Pieces of Me

After travelling for almost 22 hours, I finally arrived at our lovely little house in Austin. The first thing I saw was my 1998 Toyota Camry sitting in the car port. For those of you that don’t know, her name is Candy.

Yes, that is a custom made name tag attached to her boot which was specially made for her by Toyota.

The main thing you need to know is that Candy is a Rockstar. She has almost 350,000 miles on the clock and runs like a dream. She’ll willingly take me anywhere and everywhere I need to go and her absolute favourite thing in the world is a road trip. Dallas? No worries. South Padre Island and back? Piece of cake. Hot, cold, rain or shine – Candy is always ready to be my roadie car.

On this occasion Candy had been waiting patiently in our car port for the past 7 days.

Here are some of the things she really dislikes:

Hills
Cheap, crappy petrol
Stupid people
Not going anywhere for days on end

We literally go out at least once every single day. She loves to be driven, hates doing nothing.

But, despite this, it doesn’t ever matter how long I leave Candy for – a few days or a few months, she *always* starts up with the first turn of the key.

This time was no exception. Shortly after arriving home I put my suitcase in the house and grabbed my cluster of Candy-keys.

And as always, she started up, first time. No complaints.

I sat there for a good few minutes, soaking up some Candy-vibes. The lightly worn leather seat hugging my legs and back, that wonderfully characteristic old interior car smell, the distinctive sound of a Candy-car engine idling. Such simple little things, but in that moment they made me feel perfectly grounded.

Most people would think I’m nuts to be so attached to an inanimate object of any shape or form, especially a white ’98 Camry.

it’s just a bloody car!!

But she’s not just a bloody car. She’s the reason I was able to take on more work and grow, both musically and personally. She knew me when I had no money, no stuff around me and absolutely no clue what the hell I was doing, never mind how the heck to get around Austin.

Without knowing or really caring, Candy grounded me at a time when I didn’t know how to fully process everything that had just happened. That’s how I felt when I first moved to the US and it’s exactly how I felt all over again after my recent trip to the UK.

I went to visit my parents for a week to help them move out of their beautiful farm, a place they have called home for the past 25 years. I felt such a strange mixture of emotions. The sucky ones I tried my best to balance out with gratitude but I have to be honest, it’s easier said than done. Through being a musician I’ve been lucky enough to travel to some beautiful places all over the world, but no matter where I’ve visited, the farm has always been my favourite place to be. I couldn’t wait to get back there. In every vision I’ve ever had about my future the farm was always part of it.

This also would’ve been a little easier to process if my parents had actually wanted to move, but they didn’t. They felt exactly the same way I did and were devastated to have to leave their little piece of paradise behind, not to mention SO much of our family history.

We moved to the farm when I was 13. My Grandmother had passed away a year earlier. My Grandfather had to move in with us having lost not just his wife, but his home and business in one fell swoop. My parents were also looking for work and at a time when all seemed to be so lost the Universe presented the farm at exactly the right moment. I remember so clearly our first couple of visits there.

I absolutely hated it.

It was in the arse-end-of-nowhere surrounded by nothing but fields. The house hadn’t been taken care of at all and needed a lot of work. It oozed sadness and was most definitely not welcoming. I’ve also never visited a property with zero signs of wildlife.

No birds, no animals, no nothing.

It was like a ghost farm. Nothing wanted to go anywhere near it, including miserable-stroppy-13-year-old me.

However, within a very short amount of time I soon realised that the farm was a very special place indeed. It was also amazing how after only a few months of living there, life in a variety of shapes and sizes was drawn to the property like a magnet. Wild birds, rabbits, 2 species of barn owl, bats, weasels and 2 cats all chose to come and take up residence. We also owned an eclectic mix of animals ourselves, who were for the most part rescues, strays or rejects. Our little gang consisted of: chickens (including 20 ex-battery hens), a small herd of sheep, 3 greyhounds, a pot-bellied pig and an aviary with various quail, lovebirds and budgies.

One of the most special moments at the farm was the creation of an entire colony of wild ducks. One morning 2 ducks just appeared out of no-where (Duncan and Debbie) and never left. We started feeding them and they seemed to enjoy hanging out with the chickens. Not long after that they had their own family and since then that colony just got bigger and bigger, to the point that there are around 50 ducks who were born at the farm and still live there.

All of them would fly between the pond at the farm and the river Dart (just under 1 mile away) trying to score as much food as they could (between us and the tourists on the river they usually did pretty well 😉 ). Sometimes on their return trip from the river they’d bring friends back to the farm, which was super cool, especially as multiple times we saw rare breeds of both geese and ducks who wanted to hang with our crew.

Over the years, more and more animals would just appear one day and end up living at the farm.

Something that I think helped attract all these amazing creatures was my Mum’s love for gardening. As you all know I’m sure, music is my thing, it’s what I live for. With my Mama it’s all about being outside in her garden. That’s her jam. If you can’t find her anywhere the chances are she’s watering flowers or potting up some plants.

We also built my Mum her own little polytunnel so she had somewhere to work during the colder months.

All of this and so much more is what made living at the farm so special, but most importantly, I found who I was musically.

I taught myself how to play bass, drums and acoustic guitar at the farm. I set up my first ever recording studio in 2 of the stable blocks towards the end of the property. My whole family helped put it together. My Grandad helped me install an extra window and made new window frames. My Dad hooked up all the electric sockets and helped me plumb in a sink unit so I could make cups of tea. My Mama helped me paint both rooms and my Ex and I put in a new ceiling and plastered it all. It was my perfect little space where I recorded literally hundreds and hundreds of songs and practised for hours.

I also had a separate rehearsal space and everyone would always come to my place for practise and jam sessions. I had it set up like a music venue, with a stage, full PA, guitar and bass amps, drums, mics. It was a lot of fun.

Being so close to both the river Dart and tons of beaches, I often went surfing and kayaking – or at the very least, took my Molly dog for a walkie there most days.

When I moved to Austin I sold almost everything I owned, which trust me was not easy at all. I mean, you know how I feel about my Candy-car right? 😉 Well imagine that spread out across 22 years worth of collecting quite a bit of music gear. Yeah, it was hard. Along with selling my music stuff I sold my surf board and pretty much anything to do with surfing. But one of the things I had held onto was my wetsuit – something I came across when helping my parents move recently. The moment I un-covered it I held the suit up to my face. It smelt like a wonderful mixture of the ocean and neoprene (surfy people will know that very distinctive rubber smell 🙂 ).

Since moving to Austin I (rather unsurprisingly) haven’t surfed once. Heck, I’ve not even been IN sea water in 5 years. Whenever I go back to the UK I never have time to get in the water and catch waves, which is fine, it’s something I’ve just had to adjust to. People who grew up near the ocean will know that the moment you are in-land it energetically feels *totally* different. Without looking out the window, you just know you’re not near a large amount of water and it seems odd. Only now after 5 years have I just about gotten used to this. Although anytime I’m near the sea it feels like I’m connecting back to the source. It’s a very calming place to be.

The place my parents have moved to is considerably smaller, but super cute. We had to try and condense 25 years worth of ‘stuff’ into a small 2 bedroom house, which was quite the challenge! 😉 But we totally made it work.

This transition is going to be weird, especially for my lovely parents and my sweet Molly-dog. I know it’ll be ok, right now it’s just – weird ❤

One of the many beautiful sunsets we’d see at the farm, the night sky was also spectacular as there was no light pollution

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Regrets?

When I first started out on my journey as a pro muso (*cough *cough years ago) someone shared a well known saying with me, which went something along the lines of as long as you have your art, nothing else matters. More than a handful of occasions in my lifetime I have looked back on this particular saying and thought to myself ‘what a total bunch of hippy-dippy crap‘. These were usually moments when I didn’t have enough money to pay for the petrol I had just put into my car, or when my debit card had been declined at the grocery store checkout, or when I got late fees because bills went out of my account and I didn’t have enough funds to cover them, yadda yadda yadda. At that time I thought whoever said those stupid words had zero idea what it was like to suffer for your art. It did really feel like a terrible curse and that living like any other normal-non-arty-human-being would’ve been SO much easier.

In a similar vein, I read an article years ago about an art teacher who greeted his students at their very first class with ‘some of you will have the misfortune of becoming artists‘. Depressing, but kinda true.

You may well be wondering where I’m going with all this.

Well, I got a question for ya.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like if, knowing what you know now, you were able to travel back in time and re-do your life again? Is there anything you’d do differently? What If you could go back and meet a much younger version of yourself? What would you say?

From time to time I do ponder this very question and the answer always comes back no, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m happy and grateful I chose this path. Now that I’m older, I understand that the struggle itself is a gift. I’m a stronger, more resilient person because of it. Those words that I used to resent so much now make perfect sense. These days my life is considerably easier, but through all the awful hardship and embarrassing lack of funds, it was art that got me through. Music kept me on the straight and narrow and it really is a blessing to know without any doubt whatsoever who you are meant to be. Over the years people and places would change, but music was and will always be there when ever I need it. It’s a beautiful thing.

Just lately though, I have been thinking a lot about my life over the past 38 years. Recently I asked myself that same question – do I have any regrets? As mentioned earlier, my answer is usually no.

But this time I hesitated. Actually, there are a few things I would change, or if I was able to travel back in time and meet much younger Katie Marie I’d love to tell her a thing or two.

A couple of weeks ago I had a really interesting conversation with one of my students. She’s young. Just 14 years old, and like me at 14, she knows everything about everything. We got talking about how things have changed over the years with technology and music and I began a sentence with words I never thought I’d use –

When I was your age….

Oh Lordy. It’s official. I’m an old fart.

After our lesson I really thought a lot about those 5 words…when I was your age. I reflected on when I was a teenager. What I thought about, how I felt, how I acted. And because of this, my answer to the ‘would I change anything’ question has changed.

I think it’s pretty safe to assume that most people know I bat for the other team. Now, I don’t go about waving flags or making a big song and dance about it – because to be honest, in every day situations I don’t consider it to be of great importance. That being said, I am very open about it and would never dream of pretending to be something I’m not in order to make someone else feel more comfortable.

Quite frankly, that’s just dumb.

From an early age, my parents drummed into both me and my brother: Be Your True Authentic Selves. DO NOT follow the herd. They have always encouraged us to follow our hearts and do what ever makes us happy, without any expectations. Both my parents loved that I was super into music and have always supported me wanting to be a musician.

Along with being into creative stuff, from an early age I knew that I was different and I also had a very clear idea about what I liked and didn’t like. I loved music. I adored being close to trees and nature, to the point that as a 4 / 5 year old I would get up in the middle of a lesson and either head to the piano in another classroom or go outside and sit by some trees. I’d be invited by my class mates to birthday parties and all the other children would be obediently sat around playing games and interacting with each other.  ‘Where’s Katie?’ would be a question often asked by the adults, at which point they’d go looking for me and more often than not find me somewhere on my own, either looking at a book, sitting next to an animal of some description or (if there was one available) playing a musical instrument. I found groups of people drained my energy. I was happier in my own company surrounded by animals or inanimate objects. They were peaceful and calming to me.

My parents (thank God) never tried to change me and just accepted me the way I am. They didn’t ever say things like ‘you must interact and socialise with the other children more Katie’, quite the opposite, they encouraged me to be myself and made it very clear that being unique and different is most definitely a good thing. If I didn’t want to hang out with the other kids and wanted to talk to a cow in the next field, then so be it.

I had this loving, kind and extremely accepting energy from my parents – and yet the moment I turned into a teenager *everything* became complicated.

At 14 years old I did NOT think that being unique was a good thing at all. I was different and it was a total pain in the bottom.

I wanted to be like everyone else. But no matter how hard I tried (and I really did try) I just couldn’t do it. At school the teachers attempted to squeeze every ounce of individuality out of each and every child and push them into the same shaped hole as everyone else. All the other kids went along without a lot of resistance. They accepted being herded into the sheep pen and told that your life will be exactly the same as everyone else’s.

Those teachers taught me that when you get older you get married to someone of the opposite sex, have a fancy job (which isn’t necessarily something that makes you happy, but it does make a butt load of money and impress others), buy a house, have kids, watch them have children and then retire.

Which is totally fine, if that’s what floats your boat and makes you happy. The problem for me is that’s what every one *else* does. And in my school if you didn’t want the above and wanted something different, something outside of the realms of what was presented by those people – you were considered an outcast, a waste of space and someone destined to amount to very little.

I remember meeting with multiple ‘careers advisors’ and teachers who were supposed to help us decide what jobs we were going to work towards. When I told them I wanted to be a musician, each and every one of them replied straight away with ‘that’s NOT a profession, you have to pick something else’. ‘But that’s what I want to do with my life, isn’t it my choice?’ I would ask. After refusing to change my carear choice I ended up getting a detention for being disrespectful to my teachers.

I know, talk about things that make you go hmmmmm?

The problem that these people refused to acknowledge or recognise, was that I’m not meant to follow the herd, have a regular job and do regular people things. I’m an arty sort, something I’ve known my whole life. But my school teachers were hell-bent on spending their days slowly but surely trying to mould me into something I wasn’t.

There was also a very heavy assumption from both school and society in general that:

  • I would *want* to get absolutely wasted on what ever liquor or substance I could get my hands on
  • I’d *choose* to stay out late and hang out in crappy nightclubs listening to shitty music at an annoyingly loud volume while at the same time oogling at dirty-smelly boys
  • And worse than both of those things put together – it was a given that I would be attracted these dirty-smelly dudes and want to sleep with them

So when none of the above was of interest to me at all I seriously thought something was wrong with me.

You have to remember – this was pre-internet and Google. Back then the only way to have questions answered was by writing a letter to the Agony Aunt column in Bliss Magazine and hoping they’d select your question. This was (of course) highly unlikely as hundreds of confused and needy girls would write letters to Bliss about boys and va-jay-jays every single week. Also, living in a small rural town in Devon, there wasn’t exactly an eclectic mix of people to hang out with and there was certainly no mention of there being any alternative ways of living. My heart knew what I wanted and needed, but day after day, month after month, year after year, I chose to ignore what it was telling me and did the complete opposite, just to fit in.

Laaaame-o.

I would tell myself, surely if I do all these things over and over at some point it will feel normal??

Rather unsurprisingly, it never did.

My heart repeatedly told me:

I love staying up late and working on new songs or learning covers by my favourite artists and bands.

I am most at peace when I am around animals and nature.  

Playing music makes me very happy.  

Drinking and doing drugs in public places makes me feel very uneasy.

I am not attracted to dudes. Not at all. And that’s totally ok.

It told me this over and over again. At first quietly, then the further I moved away from my true self it got louder and louder. I kept ignoring it. I kept telling myself that because I’m not like other people something was WRONG.

Which of course, is ridiculous. I know that now, decades later. But back then I wasn’t brave or kind enough to know that outside approval is most definitely not needed and that you should always follow your heart. It knows the way. Always.

So – to answer my original question, my only regret, the one and only thing I’d change, is that I wish I could’ve been kinder to me and been true to myself.

I would love to go back in time and meet me at 14 and say ‘you know what KM, it doesn’t feel right because it ISN’T right! And that’s totally ok. You aren’t meant to follow others. You are unique and that’s a gift! You were meant to march to a different drum beat – everyone’s in 4/4 and you’re marching to some kind of super hip 7/8 beat where the accent changes with each measure (*sorry, nerdy music talk)’

At the time, external validation was SO important. I needed ‘insert name of popular person here’ to like me and think I was cool. Why can’t I think I’m cool and that be enough? Because I was 14 and figuring shit out and stupid unimportant things like that matter to you at that age.

So that’s my story. What about you? Do you have any regrets? Anything you’d change if you could? What would you tell a younger version of you?

Thanks as always for reading this far ❤ You are a legend.

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Tipping & Tree-Huggin-Hippy-Crap

When I originally moved to the States I did find the whole tipping system rather daunting and a tad confusing. Coming from a country where we generally don’t tip people, I really had no idea how the whole thing worked.

Do I tip everyone for everything? And if I do tip, how much do I give them?

For example, on my very first trip to do grocery shopping in Austin – someone at the store packed my bag for me at the checkout. I had no idea if I should slip this person a 5-er or not – if I did and they weren’t expecting it, it would make me look like a total weirdo but I was worried that if I didn’t they would follow me out and slash my shopping bags.

*sigh.

Thankfully, after almost 5 years I have gotten rather jiggy with the whole tipping malarkey – to the point that I now really enjoy it. It’s lovely to tip someone who works their arse off and offers you a great service. A large part of my income is from people who are kind enough to tip me when I play music (and write blogs 😉 ). I’m always blown away by the generosity of total strangers. It’s pretty amazing and a beautiful thing.

Because of being an itinerant musician often working for tips, if I’m ever somewhere that requires me to pull out cash from my wallet, it would appear to most people as if I’d been working down the clock tower the night before (American Translation: turning a few tricks).

I can assure you it is ALL from musical activities 🙂

I keep a large stash of these notes for tipping, and here’s what happens next.

I take each note and write a message on it. A positive, uplifting sentence. Nothing too epic, just something that I think someone at some point may need to see. If I sit quietly and relax the words come to me.

You matter. You’re doing great. You got this. Everything will be ok. Don’t give up.

You get the general idea.

Basically, if you were having a shitty day what would you like to read?

Once I’ve written my messages I do some positive-juju magic.

Yep, here comes the tree-huggin-hippy-crap 😉

I would not class myself as a religious person, even though I find the subject fascinating. I am however very spiritual and if anything I am of a Buddhist leaning. For this next bit, I use the Medicine Buddha mantra – but if praying in a Christian way is more your bag that’s cool, or if you’re not religious at all then just thinking really good thoughts would totally work.

The reason I choose the Medicine Buddha and his mantra is because he heals suffering of all kinds (physical and mental) and helps people towards enlightenment.

In today’s world we’d call him a bit of a badass.

Here’s the short version of the mantra:

Tayata
Om Bekandze Bekandze
Maha Bekandze
Radza Samudgate Soha

Which means:
May the many sentient beings
who are sick,
quickly be freed from sickness.
And may all the sicknesses of beings
Never arise again.

The way it works is you repeat the mantra 7 times. The first round of 7 you think of the whole world and send out your healing thoughts to everyone. Then you do the next round for the person (or in my case $1 bills) you’re wanting to help. You can never do this mantra for yourself, only for others.

After I’ve written on and put good juju into my $1 bills, they go into my wallet, ready to head out into the world to do their hippy-dippy magic.

Maybe the next person to hold one of these bills wont even notice anything. Maybe it’ll take a few passing of hands before someone sees it, or maybe no-one will ever notice it at all. Whether someone sees it or not doesn’t matter. I am a believer in energy and the power of intention and I also believe this can be passed from one person to another in both a positive or negative way. So someone may well not consciously notice anything when they come into contact with this bill, but subconsciously it will affect them. In the same way that if someone is having a terrible day and then makes me food, their energy and intension will travel into what I’m eating and make me feel like crap. Have you ever been in a room full of people and the energy of a single person entering can totally change the whole atmosphere, again, in a good OR a bad way. I believe that we are constantly giving off this energy where ever we go. If you’re having a great day, I will feel it. If you’re having a shitty day, by the same token, I will feel it. Personally, I am super sensitive to what is put out (this is often bloody annoying and inconvenient), which is why I find being in a large crowds of people overwhelming. I’m still very much working on how to walk around public places without soaking this up like a sponge, which varies a lot from one day to another.

I know a lot of folks will probably think I’m totally wasting my time, which is ok. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am. Who knows. ❤

A little while ago I watched a brilliant 8 hour long BBC production called Around the World in 80 Faiths.  Anglican victor Pete Owen-Jones researched various faiths from around the world and created this fascinating documentary. Towards the end of the series he got to witness a religion where they try and minimize hurting others. It is very extreme. The lady they spent time with only ate salads and before each meal she had a gaggle of people inspecting each and every leaf to make sure no other living creatures were on there. She also carried a duster around with her and she swept the ground ahead of her before walking as well as sweeping everywhere before she sat down.

Yes, I will admit it does all sound a little bonkers. But you know, as crazy and extreme as it may sound, I would much rather someone be so kind and caring that they selflessly dedicate their entire lives to not hurting other beings than the complete opposite, which would be not giving a crap about anyone or anything but yourself.

Could I do that? Errr, no! 😉 But I can’t help having the upmost respect for people like her. And whether this lady is totally wasting her time or not, I don’t think the world is worse off for having someone like her in it.

So what do you think? Would love to know your thoughts!

Connections.

It’s a funny old thing you know, being from one place and living some place else. It’s wonderful because you get to see and experience stuff in a way that others probably take for granted or haven’t even noticed. For example, one of my favourite American things are drive-through banks. Being from a tiny little country town in the UK, I didn’t even know such a thing existed.

You mean, I don’t have to spend hours trying to find a parking space, walk up the high street to the bank, stand in a queue for 20mins, finally pay in my money and then walk back to my car in the pouring rain?

Nope. You drive up, pay in money and drive off. You don’t even need to get out of your car.

Drive-through banks. They are pretty darn cool.

There is a downside to being someone from somewhere else, and that is you always feel like a part of you is missing. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Austin ❤ It really feels like home to me. I love the people and (obviously) the music. But just lately I have been terribly homesick and I don’t have anyone to share this feeling with. It’s the kind of emotion you can’t really relate to unless you have moved from one country to another. Even though it’s still English speaking, when I arrived in Texas almost 5 years ago it was a bit of a culture shock. Before moving to Austin I’d lived in the same area of Devon for 33 years. I thought I’d have an idea of what this epic move would feel like. I was incredibly naïve and totally clueless. At times it’s a kind of loneliness you can’t even imagine and it’s difficult to describe. I miss my connections to the things that make me who I am. Such as the lingo. The British humour. The accents. The beaches. The farmland. The rolling hills of Devon. Fish and Chip shops. Packets of crisps. Jacket potatoes cooked on a bonfire. The beach jams with friends.

I have this big empty void inside of me, longing for all of these things and so much more.

I’ve missed out on almost 5 years of my dog’s life. She’s now 12 years old and lives with my parents. Don’t worry, she is spoilt rotten – eating 3 meals a day, going on Molly-walks twice a day and having an array of sofas and chairs in varying shapes / sizes / colours to choose from.

A little while back I wrote a FB post about my sweet Molly dog. She’s basically like a cat trapped inside a dogs body. She’s the most un-dog-like dog I’ve ever met. She HATES having cuddles or a big fuss made of her, to the point that she will get up and walk into another room if you start doing that crap. Her version of affection is to be sitting fairly close to you. If she’s doing that you should feel very special indeed.

Molly also has a rather unusual list of phobias:

  • Hot air balloons
  • Microlights
  • Fluorescent jackets
  • Paper towels
  • People with white hair
  • Church bells

I’m possibly making her sound like an insensitive soul, but she’s so in-tune with what’s going on around her it’s crazy. If either my brother (who she adores) or I are travelling to my parents farm, Molly will be sat by the front door waiting for us:

And when we leave she gets extremely depressed and wont eat her food for a couple of days.

She’s beautiful, sweet and incredibly weird – which is why I love her so much ❤

I miss living close to the ocean. Austin is the first place in my whole life I’ve lived in-land and energetically it’s very different. You can feel that sea water isn’t nearby. When I lived in Devon I tried to go surfing and kayaking as much as possible. But even if I didn’t have time to go for a few days, it’s just nice to know the ocean is there. The moment you step outside your door you can feel it.

The River Dart was also one of my favourite hang out spots, especially for kayaking. You are constantly surrounded by nature. Multiple days we were greeted by a couple of sea lions who would pop up right next to our kayak, trying to figure out what the bloody hell we were doing 😉



The Moors. Holy crap I miss the Moors. Miles and miles and miles of absolutely nothing but beautiful scenery, tiny little 100s-of-years-old villages, rivers, wild horses and lots of gigantic rocks piled on top of each other (aka Tors). There’s a kind of stillness on the Moors that you can actually physically feel, it’s wonderful. My Ex and I used to take our VW campervan (called Bertie) up there. We’d go for a walk with Molly, come back to Bertie and have a nice mug of tea and cook up a couple of egg and fake bacon sandwiches. It was lovely.

And speaking of fake bacon – I really miss an English Breakfast on a Sunday morning, or more specifically – my Dad’s English Breakfast. He makes THE BEST breakfasts. Fact. And although he and my Mother are meat eaters he makes an absolutely killer vegetarian breakfast, made up of baked beans, hash browns, 2 free range fried eggs, grilled tomatoes (from my Mum’s vege plot), mushrooms, toast and of course – a cup of tea. So. Freakin. Good.

Which then leads me on to what I miss the most – my parents and their beautiful farm, which will soon be leaving our family (a story for another time).

If I see my folks once a year I’m doing pretty well. Weeks and months seem to drift by and on some days the distance between us is so difficult. When I’m at the farm I am completely at peace. Everything is connected again. I love doing various jobs around the place, walking Molly, laughing about silly (and usually inappropriate) crap with my parents and consuming way too many cups of tea. But on the flip side, as beautiful as everything is, there are literally zero musical opportunities for me. I used to work a day job AND play music, hoping that one day after all my hard work and dedication to the cause I’d finally become a full time musician and ‘make it’. No one (other than my parents) ever took any of this terribly seriously, and as the years went by even I began to doubt myself and question the path I was on. I had absolutely no idea that Austin would be a portal to a life I never thought possible. But in order to do what I know is my life’s purpose, I have to sacrifice getting to see the people and places that I love more than anything in the whole word.

Which is very hard.

6 years ago I co-wrote a song with a German singer-songwriter called Elli (she’s awesome btw, please check out her music). This song was called Sand for Stone and at the time, I obviously had no idea that it would relate to everything I’m experiencing right now. I recently started playing this song at my shows again, as I can finally sing it knowing exactly what these words mean.

Here’s the first Verse and Chorus:

I’d forgotten how, how much this means to me
And every second I’m here, takes me back where I used to be
With an open heart, an open mind
This freedom and expression, is something I cannot find
In you or I, no it’s something I’ll never find
In you or I

But the truth is I have no idea where to call home
And this place is in my heart where ever I go

Breathe in the air and let it free up your mind
I learnt the hard way
That I need space and time
Before I feel alive, before I feel alive
I don’t need much before, I’m in harmony
But life is so much harder
Now I’m switching sand for stone
And the ocean is my home.  

I guess all of the above might make me sound like a right whining whinny.

Well why don’t you bugger off back there if it’s so amazing?

you might be thinking. Believe me when I say that I love living in Austin and my life right now is so amazing. Honestly. I’m getting to live the life I’ve always wanted and I’m incredibly grateful for everything I have.

It’s just tricky sometimes. That’s all.

Thank you as always for reading this far ❤ Really appreciate it a whole lot. Hope to see you somewhere soon 🙂

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Battle of the Makeup People

A couple of blog posts back I wrote all about my new adventures into the magical and mystical world of makeup.

2 weeks have gone by and I’ve been extremely surprised by the way people reacted to that post.

Really surprised.

I’ve played probably 3 or 4 shows since then and before each gig I applied makeup. I followed the detailed instructions given to me by makeup Jedi Phoebe at the bareMinerals store in Austin (and quite frankly if I lose those instructions I’m screwed!).  After spending probably more time than necessary getting my face ready, I stepped out of the green room / bathroom / car with a face full of cosmetics.  I’m happy to report that no-one laughed at me and I didn’t make a complete tit out of myself.

Re-sult.

One thing that did happen at every single show, was a bunch of different people came up to me and shared their thoughts on this whole makeup malarkey – and more specifically, my original blog post.

There were a handful of in-betweeny people, but almost everyone I spoke to fitted very neatly into one of these two categories:

  • Category 1 – Super Happy People 🙂 

Hurrah! Yay! KM is finally wearing makeup!

These folks were upbeat and encouraging about the whole thing, saying it was wonderful that I was starting to think more about the way I present myself on stage and that it’s important to take pride in your appearance.

  • Category 2 – Mildly Offended People

Boo! Hiss! KM should NEVER wear makeup!!

These peeps were NOT impressed with it at all. They felt as though I wasn’t being true to who I am and that Katie Marie and Makeup are words that shouldn’t go together.  Over and over again I heard ‘you’re fine without makeup, so why wear it??‘.

This was all a big surprise to me – as to be honest, I thought my situation was pretty cut and dry.

I’m a girl.

Girls wear makeup.

Everyone thinks I should wear makeup.

I probably should. 

The end.

That’s not to say that I’m at all bothered by what people think – I’m really not.  I’m honestly ok not wearing makeup most of the time.  But just from a simple blog post I’ve learnt SO much about YOU.  I’ve discovered that there were a lot of people who in fact noticed that I don’t wear makeup and actually liked that about me.  I’ve also learned that there are a lot more makeup-phobic people out there than I realised.  But the main thing that struck me is that pro-makeup or against-makeup, everyone I spoke to genuinely cared about me and my approach towards this whole thing.  They were all supportive in their own way. ❤

One thing I do really want to make clear, is that this was a CHOICE I made.  I didn’t feel as though I needed to bow to peer-group-pressure or please others or that I’m not happy with how I look etc etc.  This is simply me presenting myself in a slightly different way.

Don’t get me wrong, I am NOT about to go through this whole bloody process outside of performing.  To plaster all that stuff on my face every single day seems annoying and rather time consuming to say the very least.

But for shows and photographs it’s kind of a necessity.  The stage lights tend to wash out your face, so that when you check out photos after a show it looks as though you don’t have a face or any features at all.

It’s weird.

With all that being said:

Whether you wear lots of makeup or none at all, you should ALWAYS do what ever makes YOU feel happy and comfortable.  If wearing a ton of makeup everyday makes you feel confident and able to face the world with a kickass attitude then good for you, that’s totally awesome.  By the same token, if wearing nothing at all or even just a smidgin every day is more your thing then that’s equally awesome.

The point is, I don’t ever want people to feel as though I’m trying to mask who I am, or changing into some fancy-super-fem-girly-girl.

I think we can safely assume that will never happen 😉

What ever you’re into, do it because it makes YOU feel happy.  What ever floats your boat is A-ok with me.  As with anything else in life, no one should be making you feel as though you should or shouldn’t do something.  Do it because it makes you feel empowered, happy, confident or anything else.  It’s all good.  There’s no right or wrong.

Thanks as always for reading this far, would love to know what you think.  Feel free to comment below with your thoughts 🙂

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It’s time for me to become…….a girl.

Don’t worry. You’re not about to read a surprising blog post with the revelation that actually Katie Marie is a dude – I already have boobs and a va-jay-jay, so fear not.

When I say it’s time for me to become a girl, I’m not talking about that kind of thing. I’m talking about a far more terrifying and complicated matter, well for me anyway.

For almost 40 years I have managed to survive completely without one thing that everyone of a female persuasion seems to know SO much about.

I’m talking about makeup.

The most I have ever applied to my own face is the odd bit of mascara before shows – which I started doing about 2 years ago. I can count on one hand how many times other people have applied full makeup to my face and when they do I always think I look silly.  Whether I actually look silly or not is another matter.  That’s how it makes me FEEL on the inside.

Figuring out what the bloody hell everything is and how to use it has always seemed like some super complicated math algorithm that only certain people seem to understand.

But after much deliberation – I have decided it’s time for me to knuckle down and get jiggy with some makeup math.

Part of the reason I haven’t ever thought about makeup is probably due me being a very outdoorsy, earthy kind of chick who comes from a little town (Totnes in Devon) known throughout the UK for its alternative ways.

I may not look like a hippy, but almost everything about me is hippy.

For example:

Heart = Hippy Heart.

Skin = Hippy Skin.

Blood = Hippy blood.

Hair = definitely Hippy Hair.

You get the general idea.

I’m a vegetarian of 30 years, I love animals, support local and indie places, drink green tea, buy organic food.

Blah blah hippy blah.

So when I lived in Totnes I would go surfing A LOT.  I loved feeling the energy of the ocean and believe it or not, the water provided me with my daily hair and beauty regime.

Trying to catch waves meant water bashing into my face fairly often.  The salt from the water made my skin feel so soft and cleansed (like a facial scrub).  I also loved salt water in my hair because it meant I didn’t have tons of fly-aways and it used to feel so healthy and thick (I’ve replaced all that with hair spray) and if I missed it I had a however-high wave go right into my face and up into my nose, clearing out all my sinuses (like a netty pot).

I have deduced that the water, combined with living on a farm AND me not being terribly girlie are all reasons why I have zero skills in the makeup department.

But (hopefully) that’s about to change.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m by no means planning on having a daily makeup routine. Not to say that there’s anything wrong with that at all. If daily makeup works for you then that’s awesome. It’s just not my thing.  To me it seems very exhausting / annoying / time consuming to do it aaalll the time, so this is purely for shows and photographs.

In order to figure it all out, I changed my mindset and tried thinking about makeup in exactly the same way as music.  It’s just another skill to learn.  I spent time teaching myself various things about the instruments I play, all I have to do now is apply that same mindset to makeup.

I knew it was going to take some very special person indeed to help me. Someone with Jedi-like knowledge.  Thankfully that magical person was Phoebe at the bareMinerals shop in Austin.

The bareMinerals store is basically a giant room made up of multiple mirrors and extremely white lights that instantly make you take on the appearance of a creature from the underworld, asking yourself do I really look THAT bad without makeup? 

Phoebe greeted me with a friendly smile and asked how she could help.  I truthfully told her that I have NO idea what I’m doing and needed some advice on where to start.

I’m not sure if at this point she thought I was exaggerating a little about my makeup knowledge, but she replied reassuringly with ‘oh that’s ok, sit yourself down on that chair and I’ll bring out some things I think you’ll need’.

A few minutes later Phoebe arrived back, armed with an eclectic mix of brushes and stuff.  Makeup stuff.

‘So!’ she said with much enthusiasm, ‘I brought out a few blushers and a bronzer you might like, as well as this primer which works amazingly well, aaaaand this is a really great eyeliner, oh and this is my favourite compact that has a selection of shadows that I use all the time. Also these are some of my go-to brushes, this one is great for foundation and this one here is great for under the eyes. Any questions before we start?’.

For a few moments I stared blankly at the mix of products spread out before me, trying not to feel utterly overwhelmed.  I responded with ‘Yes, I do have a question actually. Sooooo, what’s that?’.

‘Oh, which one?’ she asked.

‘Well, all of it’ I replied.

Oh dear. Poor Phoebe.

I was expecting her to look at me like I was a complete nincompoop, or at the very least give me an extremely disapproving glare and retort with something like I didn’t know people like you existed! 

Thankfully I was extremely wrong.

Phoebe just smiled and said ‘ok, let me go through each thing step by step – I’ll show you step by step how to use each and every item I have here so you’ll be able to do everything yourself just fine, if you have any questions as we go just ask’.

As you may have guessed, I had a TON of questions, all of which were probably very silly, but Phoebe was SO unbelievably patient and kind. I was sat there for a couple of hours while she showed me the ways of the Jedi makeup artist.  I learnt about ‘bronzer’ and ‘blush’ and what type of brushes work best when applying them. I found out how to apply mascara without looking like a clown. I took mental notes on absolutely everything and at the end of our session Phoebe very kindly wrote down each step so I could do it all myself.

I then bought myself a fancy starter kit with everything I need.  I would even go as far as to say opening the box was pretty exciting (now I know what the bloody hell everything is of course).

Thus far, my journey into Makeupland has been a lot less scary and more interesting than I thought it would be.

Blimey.

 

The photo below is all Phoebe’s handy work and my mission is to try and re-create it, armed with detailed instructions (of course!):

I chose bareMinerals because I wanted makeup that was paraben free and not tested on animals (see, I told you. Hippy).  I also couldn’t have picked a nicer person to get me started. Not once did Phoebe laugh at me or make me feel stupid or inferior.  She explained everything in a clear and concise way and even liked when I compared the Mineral Veil to washing your car and putting the wax on afterwards to keep everything on there 😉

And so, my makeup adventures have officially begun.  Wish me luck! And if you have any hints and tips feel free to comment below, I will probably need a lot of guidance 😉

❤ ❤

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Urg! and Grr! with a smidgin of WFT just happened?

I had this week’s blog post all planned out, like a good-well organised nerdy person.

Then this happened.

I’m going to regale you with an event that took place only last Saturday. And, if you have a crappy job, or you’re unhappy with the way you’re being treated by someone – you, ESPECIALLY YOU need to read this.

So, grab yourself a hot or cold beverage and get comfy-cozy, as some utterly bizzare real life sh*t is about to go down.

Last Saturday I had a show playing drums at an Austin venue called The Townsend.  This awesome little place is situated in one of my fav streets (Congress Avenue) and after a spot of setting up and sound checking, the wife and I decided to try and find a nice restaurant to have dinner.

We did much Google-ing and decided upon an Italian joint only a few blocks down heading in the direction of the capital building.

We walked in, got seated and proceeded to look at the menu.

So far, all very normal.

Our very nice waitress took our orders.  I went with the safe option of a margherita pizza.  Laran also ordered a cheese pizza, but asked if mushrooms could be added along with extra cheese.

Still, very normal.  But this is where things started to get a tad weird.

Our sweet waitress came back to us after putting the order in and said ‘just to let you ladies know I asked the chef if he could add mushrooms to your pizza and he said no.  So if it arrives without mushrooms just know that I did ask, ok?’.

A chef that wont put mushrooms on a pizza? That’s a new one.

Anyways….not important.  We just laughed about it and carried on with our conversation.

About 20mins or so later our food arrived.

My pizza looked like a pizza. Hurrah.

Laran’s however looked like a LOT of tomato and about 5 blobs of miniature mozzarella.  Zero mushrooms.

Laran asked the waitress (we’ll called her ‘Jane’ for the purposes of this story) if she could get more cheese on the pizza as that wasn’t going to be enough (duh). Jane was very apologetic but looked scared as hell….and we were about to find out why.

We watched from the very front of the restaurant as Jane walked all the way to the back, where you can clearly see the chef and the big pizza oven.  We continued to watch as she timidly handed him the pizza and presumably told him our request.

A few seconds later he threw the plate back across the counter and proceeded to throw a barrage of insults and verbal abuse in her direction.  It was so loud that we could hear it clearly from where we were seated up front.

Having stood there and just taken all of this, Jane walked back towards us, trying so hard not to cry.  ‘I’m not having that guy talk to her like that.  It’s not acceptable’  Laran said, quite right too.  Once Jane got closer to us, Laran asked ‘what’s the chef called?’. Before Jane had even finished the final syllable of this dude’s name, Laran was marching confidently towards him.

One thing I know from being married to this lady for the past 4.5 years, is that most of the time she’s very kind and sweet.  BUT, you *really* don’t want to get on the wrong side of her.  That being said, in these type of situations where there’s a male chauvinist a-hole involved who has absolutely zero respect for the people around him, it is the most gratifying thing on earth.

In the moments watching my wife walk towards the chef’s workstation, my inner nerd was like:

Now, I’m not in any way suggesting that my wife is a slobbering green monster who hides out in the ocean somewhere – just that she’s basically a pretty blonde haired version of the Kraken, with boobs.

Anyway.

For the first few seconds of their encounter, the chef (let’s name him ‘Bob’ for the purposes of this tale) attempted to speak to Laran the same way as the waitress he’d screamed at earlier. I’m assuming he thought Laran was going to react in a similar fashion.  He soon realised that was a very big mistake.

I looked on with extreme satisfaction and pride as a blonde haired chick put this guy in his place in an extremely short amount of time, informing him of how unacceptable it was to speak to his waitstaff like that, never mind the whole lack of cheese and mushroom situation.  Very quickly his body language changed, he stopped yelling and stood there as if no-one had ever talked back to him before in his entire life.

Another work college came out and apologised for his behaviour.  He also told us our meals were on the house.

We tried to get back to our original plan of sitting somewhere quietly and having a meal before my show. That was a tad tricky. But as crappy as our experience was, poor Jane had to STAY there and work. I watched as she quietly and apologetically served people, trying SO hard not to fall apart and burst into tears.

I worked out how much our meal was and gave it to Jane as a tip.  I told her that money was for HER, no-one else.  I also wanted her to know that she deserved respect and shouldn’t have to put up with someone yelling at her over really small stuff.

She thanked us.  We all hugged it out.  As we headed out the door Jane also told us that after Laran had ‘spoken’ to Bob, another table had ordered mushrooms on their pizza and the chef had put them on there as requested.

Surprise, surprise.

Maybe he needed someone to bring him back to reality.  Or more likely he was terrified that Laran would walk over there and remove parts of his male anatomy if he didn’t add mushrooms or cheese to anyone’s order.

As we were walking back to The Townsend I felt a huge mixture of relief, gratitude and sadness.

Relief – that we were the ones that happened to and could deal with it in a firm but kind way.

Gratitude – that my life and my job as a musician is so wonderful and amazing.

Sadness – that there are people who HAVE to put up with that kind of crap, for what ever reason….and if you’re one of those people, listen up.

Before I was able to become a full time musician, I had countless awful, terrible and super stressful jobs.  More often than not, there was an arsehole on the team and 2 jobs in particular I was basically Jane.  I was the one getting yelled at (once by a chef) over really nothing at all.  I too had to keep it together and carry on serving people.  Putting on a happy face.  Trying not to burst into a flood of tears for all to see.

I want you to know 2 things.

  1. You DESERVE to be treated with respect. Period. The end. If you are like Jane, please do me a favour.  Walk away. I promise you life will get so much better when you start putting your energy into positive rather than negative people and situations. Believe me when I tell you that I know EXTREME poverty.  I know what it’s like to HAVE to work that horrible job or you can’t eat or pay bills.  But all the while you’re around that type of energy, the good stuff can’t get to you.  Leap and the net will appear.  I promise you it will appear.
  2. Everything will be ok in the end.  I endured so many awful jobs for a looooong time and I can tell you that my life right now is AMAZING.  I wake up EVERY SINGLE DAY doing what I love.  I get paid to play, record and teach MUSIC! You can do ANYTHING you set you mind to.  Don’t lose hope.  Don’t give negativity the attention and energy it doesn’t deserve.

When they go low we go high – Michelle Obama

Thanks as always for reading this far.  Sending lots of good and positive vibes to all the Janes out there.  You got this!! ❤

 

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