the trees
Well they'd be singing so happily
Oh joyfully, oh playfully watching me
But then they sent me away
To teach me how to be sensible
Logical, oh responsible, practical
And they showed me a world
Where I could be so dependable
Oh clinical, oh intellectual, cynical"

I stared out at the water - "I'm bigger than you!" it said. "Yes, yes, I remember" I told it.
The nice part about the water is that it reminds you that you are small, and your problems are small- and suddenly everything seems so manageable.

I sat down to write in my journal, and a ladybug landed on my hand.

And for the first time in ages, I was able to listen... really listen. Like the universe was talking to me in full sentences, and I didn't have to guess what it was saying.

We went for a walk- the universe and me. It was good. I got a sunburn.

Recording is showing progress. Bud has one song left and the drums are DONE- SUCKKA!! Progress makes me giddy. Also, hired a new backup singer who I have adopted, so you will be seeing more of her soon.

J-girl and I went to the ballet a few days after Cori-cat died. She had to yell at me to get me out of the house (God bless her) The Monte Carlo Ballet was ASTOUNDING. I mean BAD ASS. I mean LIFE ALTERING. I... I just...I mean....really damn good.

And what did I learn? That if I just listen things aren't so scary. That music will talk to you if you let it. That friends will tough love you at the right time. That earthquakes happen for a reason. That baby steps do eventually get you somewhere. That going slowly and taking a walk with the universe is the way it should be.

--k

comments? questions?
blog[at]katdowns[dot]com

Darling Cori-Cat

2008-03-31T22:41:00.000-07:00

At 5:30pm on Sunday March 30, 2008, my darling Cori-cat went to sleep.

I realize more about my relationship with her now- now, while I'm mourning with my cheeks all burned with saltwater and my body feels thick and heavy. I am grieving the loss of my friend.

Pets are your silent partners in crime. They live in your home and see all the secret behavior that you would never share with someone who spoke. They are there for every major event of your life. You forget, sometimes, when you get that call that lets you know that a loved one is sick that your cat was sitting next to you. Or that when you came home crying from a horrid breakup that your cat slept next to you on the pillow. You forget because they are ALWAYS there.

Until they aren't there anymore.

Then you notice it a lot.

I brought Cori-Cat home with me when I was drunk at college. She was an itty-bitty orange kitten with HUGE eyes. Who could resist her? Not I! College housing be damned- that was my cat.

I'd never had a cat before, so getting to know her was challenging. She had been a farm cat, so she was sick when I got her. I remember her somehow finding a way up onto the top bunk where she would sleep next to my head. She would purr and purr and purr until she would take a deep breath and sigh- her "I'm asleep" noise. Then I would fall asleep too.

She was there through several bad boyfriends/breakups. Then she sat in my lap when I called my mom to tell her that a boy said he loved me. I kissed her goodbye when I left to go to the church to get married, and I ran to see her when I got back from my honeymoon. She moved across country with me. She laid next to me through a wicked depression. She sat on the piano when I wrote my first song. I asked her to wish me luck when I left the house to play my first gig. When my marriage started to fall apart and I was crying a lot she actually started crawling under the covers to sleep next to me- which she had never done before. She laid right on top of my head the first night I slept in my new apartment after I left my husband. She watched me struggle to support myself, work my way up the ladder, and finally get my dream day-job. She got wet food on major holidays and wore a bow for Christmas. She would always try to climb on the piano when I played, and HATED when I sang.

I shared my whole life with this cat- this silent friend who slept in my bed, and ate my food, and listened to every private phone conversation.

She LOVED water. Loved it. Couldn't get enough of it. She was soaking wet about 75% of the time. She would knock over your drink in a second if you didn't have your hand on it. She would grab food off of your plate if you weren't looking. She attempted to wake me up before my alarm every single day. She would push me off of my pillow while I was sleeping so she could have it to herself. She would lay directly on whatever I was working on. She would push every limit, every rule, and every line to the point of driving you nuts. She never got enough scratching, petting or kisses. If you walked in the apartment you belonged to her- no questions asked- you were her new favorite and you had to pay homage to her immediately. If you weren't paying attention to her she was climbing on you, licking you, biting you, or trying to trip you. She drove me NUTS.

And I adored her.

When the vet said she was too far gone... I held her in my arms, and I remembered bringing that little kitten home in the middle of the night. And the roller coaster that we'd been through. And my God- how do you say good bye to that?

We buried her and L & E's house.

I've been having a hard time sleeping- I keep thinking I hear her purring and I wake up.

--k

questions? comments?
blog[at]katdowns[dot]com

Ran Away to Alaska

2006-07-15T23:33:00.000-07:00

Black cars. Airplanes. Early mornings. Red wine. Water, water everywhere. Borrowed scarves. Tears. God. Love. Families. Music. Celebrities. Pirates. Bad haircuts. Auctions. Topaz. Laughter. Life vests. Journal writing. Snow. Hot tubs. Staterooms are smaller than they sound. Marketplace. Roaming calls. Tattoo dreams. Bunk beds. Laser show. Piano bar. Striped towels. Stardust Theatre. Dress in layers. Mountains. Dusk all night. Pictures. Tourist Traps. Bald Eagles. Hiking in flip flops. Water slides. Glaciers. Attacked by a Raven. Park Rangers. Rosie O'Donnell. Sweaters. Blue ice. Diet Coke with Lime(only a little ice). Baseball hats. Postcards. Carosel Bar. Big Ass Boat. Juneau. Long nails. Sunglasses. Deck chairs. Red Dog Saloon. Up all night. Angela Shelton. The Spinniker. Towel creatures. Pillow mints. Interpretive dance. Big issues. Dessert. Fabulous shoes. Broadway Belters. Gatsby's. Keepsakes. World Cup soccer. Ellen Lauper. Tacky carpet. Adoption. Peace of mind. 12 to 17 ft. waves. "Do you have your card with you?". Raffles. Plans. Versailes. Egg on the sleeve. Skagway. Deck 13. "This is Simon, your cruise director". Life path. Totem poles. Capitol Building. Stained glass. Whales. Blue blankets. Port side. "Where's Celine Dion when you need her?". The Chapel. Jane-the-networker. Glacier Bay National Park. Fourth of July. Fake candles. Green water bottles. Champaigne. Audra McDonald. Thong underwear. Inspiration. Beauty. Motion. Sunrise. Snoring. Crossword puzzles. Ya-Ya's. Brian Nash. Praying. Tampons. Nail polish. Ta-ta-ta. Ginger tea. Ginger candy. Ginger pills. Fishing boats. Sapphire Princess. Life boat drill. Shuffleboard. The Red Lion Pub. Ketchikan. Amber. Shopping. "Oooh, Pretty!". Dancing. Big Moon. Sierra Club photos. The Norweigian Star. Bored teenagers. Driftwood. Sea planes. Posiden Adventure. Free stuff. "Gay is OK". Under Tuscan Sun. Singles events. Jason Stuart. Giant chess. Helipad. Small water glasses. StarBar. Reservations. Internet .75 a minute. Kelly and Greg. Coffee Bar. Prom photos. Atrium. Wind. Fresh air. Perfume testing. Alcohol tasting. The Freestyle Daily. Set your clock forward. Canada. Someones going swimming. Passports. 1811. Where are all the Eskimos? Dress as your state. Friends. "Bi-bi-bi I'm bi!". Nap. One pillow each. Sanitizer. Cindi Lauper. A-mah-zing. Big Gay Vaccum. Havana Club. Performing. Melting. Merging. Growing. Terrifying Cher Videos. "I think we just lost Seth". Speedo-guy. Tipping the Velvet. BBQ. Multiple Entrees. Aqua. No direction on a boat. "Glaciers. Behold their majesty...". Jay and his mom. R Family. Disposible cameras. Victoria. Folk Festival. North Star. Direction. Nautical Miles.

We hope you had a "smashing" time.

Just for Fun

2006-04-19T18:47:00.000-07:00

You Are Gonzo the Great

"Is something burning in here? Oh, it's just me."
You're a total nutball who will do anything for attention.
The first to take a dare, you'll pull almost any stunt.
You're one weird looking creature, but your chickens don't mind!

The Muppet Personality Test

From the Black Notebook of Doom vol. 1

2006-04-18T12:25:00.000-07:00

Cleo

Green.
He said Tuesday's Green and it saved my life
He said Summer's dead
But she's moving many directions

There's a secret here
Hidden in calculations
When it's perfectly clear
You'll leave me hanging

What a selfish beast I am, I thought
Am I mistaken
But it's a selfish kind of day
He said the season's changed
And he's looking for any suggestions

There's a secret here
Hidden in calculations
When it's perfectly clear
You'll leave me hanging

What's Cleo got that I ain't got
Your hands are shaking
What's Cleo got that I ain't got
I think my mind is racing
While she
Follows Me.

To the Searchlight Market
For a magic bag
Like it's a mission from God
He said the futures clear
What he's lacking is merely conviction

There's a secret here
Hidden in calculations
When it's perfectly clear
You'll leave me hanging

So what's Cleo got that I ain't got
My hands are shaking
What's Cleo got that I ain't got
I guess the tides are changing
While she
Follows Me.

copyright 2005 Kat Downs

questions, comments ~~ blog[at]katdowns[dot]com ~~

We Be on TV

2006-04-13T22:26:00.000-07:00

We go in Tuesday from 4-6 to record our session for San Francisco Sound on Comcast cable channel 11.

Totally appropriate, I have a horrible cold and my allergies are killing me! Yay!! Tonights rehearsal was rough- vocally speaking. I am totally confident that I can pull it together by Tuesday though, or at least I hope I can. If not, all I can do is pray that the adrenaline and fear kick in to save me.

We have a set of 6 songs prepared- the best songs we have and we are ready to head into the studio and lay down a killer performance. I'm excited for this oppertunity, as is the rest of the band. All the strings that had to be pulled with the day-jobbers to get out early and get to this gig.

Coming home from rehearsal tonight took a bit longer because of some medical emergency on the BART. Thank goodness I had a good book and some edemame in my purse. Yes- I had edemame in my purse. Laugh all you want- I'm not hungry, am I?

Anyway, walking through this neighborhood at night is always a trip. There are always a lot of people around. Nightime people of course. There is some unofficial street people market about a block and a half down from where I live- at all hours there are people with wears spread out on the sidewalk- one "salesperson" right next to another. Usually on a blanket of some sort- dirty clothes for sale, nicely folded. Odd assortments of things. Today one guy was selling one pair of childrens shoes, a single tarnished silver candlestick, and a bag of bagels.

They gather their stuff up an pretend they are leaving when the cops drive by- I have no idea why. Apparently that sort of thing isn't allowed. One time I saw a cop standing on the sidewalk waiting for everyone to pack up and disperse. They were back five minutes after he left though.

As freaky as it sounds, I'm starting to find comfort in that random crowd of miscreants. Maybe because I know when I hit that crowd I'm only a block from home. Maybe because they recognize me at this point and leave me alone. (Being the only blonde around here, I'm hard to miss) There's something strangely poetic about it that I just can't put my finger on yet.

Don't worry- I'll figure it out.

The piano is here now. It fits in my new place like it was meant to be here. Of course, I'm still rearranging all the other stuff that had to come here as well. Plus then I got horribly ill, and energy for cleaning and re-arranging is just no where to be found. I played it today for the first time- it's been here since Saturday and I just couldn't play it. It looks beautiful there...but...I guess I just needed time to adjust. Just to let it settle in. This is all there is now. This is my place. And everything is here.

I digress....

We're going to be on TV- did I mention that earlier? I'm pretty sure I did. I'll let you all know when the air date is.

You bet I will.

~~questions, comments - blog[at]katdowns[dot]com ~~

Hands Off My Pinot

2006-04-07T11:56:00.000-07:00

I need to vent for a moment about my squatter.

I moved into my new apartment at the beginning of February. On the 13th a close friend of mine got kicked out of his apartment and I was super-nice enough to let him come and crash with me until he found a new place. I can understand needing time to get your stuff in order. Lord knows I do.

But here we are a month and a half later- and yes, he's been trying. And yes, he found another place to crash so will be out of here today or tomorrow, but this morning was the final straw.

He works a late shift- gets home around 3:30 or 4 am. Usually when he comes home he has a few drinks and listens to some tunes before he goes to bed. That's fine, I can live with that.

But this evening- we were out of wine. I know, because I wanted a glass myself- but when I looked at the wine rack I realized I only had my two bottles I was saving left. There was no way I was going to bust into one of those bad boys- so I passed on the wine and had some chocolate ice cream instead.

When he got home, I woke up. I had to use the bathroom, and as I walked past him I noticed he was drinking a glass of wine- and I thought to myself- cool! Maybe he brought a few bottles home or something. I walk into the kitchen to discover not a new bottle of wine- but that he had opened one of my bottles I was saving for special. My beautiful Bernardus 2001 Pinot Noir that I bought in Carmel.

I
Was
LIVID

That was a memory wine. One that you buy on a special trip or occasion- and a few years into the future after it ages a bit more you open that bottle, you sit back, and you remember exactly where you were when you bought it. You remember the good times- and you sip and you think - ahhhh.

Well, not any more. GONE. Not only had he opened the bottle. He drank 3/4 of it. It was almost gone by the time I even noticed.

We had words.

So this goes out to you:

Darlin, it's been fun. But that was the last freaking straw. I was good enough to take you in when you had nowhere else to go. I took you in when I needed my own space, when I have been going through all my own crap and dealing with the universe hitting me with everything it's got. I put up with the late nights- the way you coming home in the middle of the night messes with my sleep schedule, the way you drink all my booze and eat all my food. I appreciate you cooking, and cleaning out the litter box for me.

But for the love of God and all that is holy-

Keep your hands off my Pinot.

You're outta here.

~~questions, comments - blog[at]katdowns[dot]com ~~

Tidbits With No Real Direction

2006-04-04T00:01:00.000-07:00

I've been told that I don't blog enough- so for the three of you that read this all the time-

--this one's for you.--

I don't really have anything interesting to say, so this is just a collection of strange things that have happened to me in the past few weeks.

~It has rained everyday for the past 27 days. Not all day-everyday, but at least once a day. The sun actually came out for a bit on Saturday after it rained in the morning, but then it rained again yesterday and today. Tomorrow we are supposed to have a day off (I don't believe it) but then two more weeks of rain. Lots of rain. Gads of rain. So much rain that everything is perpetually wet. Your jacket, your pants, your bag...wet. Hair? Wet. Shoes? Wet. Groceries? Wet.

Wet
Wet
Wet

Some strange guy with a muti-colored umbrella stopped me on the street the other day and said "Did you know that we haven't had this much rain since right before the big earthquake?"

Great.

~ I was waiting for the bus to get to a rehearsal when random guy walks up and starts talking to me. He complains about how everything is wet. I can tell he's homeless, but he doesn't seem to be on the drugs, so I don't mind talking to him. (i hate talking to people on the drugs) He asks me if I'm coming home from work- I say no, this is my two weeks off and we get to talking about my day job and what I do. I tell him the God's honest truth- I'm a telemarketer (insert boo's and hisses here) He asks me how long I've been doing it, I say 3 years. He asks me if I like it. Before he even finishes pronouncing the last sylable I say NO. He says, really? You know a lot of people don't have jobs. I say that i realize that and I'm thankful for my job and I'm good at it, but no, I don't like it.

I realize that I'm complaining to a homeless guy about my job. Nice Kat, real nice. Not one of my most high quality moments.

~ I had to get rid of my music studio. It was getting too expensive and I just wasn't making it over there enough for it to be worthwhile anymore. I'm very sad about it, but at the same time I'm looking forward to my apartment becoming a music studio with a bed in it. Literally. Having my piano in here is going to take up the last of my free space. I'm hoping it will fit in the one free spot on the wall, or it's going to be in the middle of the floor. Good thing K. talked me out of bringing in that table and chairs when I moved in here. Table and chairs- what was I thinking? What the hell would I ever use those for?

~ Had an amazingly violent week about two weeks ago. In a 7 day period I was present for a shooting (not in my neighborhood. People in my neighborhood can't afford guns) I witnessed a woman being assaulted, was present for the aftermath of a huge fire, and a massive demonstration. Suprisingly enough I never felt like I was in danger or being warned. It was more like this stuff was happening around me and I was simply an observer. I had no trouble sleeping- had no nightmares. It was a little strange being interviewed by a homicide detective, but since I didn't see anything all that helpful anyway when I was finished it was kinda over and done. My therapist said I had seen more of the "dark side of the universe" in one week than most people see in their entire lives. My take? Hey Universe- got it. Moving on....

~ I'm an Aunt again. Welcome Aubrey Adeline!! Born today actually. That's my newest bit of news. Yay!! Babies are great! Especially when they aren't mine!! Congrats to the new parents!!

~ The Contra Costa Songwriters Project has released it's first CD. I am honored to be featured. Not to lay out the street lingo too heavy (but I do live in the ghetto now, so it's technically acceptable) Total Props go out to my girl Ange for a job well done. The cd is fantastic! The art is incredible, the artist lineup is to die for, and the song order just plays like it was born that way. Great job Ange!!! Thanks for all your hard work. All y'all should pick up one of these disks- check it out at http://www.ccsongs.com

~Working on a new song with the band- and a new band page for the website, and a logo for the band with the new name. Lots of working. We're getting there!

~ I'm honestly asking for ideas about blogs. I'd write a lot more often if people actually asked me stuff. :) So don't be shy.

questions, comments: blog[at}katdowns{dot}com

Waiting for Art to Heal

2006-02-11T12:35:00.000-08:00

This year (of our Lord) 2006 is already shaping up to be a doozy.

And it's only February. dang.

Which makes me think of this joke my producer told me while we were working on my album:

Bill: "Here's a joke for you. How do you make God laugh?"
Me: "I don't know, Bill. How DO you make God laugh?"
B: "Tell him your plans."

At the time I just sort of chuckled and chalked it up to Bill's sometimes-odd sense of humor.

Now, I think he's brilliant. Now, I realize how completely accurate it actually is.

Now, in fact, that is exactly what is happening to me.

I PLANNED to quit my day job at the end of March
I PLANNED to do music full time and see what I could do with it

Hell, as long as I'm going off on this, lets back it up -

I PLANNED to lead an average life being a housewife and raising children
I PLANNED to live in Wisconsin my whole life
I PLANNED to be a teacher
I PLANNED to find a boy get married and live happily ever after

and you know what??

God Laughed.

"Nice try Kat- but that is so TOTALLY not what I have in store for you!" (cause in my head, God sounds like a girl from L.A. apparently)

Therefore, I do not have an average life. Actually, I have one of the strangest lives of anyone I know. I do not live in Wisconsin. I am not a teacher (except on rare occasions). And happy ever after doesn't exist the way you want it to. The story really does go on after the big beautiful wedding. And I can't afford to quit my day job, and I can't afford to do music full time.

And piece by piece every brick of the Wall-That-Is-My-Life is being taken down. Every safety net, every protection is being stripped away.

All all that's underneath is....

ME

And I could be bitter-but I'm not. And I could shake my fist at the sky and curse out God and the Universe- but I don't. I'm not saying I don't have bad moments or days (if you talk to me those days, I say I'm "broken". "Don't mind me, I'm broken today.") But overall I'm curious. I'm curious to see who's under all these layers- why the layers are there, and why I thought I needed them. I'm curious because if God and the Universe are going to such great lengths to make me deal with myself- then there must be something REALLY worthwhile under there.

I think what I'm trying to say, is that I LIKE making God laugh. I like the curveballs. I like that God is forcing me to know myself. I like for the first time in years I actually FEEL like praying. I FEEL like writing. And for the first time ever- I FEEL like just being myself. No matter what. Even when I'm messy. (Like now) And I can tell you kids, this year is going to be a WHOLE lot of messy.

So it was time. I went and got a new tattoo- a beautiful Morpho Butterfly. Which, to me, means about a thousand different things that I don't feel like sharing right now- but I can tell you this: The quote from the movie "A Bugs Life" has been going through my head like mad since I got it. Almost like some quiet interal mantra.

"Someday I will be a beautiful butterfly, and then everything will be better"

And so I sit in this awful awful mess,
And I wait for my art to heal.

~~questions, comments blog[at]katdowns[dot]com~~

Here She Comes...

2005-12-27T08:50:00.000-08:00

You are a Self-Discoverer

You're not religious, but you've created your own kind of spirituality.Introspective and thoughtful, you tend to look inward for the divine.You are distrusting of all forms of organized religion.You especially dislike religious gurus and leaders, who you feel are charlatans.

What's" Your Religious Philosophy?

The New Year fast approaches. I mean, damn, we only have like 5 days left.

Christmas didn't really feel like much this year- I admit, I didn't get into the spirit at all. Kind of pathetic, what with the lights everywhere and the huge tree in Union Square, and the ice skating and the (dear god) Christmas shopping. The lines were long, the stores were crowded. It took me an hour at the post office one day. And I think that was it. I firmly decided that nothing would be purchased or sent out until after New Years. Couldn't take the congestion. (One person without deodorant ruins it for the rest of us)

It's just a crowded time of year in this city. The rain finally came after hanging off for most of December- that means the busses are more crowded, and soaking, and you can't find an empty cab to save your life. Everyone uses umbrellas when they walk down the street, so umbrellas are bumping into each other, water down your neck, waiting for the bus, money gets wet, seats are wet, person standing in front of you is dripping on you. It's just the time of year that makes you stop and say, "Man, there are a LOT of people crammed into this city".

You can feel it too- which I suppose is still sort of a revelation for me, being from a fairly small city where you can still take a wrong turn and end up in the middle of nowhere. You can be walking down a street here, totally deserted in the middle of the night- no cars, no lights on, and you can STILL feel all the people. You are never alone in this city.

Which is part of the reason that apartment hunting is so interesting- a pain, for sure, but to see all of the different and creative ways these nooks and crannies have been created to house so many people on such a small plot of land is really fascinating. When Jumpin' J. and I were apartment hunting when we moved here, we must have looked at 20 apartments before we decided on the one we are in now. We saw a warehouse where people lived like it was a commune, and old building where everything had been painted so many times that the cabinets wouldn't close anymore, an old house set back off the road amidst a slew of apartment buildings... so many odd and interesting places. Some, completely unimpressive- some, so filled with stories it made your head spin.

It's not just apartments either. For example- the office I work in is set on a very small back alley type of street- one way when people pay attention to the sign. My office is part of a larger building that hosts a retail store and a Chicago-style Jewish deli. We all share the bathrooms. Across the "street" are two businesses being run out of garages. One of them is a coffee shop that just uses the sidewalk, and if you look over the barrista's shoulder, there's a woodworking shop behind them with guys building furniture. We also share this alley with an auto repair shop, a car elevator, a lingerie store, and a drycleaner. And- there is a park with a playground on one end of the street. A park built in the middle of a boulevard.

Interesting, isn't it? We're all crammed into whatever space we can find to do what we need to do. The whole city is like this. Space is definitely limited.

But there is this amazing vibe here. Most likely why I've fallen completely in love with this town. We're all squished together just trying to survive. To find and follow our dreams. To find our little nook, light a candle and call it home. And if you feel crowded? Head to the beach while it's raining and pick a spot to sit where you can't see the park rangers truck. Look out into the ocean and realize that you are on the edge of a continent.

And baby- that's all you need.

questions- comments ~ blog [at] katdowns [dot] com ~

L O S T

2005-11-09T10:05:00.000-08:00

Don't lie.

We've all been there. The Loop. The Vicious Circle. The Stuck. The Rut.

Which only gets worse when you add to it:

The Lack of Sleep. The Over-Booked. The Over-Worked. The Under-Appreciated.

But-
in there is the sensation that something...is...happening.

We are tied with a popular T.V. series by the same name:

LOST

(which, btw, hasn't aired a new episode in the last two weeks. What the crap is that all about you spazoids? You can't leave us hanging like this! You're like some big network pusher denying us our fix. KNOCK IT OFF)

(i digress)

At first I thought it was just me...but then I noticed a trend. People have commented. I've overheard strangers on the bus, on the street, in crowds. Friends and family comment on their own lives- all over the world-and the message is the same:

There's a change in the wind.
The rains are coming.
Strange things are afoot

- at the Circle K and beyond, apparently. -

Moments of serendipity, strange occurances and dreams. Flags popping up- signs-everywhere. Even people who don't believe in signs are seeing them. Old friends from the past popping up with big news, also stuck in the flux. And we know they are signs, but we don't always know what they mean. And we know change is coming, but we don't know why. And we know...something...sort of...

Which is making even those of us with direction feel....Lost.

When I add it up all together, it almost seems like the whole universe is gearing up for a gigantic hiccup. The looming feeling of "the time is now" is followed by the terrifying "time for...what?"

And there's nothing to do but wait. As people all across the world sit there with the intense sensation of being on the brink...of...something. And what an intense and overwhelming feeling that can be.

I wonder how it will break. The bubble continues to grow, at some point it has to pop. I wonder if the whole world is gearing up for something as a colective, or if humanity itself is being forced back to its roots- when spirituality wasn't laughed at, or looked at as insanity. When people didn't have to whisper quietly to each other..."you feel it too? I thought it was just me."

In the meantime. We wait. We listen to our inner voices and try to trust ourselves.

Me? I write. Journals, blogs, songs...and even in the push and shove I try to just let myself feel what I feel. Write what I write. No judgement. As is.

And I listen. I listen very hard.

What do you hear?

questions, comments~~ blog [at] katdowns [dot] com ~~

No Thunder Clap

2005-10-28T09:55:00.000-07:00

It was midnight- and the fire was crackling in the fireplace. I suddenly felt the need to take a shower, and when I emerged from the bathroom warm and dripping I put on every piece of warm clothing I could find. I took my flashlight and walked down to the lake.

It had been a new day for thirty minutes, and I sat on a picnic table in the dark looking over the dark expanse that was the lake. Black water under blackblue sky- and on the far shore behind the mountains there was a thunderstorm. It wasn't raining where I sat, nor did it seem to be raining over the lake, but above the mountains on the far side lightning cracked the sky... and each time I waited, but there was no thunder clap.

I had gone to the water to listen. Something was happening... in the universe, in me...I didn't know really. And whenever I tried to figure it out my mind would spin around and I couldn't concentrate. So I came to the water, clean and warm in the middle of the night-- to listen.

And what I heard was this: Change is coming. And it will come as a lightning storm- but there will be no thunder clap.

To be honest, this terrified me. However, as I watched the storm on the far shore in the middle of the night I was so deeply touched by how beautiful it was that I realized, even if I didn't understand....

~~questions, comments~~email: blog@katdowns.com

It's all about the SHOES!!!

2005-08-29T11:08:00.000-07:00

Allow me to take a moment to say that playing the Dean Lesher was FANTASTIC. Thanks to all of you who came to share in the magic Lindasusan and I spun that night, and to all my new friends a huge HELLO!!! Acoustic Love strikes again!

But as we all know- the only reason to perform is because of the shoes. Stage performances are strictly an excuse to buy fabulous shoes. Happiness is not happiness without fabulous shoes. On some days the only reason to go on is because of fabulous shoes. I'm pretty sure that whole "giant turned up cuffs on jeans" look came about so that we could make sure everyone could SEE the fabulous shoes.

Some people label me as having "Carrie Bradshaw" moments, but i'm saying they based that curly-haired shoe-lover on me. How dare they spy on me and then use my image without asking!! Of course, I'm nowhere near as neurotic. (or so i hope)

Anyway, back to the shoes.

My birthday shoes...ahh. I've already pulled them out of the box on several occasions just to look at them because they make me happy. I can't really explain why that is... there's just something comforting about knowing your feet look good. Kinda like you're having a bad day and you look down and.... yay! Pretty Shoes!!! I could just blame it on being a girl, but that's really not the case. Not all girls are into that sort of thing.

I am not one of those girls. Pedicures and pretty shoes are very important in my world. Mock if you must- it keeps me sane.

And speaking of sanity....

My Birthday Shoes and I are going on vacation for the month of September. During which we will be depressurizing, drinking lots of wine and, most importantly, finishing the songs for the new album. Those of you who made it to the Lesher show have heard some of the new tunes, and more of you will hear them once Birthday Shoes and I return and the Eclectics once again take the stage.

On a super-side note... thanks to the insane-o guestbook spammers, I'm being forced to remove the guestbook from my site. (Jerks!!) So to contact me or leave messages you can click on the "comment" button at the bottom of each journal entry- OR- you can email me directly about blog-related comments and criticisms at:

blog [at] katdowns [dot] com

Anything you want to hear about? Let me know.

Under Glass

2005-08-10T13:20:00.000-07:00

A song came up on random play today and I suddenly became aware of where I was. I mean, I was in my apartment, but for the duration of that song I was in a rental car driving through the desert in Arizona. The sun was setting. It was hot. I could smell the leather of the seats- I could see the semis we passed and the cacti on the side of the highway...

I suddenly realized that this is undoubtedly my favorite thing about music. All of these precious memories are locked inside me under glass and all I have to do to open them is just put on my headphones, close my eyes and listen....

*******Lightning Crashes by Live- I'm in my freshman year dorm room, a boy is singing to me******Little Earthquakes by Tori Amos- I'm in Colorado up to my elbows in flour on a Friday afternoon******Good Enough by Sarah McLachlan- I'm packing up in the middle of the night, crying*******Jerry was a Race Car Driver by Primus- I'm at my Aunt and Uncles house. I'm watching MTV between reports of the arrest of Jeffery Dahmer*******Groovy Kind of Love by Phil Collins- I'm driving in the car with my high school boyfriend. It's snowing.*******

There are whole albums that will bring me back to parts of my life.

There are albums I have had in permanent rotation for so far back they remind me of my entire life, not just certain parts. I consider them a part of me, as much as my skin and bones.

And the people...all I have to do is turn on this music and my friends are with me. I pop in an album and I'm in a friends apartment 9 years ago. For three months the three of us barely left. We stole a cement ashtray and got it up the stairs. We bought a bunny instead of checking ourselves into the psych ward. We tried to pour an entire bottle of rum into a watermelon. We read to each other at night......I pop in another one and I'm living with N. my first time out on my own. We watch movies, we watch our cats hate each other, we go to parties, we go grocery shopping in the middle of the night and dance to the muizac. We become sisters..... Another one -and I'm road tripping with M., another - a road trip with P. down to New Orleans, another- I'm with A. and it's raining....

From the artists viewpoint, when I hear a song I've recorded I remember where I was when i did it. What the studio looked and smelled like. Who was there with me. How I was feeling that day. But I also have the memories of when I wrote the song, what it was about, and why it was important enough for me to write down.

So my whole life is made up of these little bits of sound. As is everyones. And what one song makes me feel, you won't feel. And what you feel I won't feel. And why I wrote the song isn't important compared to why you love it and where it takes you.

And they said time travel wasn't possible. Sillies.

Fog Horns and U-F'n-TAH

2005-08-02T08:12:00.000-07:00

They said it was summer. However, I haven't worn shorts once, and my days are sandwiched in fog. I live in the Richmond district of San Francisco- summertime for us means fog until about 11, then clear, then fog rolling in around 3:30 again.

Fog/Sun/Fog.

There is no "hot" here. Locals here may dispute that, but that's because to them 75 is unbearably hot. I must argue that point, what with my mid-west upbringing and our 102 degree summers with 80% humidity (don't think i need to mention the mosquitoes).

While the fog itself can be depressing on a daily basis, there are two upsides. A) I work in a different neighborhood that gets sun, and B)

Fog Horns.

I LOVE fog horns. There is nothing better in the world than falling asleep to the sound of fog horns in the distance. There is nothing better than walking down the street and hearing fog horns in the distance. There is nothing better than being drenched in a thick fog with fog horns echoing behind you. There is just something so....I don't know....Casablanca about it. Makes me wish I was wearing a trench coat and a hat at a jaunty angle. It sounds like singing. Deep, low, resonant singing calling out to sailors in the mist. Very romantic, very "in a book", very "early black and white movie".....

Gets your imagination stirring, doesn't it? That's what I love about it. With a foghorn bellowing in the distance I always feel like something mysterious is about to happen.

But that doesn't mean that one doesn't need a vacation from it. I mean, it's supposed to be summer for God's sake. And to be completely honest- I just really needed to get the hell out for awhile. Some people go to the islands, or up north. Me? I go to Utah.

SB and crew picked me up at the airport late Thursday evening. Salt Lake City. One word- HOT. Hot like you want to die hot. And it's almost midnight. SWEET!

Up in the mountains though, good 'ol Park City, they are only snow free for about two months out of the year. So it's in the 70's or 80's, but not too hot. Just right. Just right for cocktails (all day) and sitting around on the deck, making fun of the neighbors. I love life in the mountains. The view, the air, the way the altitude makes the wine hit you just that much faster. Everyone has dogs. The grocery store looks rustic though it's brand new. There are moose in the back yard. Literally. And humming birds everywhere.

And it's quiet. And you can actually think. And your heart slows down just a little.

Ahhhhhhh.....

Until we meet the neighbors. I mean, we knew they were there. (I did mention mocking them earlier, did I not?) But we hadn't actually MET them, even though they'd been living there all summer, and SB's been there for about 4 years. We met them when they were sitting shirtless in a very white-trash sort of way on their front porch in front of a glass topped table that was, well, missing the glass. Cups and bottles were sort of balanced on the frame itself all at ackward angles. After initial meet and greets, they asked if we'd like to come over for to play some tunes on the guitar. Needless to say, I liked them immediately.

Nothing short of an insane impromptu-celebration followed. And I do love it when that happens. When you think you'll just be having a quiet dinner at home with friends then- BLAM!! A party- graffitti and frozen pizza with one old friend, two I only met two days earlier, and two I just met now. And I

Had
A
BLAST.

Which is exactly what I needed. It was hard to leave on Sunday.

So-
To SB: Thanks again for opening your home to me. I love you madly. Thanks for the food the wine and your ear. And many many many congrats- you are in my prayers daily!
To M: You are awesomely sweet. I do hope our paths cross again. Good luck with your last year of school- and don't forget: The Devil's got your nose.
To R: Or should i say "Carlos" - thanks for the blue drinks and for being amazingly patient with a bunch of giddy girls. I wish you luck with your new home- p.s. you look hot in drag.
To J: Thanks for the rock out. We will take the indie scene by storm. They won't know what hit them.
To T: If you were an album from a fairly popular band, you would be track 12.

Thank you all for an amazing weekend- you have helped this girl get her head back on straight.

Don't Quit Your Day Job

2005-06-15T15:02:00.000-07:00

I was watching Hell Boy when suddenly something popped into my head from back in the old college days- (sing along with me if you know it) "Hail to the sun god, he sure is a fun god, Ra-Ra-Rasputin. From the depths of the murky waters to the bites of the bullets swift, from the welts of beatings long forgotten, arsenic fresh on his lips....."

Don't ask.

But regardless, it got me to thinking about survival. Not so much survival of the fittest, but more like survival of the human soul. (Not that Rasputin was a great guy or anything, but he definatly was a fighter) There are so many things in today's day-to-day grind that can slowly just kill the sprit. Little things, like mean words to each other, the slow torture of personal comparison with the Adonis's on the covers of popular magazines- And bigger things too...

Like "Day Jobs"

Day jobs fall into a specific category- these are not usually career jobs. Day jobs are those jobs you hold down for income while you try to focus on doing what you really want to do, like making art or music, or starting your own company. Most people who hold day jobs don't really care about that particular job, maybe they don't even like it. They are very rarely passionate about it, and if they do by any chance find a day job that they can be passionate about and love then we, the majority holders, are envious of them.

Day jobs do however have a certain purpose. The obvious one is money, but there are more reasons than just that. The people you work with at day jobs are unlike any people you would ever meet anywhere else. Usually, they are other people, also working day jobs- but sometimes they are "lifers" (and what fascinating people they are). You get to use fascinating and grown-up sounding words and phrases such as: "interdepartmental", "per your request" and "proposed agenda" - maybe you get to dress up, wear a nametag, possibly operate a deep fryer. Maybe you get to answer phones and have one of those fake "phone voices" or do data-entry, and attend boring meetings. Regardless, there is in fact a lesson here. You get to explore a part of yourself that you never thought existed. Did you ever see yourself here? Doing these things? Working with these people? Could you have EVER imagined it- or when you step back outside yourself and look in, does it shock the holy hell out of you?

I know my answer.

Do you know yours?

I actually envy people in career jobs. They went to school, got a degree, got a job, chose a career path and are on it. Working in an office behind a desk making one thing or another happen is exactly what they want to be doing. Strategy meetings and 401K's and 9-6 workdays. (Let's not lie, when was the last time you knew someone who EVER worked 9-5? It's just a song people.)

For Day-Job-People it's a bit different. We've chosen a career that currently doesn't pay the bills. It will eventually,(*shakes fist at sky* "IT BETTER!!") but until that happens we are forced to take whatever we can to support ourselves in the meantime. That old phrase "it takes money to make money" couldn't be truer.

And there are the obvious setbacks. Working a job that is not your chosen career eats away at the time you need to spend on your actual field. For artists that means less time to spend on your art, for those trying to start their own business it's time away from building client lists and honing your skills. Day Jobs also eat away at your energy, and in time- your soul. You know what you are doing is not what you want to be doing, but you can't stop because you need to survive. There must be a happy medium. There must be- but it's hard to find and takes gads of discipline. Somewhere deep inside there's a fighter in all of us- the basic instinct to survive.

Sure, Rasputin was evil. Sure, he caused the fall of the Romanoff dynasty. Sure, he sold his soul to Satan. Does that really mean he was such a bad guy?

Yes!!!!

But lessons can be learned from everyone- can they not?

I'm a fighter. Are you?

Funkified

2005-05-02T12:57:00.000-07:00

These are the days- when the sunshine doesn’t matter and the wind makes you wish you were somewhere else. When all the words that come out seem half-formed and the ideas hang unfinished…like a train of thought-

Derailed.

Mourning is an interesting process. It starts harsh- like a slap in the face. Shock, bewilderment, confusion. Then the denial sets in- but not the way you think it would. Instead of angrily shouting at the sky, it sneaks in quietly. It’s as if your mind can’t even handle the concept of such a loss, so you actually forget that it happened-momentarily- while you’re washing your hands you start humming to yourself and when you look up in the mirror you suddenly remember….

Then the hurt. The inappropriate laughter. The tears. The lump at the back of your throat.

Then you hop on a plane and have an emotional break down in front of the whole rear cabin. People either avoid looking at you or openly stare, as if having tears rolling down your face is abnormal and wrong. As if showing emotion in public is a disease. I feel like I should have a circus-crier next to me: “Step right up ladies and gentlemen, gape in awe and wonderment at this freak of all freaks. You’ve heard the stories and now it’s time to see for yourself! The one, the only, PUBLIC CRYING GIRL!! What a story to tell your friends, ladies and gentlemen…”

Then the memories start. At first it’s hard to find any. Then they flood back so fast you can’t even see them clearly.

Then a week passes. A month. You go back to life.

But everything is not okay. You are cold. Harsh. Void of emotion. You are going through the motions but you’re not quite all there. You’re mind is somewhere else, but you’re not exactly sure where “there” is. You don’t even know what you’re thinking about. You are easily distracted, and constantly preoccupied with ….. nothing.

And there’s nothing to do but wait it out. Feel what you feel and acknowledge that it’s real. Wake every day and remind yourself that yes, that’s what happened, and yes, it’s part of life, and yes, it’s okay to feel like this.

And so for me…the memories of Christmas cookies and Scrabble games and backrubs that have made up my life have an element of sadness to them. The walks the talks and the day to day that formed who I am, the person I have become, the woman I will be…and realizing that the people I lived with formed my life just by being there and being themselves. Realizing that I am a walking-talking fingerprint of the people who raised me. And suddenly becoming aware of the parts of me that are so definitely….her.

So, not in fact gone- but in me.

I miss you Grandma…

Eclectics At Large

2005-04-04T11:37:00.000-07:00

It came and went like an orgasmic blur.

If I may be so bold, that is. :)

The debut of Kat Downs and the Eclectics at the Red Devil Lounge was above and beyond what I ever could have hoped for. My endless endless thanks to all of you who came out to see us- it was so wonderful to see you all again- and to meet some new people as well! True Margrit rocked the stage as always, and I have to say I am now definately a fan of Charlie Horse, who rocked on into the wee hours.

I feel very grateful for the Eclectics (who have determined that their symbol is an upside-down "e"- for those of you who know me, you know why that's fab-o-tastic) Together we create this bizarre little family all shoved together on a little stage creating this amazing sound that just sends me soaring.

There is nothing- NOTHING- like being on stage for me. Lights in my face, sound all around me, I just disappear into it all like ice melting in water. All the crap and everyday worries just slide off me as soon as that first note is hit and I'm in another world all together. My hands move without thought, my voice falls out of my mouth with no effort and for those few short moments I just.... AM. It is the most exhiliarating, the most satisfying, the most relaxing sensation I can even describe. Feels like, flying? Like,...breathing? Calm? A million things. Good. It feels very very good.

God I missed that.

God I needed that.

And now only one word seems to echo in my head... more...More.... MORE!! Let the booking begin. There will be a lot more shows coming up as now I've had a taste of this Drug they call Show... and once is never enough.

And if I may take this moment for a personal message to the band- (of course I can- it's my blog afterall)

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Eclectics, - thank you for being exactly who you are. No more, no less. Thank you for sharing your talent, thank you for being rockstars. Thanks to BC and his blue-baby for giving me chills and to Cookie, my brother, for punk-thunking and Slow Motion Walter for keeping me at bay and Lindasusan for blowing my mind and keeping me sane at the same time and RedHead RA for singing so pretty (and double thanks to the ladies for sharing the love of the strappy shoes- happiness isn't happiness without strappy shoes)

Here's to strappy shoes...

Brush With Fame??

2005-02-12T22:38:00.000-08:00

Today I was totally dissed by Ben Folds.

For those of you also addicted to MySpace.com, you can only imagine my absolute glee when I discovered that Mr. Ben, my long time music-crush, had signed up for a MySpace page only yesterday. As I am a true fan, I followed basic MySpace etiquette and sent a message to Mr. Ben and asked to be added to his friend list.

My email read:

“Hi Ben- happy to find you on myspace! (just joined myself a week ago and have found it totally addictive.)
I'm a long time fan of your songwriting- thank you so much for sharing your skills!

- kat”

So as you can see, nothing scary.

Now for those of you unfamiliar with the way this site works, you need to be accepted as someone’s friend. So until they accept or decline you, their icon lives in your “pending request” file. If they accept you, they suddenly show up under your friend list. If they decline you, they just disappear out of your pending cue.

Ben Folds declined me.

Let the over-analization begin….

Could be that because I’m a “band” I was automatically rejected. I doubt this, because A) that would suck and B) there are other bands listed as friends on his page.
Mr. Ben could have gone to my page to see who the crap I was and decided that I suck.
Could be that only bands he knows are accepted as friends.
Mr. Ben could have listened to my tunes and been so intimidated by my elite skills, that he is going to try and forget that I exist.
Or he decided that since we’re going on tour together in the future that me being on his MySpace list wasn’t important.

In all reality it’s probably not Mr. Ben actually updating or taking care of that site. So whoever is, is a jackass. (if it actually is Mr. Ben- BEN- WTF BUDDY??!!) I don’t suck that bad- and just because I’m a “band” doesn’t mean I’m not a real fan. I stick my tongue out at you.

That’s fine Mr. Ben- you can deny me all you want. I still love your tunes. You’re a big mean boy, but I love your tunes. Just to get back at you I went and finished that song I’ve been working on. It is the best song I’ve written yet, so take THAT.

When we go on tour you are never going to hear the end of this.

Sick-as-a-dog....

2005-02-05T17:48:00.000-08:00

And everything seemed fine until the universe stepped in and said "Reality check- Bitch!" and wango.

I'm stuck in a schedule i can't get out of and I'm sick as a dog. No one can cover for me, so I can't take any time off- and deadlines loom and days fly by and i get further and further behind- so how can my lesson be that I need to slow down? I assume that's the lesson mainly because that's what my mom always said.

"Getting sick is life's way of telling you to slow down."

But in all reality how can that be the case when getting sick is going to throw my whole schedule out of wack for about two weeks? I've been avoiding Sick like the plague for at least three weeks (no pun intended) and I guess i zagged when I should have zigged.

Which of course makes me flashback (what doesn't) to when I had nothing scheduled ever. Right after I moved to California - no job, no local friends. I joined a songwriter group that met about once a month. I remember I would go to the meeting and at the end everyone would pull out their calendars and we would figure out what day worked for everyone. I never needed a calendar then- I just pretty much had to remember what day it was. So I would write it in my empty empty calendar and think to myself "yay, i have something to look forward to next month" - hehehe....

If i don't look in my calendar now I would miss something. I have to write notes in my calendar to remind myself to CALL people to schedule other stuff. If i have an afternoon to myself now-a-days I barely know what to do! Maybe that is the lesson. Need more time? But how? It's not as if i can suddenly force the day to have more hours, or scam myself out of a few more hours of sleep. (I need my sleep- i crave it. If it's taken away from me i get extreemly crabby.) And I know I'm not the only one out here like this- we are all busy busy people. Busy enough that we have to schedule time to hangout with our friends, and in my opinion that is just SAD.

I think back to the days when E. and I had phone conversations like this:

*ring-ring*
K: "Hey."
E: "Hey. What'cha doing?"
K: "Nothing, you?"
E: "Nothing."
K: "Coffee shop, 15 minutes?"
E: "Yup. Bye."
K: "Bye"
*click*

Oh holy crap those were the days. (what was that, 2 years ago?) When i think of how much of my life passed deliciously away at that coffee shop between endlessly good conversations and peach iced tea it puts a huge smile on my face. Ah, if only we could all be independantly wealthy. But I digress....

**TIME**

Time is the issue, and it's of the essence, and it keeps on slippin'-slippin'-slippin' into the fu-ture. So how do we make the most of it, and appreciate it, and milk it for all it's worth? I never EVER wanted to be one of those people who needed to SCHEDULE alone time, or personal time, or quiet time. But here I am, and that's exactly what I have to do. And I stick to it as much as I can. Multitasking helps immensly as well, being at one place at one time taking care of four things at once is great. Hiring other people to do work for you also rocks, but is not always affordable. But all of this is just so - i dunno... un-romantic, so ... grown-up and depressing that honestly I do most of it with my eyes closed waiting for the next moment when i can forget all about all that crap and just be my floaty-daydreamy self again. (which is normally during the pre-scheduled rehearsal slots- so sad)

But then I look at the band. The angels they are. And they have the same problems I do. They've had their turns with colds and flu this season as well- and I've seen it work havoc on their lives also. And i've watched them balance day job/family/music - sometimes with grace, sometimes not, and sometimes it falls apart horribly. And I realize that if I sing pretty enough, then we can remove "day job" from the equation and you know what that leaves us with?

Time.

So really, the lesson is just get healthy. And keep on singing........:) Universal advice for everyone, don't you think?

48 Hours to Bask

2005-01-15T13:54:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a good day. I started crying at 4:00. I cried those quiet sobs that you have when you don't want anyone else to hear you, and the tears rolled down my face as i went through my normal Friday afternoon routine.

And then I started laughing. And i couldn't stop. I giggled to myself under my breath, and when no one was watching I did a little dance.

And then I cried again. And I called J. and he said he would come and pick me up.

And we drove through rush hour traffic- and had one of those amazing conversations that you will remember for the rest of your life. I feel like I'm on some drug as one minute I'm up, then down, then happy, then sad. One second hyper, the next quiet and contemplative.

And we get to the Breedlove house. The same house I came to how many years ago? Now with new paint. And more equipment inside. And more memories. And Kim was at the door- just like the first time. Only then, I was auditioning for a spot in a cover band. I wasn't even sure I knew how to sing. I had never played popular music before in my life. (what was I doing there?)

And we come inside and along the wall in the rehearsal room is a huge stack of boxes. My boxes. My boxes that I've been waiting for for ....ever? There are so many boxes. And i go from laughing to quiet again.

And everyone is nice enough to let me have a moment to myself- and as I open the boxes my heart is pounding and the breath stops short in my throat. Inside those boxes are smaller boxes- I pull one out and open it- and there they are. "Kat Downs- Head of Revelations" hundreds of them looking up at me. My own face looking up at me, smiling (hello, they seemed to say. have you been waiting for us? it's been a long time coming)

Then everyone is there, and Kim has champagne- and the album is in the cd player and we are all beaming. Walter calls and "woo-hoo!"'s me from the cell phone- I'm crying, laughing, I don't even know what to do with myself. Everyone is planning, celebrating and it washes over me like warm water.

And we have to go- to see Ange and Bill because without them I'd still be hiding behind my keyboard at Starbucks. And we all laugh and celebrate together- and we listen to the album again and everything for once is right in the world and I am comfortable in my skin.

So I have 48 hours to bask- to lay out these disks until they cover the floor and just look at them and love them. To feel like I've accomplished something- a huge goal met. A huge hurdle crossed. A weight off my shoulders. A huge sigh released. Cause on monday, it's game on.

That's right- the disks are here kids- keep your eyes peeled.

Rain Day

2005-01-08T11:39:00.000-08:00

The storm of the century, or so they said. What it really is, is 7 days of drizzle. Or is it 9, 10? This is the only time of year that SF has a so-called season. Rain. Lots and lots of rain. Rain that sucks the light out of every day. Rain that makes waking up at 7 feel like waking up at 5. Rain that pours, drizzles, mists – on and off, and on again so that you don’t know if you should even bother with an umbrella.

Forget it. I’ll just get wet.

(How am I expected to make up my mind when the sky can’t even make up it’s mind?)

Rain has a romance to it though. The pittering sound on the cement and windows that seems to be whispering secrets if you really stop to listen. The feel of heat on your wet feet after you finally get inside. The darkened sky in the middle of the day that makes you want to cuddle and giggle under a sheet with someone. Hide away all day until the sun comes out again. Or in this case, until what- May? I’d be alright with that…

Days like this make me want to write. Light about 200 candles and let my hair down and chain myself to the piano and make magic. I have felt loads and loads better since the music has started flowing again. The strange thing about this “business they call show” is that the business gets in the way of the art. You need to book shows. You need to make an album, have a website, a mailing list. You need to have a logo, a look. So you preoccupy yourself with these things. Then, when you book a show you realize- oh yes. I need to actually have some SONGS or something to perform. It’s a vicious circle.

Part of my problem in itself is that I write songs mainly because I can’t help it. But, it’s also a major part of relaxation therapy for me. (get my stir-crazy brain to settle down once and a while) I didn’t realize that until the making of the album and preoccupation of the business end pretty much pushed anything even remotely creative right out of my system. I’d never had a long-term writers block before- and part of me wondered if I’d lost my touch, and it would never come back again. Would I never ever have anything meaningful to write about? And then came the rain…and with it the inspiration to return to the notebook.

So I’d like to take this opportunity, while I am accepting my Dreary-Saturday award, to thank the rain for telling me stories. And making me remember all the different times we’ve shared together. The times we danced, the boys we’ve kissed, the trips we’ve taken, the tears we’ve shed.

Because that is what you are, are you not?

Tears?

Kiss in 2005

2005-01-02T11:21:00.000-08:00

It’s just another day.

You go out, have some drinks, get home late and go to sleep. This is no different than any other random night out- so why does it feel different? What makes this night a fresh start?

Because a calendar says so?

Or is it because the whole world watches the clock for those last few seconds-

5….this time will be different…..4…..I won’t make so many mistakes……3……I will love myself more……..2……..please let things get better…….1……..Happy New Year!!

And if you are very lucky, you have someone who loves you to kiss and bring in the New Year on a good note.

The New Year always makes me very emotional. It’s not really that I feel that it’s special- any day can be a new year. Any time you go to sleep and wake up can be a fresh start. Any time you suddenly realize something and change your mind can be a fresh start.

I think what gets to me in particular is the camaraderie. Everyone for one second is perfect. Guilt free, grief free, sin free. For one second everyone together wishes for better things. For one second everyone together wants the world to change for the better. It’s like the whole world breathing a gigantic sigh of relief before everything returns (unfortunately) to normal. And the weight- the weight is actually lifted off of your shoulders….

…if only for a moment.

I don’t believe in New Years Resolutions. Mainly because I never kept one in my life. I decided a long time ago that if I was going to make changes in my life that I would randomly pick a day that is otherwise meaningless and make that into my “change” day. Today is a celebration of a change day for me- one month ago I quit smoking. So, today I celebrate myself- and it has nothing to do with the New Year. (Yay me, I rock.) And my celebration will be locking myself in the studio and working on music all day, because it’s my favorite thing to do.

Home From the Holidays

2004-12-26T18:17:00.000-08:00

What is it about returning home that makes us go dizzy with that bizarre combination of memories and ‘what if’s’ ?? And where is home really? I mean, I guess I’ll always think of Wisconsin as home because I grew up there, but once I’m there I refer to San Francisco as home.

I guess “home” is really the destination, not the starting point.

This was the first trip back that I didn’t just drive around and visit all my old haunts. Most of them have changed enough that they no longer resemble the places I once loved, which makes me sad in a way - because life moves on no matter what. Even if you think you are holding everything still under glass in your head, its actually moving on without you. Even the city itself has changed enough that there are parts of it I just don’t recognize anymore, and I’ve been away long enough now that I really have to stop and think about driving directions and where things are at all. Of course I come back here and I barely know my way around anyway, so it makes one feel sort of …. homeless - I guess. You really never can go home, because when you get there, it just doesn’t feel like home anymore.

I did a lot of listening while I was away on my holiday break- I would have to say my favorite song right now is “Mess” by Ben Folds’ Five off of “The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner” album. I do admit I have a bit of a music-crush on the fab Mr. Ben. (who couldn’t really?) I’m waiting patiently for him to meander back this way so I can see him live again. (Hi Ben! Invite me to go on tour with you!!) My favorite lyric in that song has to be “And I don’t believe in God, so I can’t be saved”

Brilliant!!!

If it wasn’t raining I would go to the beach and shake off the snow. But maybe instead I’ll just go eat some sushi, split a hot sake and call it a night. The New Year approaches, and God only knows what’s going to happen…..

Finally!

2004-12-13T19:29:00.000-08:00

Today- December 13^th 2004 at 4:35pm I mailed in my CD and graphics to the duplicating company. It is done. Done- World? Do you hear me? It’s DONE!! It has taken 13 months, a part time job, several hundred gallons of gas, numerous tickets for Muni and Bart- thousands of tears and heartaches and frustrations- headaches and blisters and internal screaming fits to get this thing all together. And after I had done my final listen today- after I had proofread the order forms, double and triple checked the check lists, I set it all in a stack to take it over to Fed Ex, and sitting there- it looked so small. Just a stack of paper really- and some disks. Weighed less than a pound.

And I couldn’t help but think- how is it possible that something so small- something not even alive-has been my focus, my drive, my passion for over a year. A year of my life sitting in a tiny little pile at the foot of the bed waiting to go to Fed Ex. Part of me wanted to laugh, part of me wanted to cry. A very large part of me wanted to just sit there and look at it for at least two days and contemplate life, the universe and everything as I am prone to do- but Fed Ex has cut off times, and there were deadlines at stake.

I almost expected fanfare as I left the FedEx store- of course there wasn’t any. Just the normal sounds of the city. It actually made me look at people differently. As I looked at the man on the corner I couldn’t help but think- is this a good day, or a bad day for you? Was today a day that changed your life? Would you even tell me if I asked? And as I walked back to the car I realized how anti-climatic it had been. How I was so overcome with emotion there were tears in my eyes, yet the woman behind the counter had only said “Thank you- here’s your receipt.”

The Eclectics Are Born

2004-11-18T13:50:00.000-08:00

Last night at rehearsal Keith and I were joined by Walter Boland (drums) and Troy Philis (lead guitar) . I need to take a moment here and say how unbelievably grateful I am to have these unbelievable people join me. The energy in the room was fantastic!! Forward motion, forward motion.

As for the album, I will be proofreading the second set of prints this week. The master has gotten its final approval, and is actually really really done. For real this time. It's done. No, really. DONE. (I'm trying to convince myself. Every time I thought it was done before, it apparently wasn't. In my opinion, it's been done at least twice already.) :) I must admit, it has taken a lot longer than I had hoped it would, but the extra time has been worth it, to fine tune the whole thing and get it just right.

And as for me- the holidays approacheth. (is that a word?) When the sun goes down at 5:00 I suddenly get tired, and have to remind myself that it's at least another 5 hours before bed. I'm planning a trip home with J to spend with family and friends and SNOW- I do miss the snow. (not the shoveling though) and as always, I'll be dressing up in my Dad's old snowsuit and heading off to see the Packers at Lambeau field. I mean, how can you not?

The Eclectics and I are working really hard to get our show together so we can get out there and entertain all of you. Thanks again for hanging in this year while I was mostly MIA.

Kat

Do I detect progress?

2004-11-01T21:20:00.000-08:00

Things are "beginning to end". Everything having to do with the album is in its absolute final stages, and everything to do with the band is just beginning. I'm looking forward to the release in 2005- it's sitting there in the future like some monumental page-turn....

Two shows this last weekend with Sparrows Point, so fun. I do look forward to dressing up and putting on my "gothic angsty-ist" getting on stage and just going nuts. It makes me miss doing my own stuff though, and while I'm having so much fun in the back of my mind I'm just looking forward to getting on the stage again with my own songs. "Soon, soon..." I always tell myself. But at this time of year when it gets dark so early and the hours just seem to melt away nothing ever seems soon enough. Apparently winter kills patience.

Or maybe it's just me.

Welcome to my new webpage....

2004-10-27T23:12:00.000-07:00

So, this is what it feels like to be in cyberspace.... warmer than I expected. Heh.....

The album is closer to done, then not, then is, then not... delay delay,- - huge leap forward... and so frustrating at times I could just scream. But it's my heart and soul in physical form and nothing is going anywhere until it is justjustjustjust right. (for those watching, i'm expecting release in jan. or feb. at this point....fresh start on a new year)

Had the first rehersal tonight for "Kat Downs: The Band" Keith and I stumbled through bass parts and came through triumphant on the other side. I'm very excited about that. It will be so good to get back on the stage. While recording is challenging in it's own way and I've definately learned a lot and "grown as a person" in the last year, performing is really my favorite, and I would choose that over the most beautiful studio any day.

So this site will probably be under construction for a bit- things may go, stay, change, whathaveyou so stick around- listen to some tunes- and as for the journal, it will probably get messy in here... but that's just the way I am, so DEAL with it! :)

- kat "callin it a night" downs