Soundtrack of My Life

A.A. asks, "Dear Miss Kitty,

I hope you are well and wearing an easy smile.

What songs would make up your Soundtrack of My Life (so far)?

Thank you as always."

Hi, A.A..

I want to apologize for the delay in answering your question. I knew this would be a sort of epic answer and wanted to give it the proper, full attention it deserves, so it took a little while. But here goes.

I think a lot of people know by now that music has played a very important role in my life, with different styles carrying more importance at different times than others. But let's start with the early stuff and move to the later, shall we?

One of my earliest music associations (beyond my mom bringing her guitar into my preschool classroom and playing for us) still has to do with my mom. I remember dancing to Sultans of Swing in the living room with my mom one New Year's Eve, I think it was. One of the first ones when I was allowed to stay up late enough to enjoy New Year's Eve. This was also my first exposure to East Coast Swing dancing, which translated into my love of lindy hop much later on. Which, of course, leads us to Love Me or Leave Me, which may be my favorite song to dance to ever. And the greatest piano solo ever. Though I once saw a claymation short done to My Baby Just Cares for Me that made me totally fall in love with dance and music and Aardman Animations and made me wish I had a baby who just cared for me.

There are a million other swing songs that should probably get a mention in here - Mr. Pinstripe Suit because I loved Big Bad Voodoo Daddy and saw them on my 21st birthday and they all took pictures with me and signed a dollar bill for me which was later stolen and Dirk was so lovely remembering that I made a total asshole out of myself the first time I saw them live, and because it was in anticipation of that concert that I taught the boy I was in love with at the time how to dance so I could make him go with me; Buzz Buzz Buzz by the Mighty Blue Kings because of all the arguments that boy and I had about who was the better neo swing band; Sing Sing Sing because my next dance partner would always try to time our entrance into the jam so that our sailor kicks hit the music at exactly the right point (which is why I don't do sailor kicks anymore); Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen because of the neo swing movement's obsession with Swing Kids until we all figured out the dancing in that movie is not what we should be emulating on the dance floor (though it's still a fun tune to dance to and gosh darn it, Robert Sean Leonard is hot); Fly Me to the Moon, especially as sung by Blossom Dearie because that's what I got engaged to, though just about anything by Blossom Dearie is dreamy - I Won't Dance, I'm Hip, Blossom's Blues, Rhode Island is Famous For You is the one my dance partner and I were going to choreograph a routine to, you get the idea; and of course It Ain't What You Do for the shim sham and all of the amazing times and locations wherein I did the sham sham - the benefit for a dancer with cancer (which then led to a pie in the face), Frankie's memorial, various exchanges, etc. (and I know that clip is not of It Ain't What You Do, but I though the Frankie memorial was more important to link to, for everything that man brought to the world of dance); and Get Your Girl #1 by Vargas Swing because I had such a crush on Dawn Webber and they gave me free socks at one of their shows. I think it's safe to say that swing/lindy/jazz type music has played a big part in my life and will always hold good memories for me, but perhaps it's time to move on to the next genre? Otherwise, we'll be here all day.

There have been some random, scattered tunes that were playing at just the right moment in my life to leave such an impression that I sometimes I can't listen to them anymore. I remember sobbing in my car on my way from my dad's house to my mom's house in high school listening to the chorus of Regret by New Order because life was just too much and I can barely listen to the song now. Stay, Insanity, Mary, and Dead Man's Party by Oingo Boingo have all held special significance for me at one point or another - wanting the boy to stay, keeping me company on a lonely family vacation, the story of my life, and needing to dance so badly at my first rock and roll concert ever that I'm sure I injured my friend upon whose shoulders I was sitting. And by extension, Sally's Song from The Nightmare Before Christmas because I made that costume one year and rocked it, and asked my friend to teach me the song so I would be prepared just in case anyone asked me to sing it. Which no one did. Shit, let's throw in Useless, Water, and Change, too. I found Boingo (or Boingo found me) when I really needed them and I will always love Danny Elfman for that very reason.

Speaking of finding artists at exactly the right time, Bob Dylan. I have to put It Ain't Me Babe on this list because it's my theme song and I love to cover it. But yeah, found him exactly when I need him and I love the gravelly voice. It soothes my heart.

Crap, this is getting long and wordy. I'm going to be brief and random for a bit. Sorry about that.

I found Moby one summer and he kind of changed my life. I still fantasize about putting together a huge dance routine to Run On that combines lindy, charleston, hip hop and other crap. I've been to three or four Moby shows and they are incredible. I can't not dance to Go when it comes on and when he plays it at his shows, I have to jump. The entire time.

(I would like also like to do a similar dance style mash up performance thing to Come On Now by the John Butler Trio. One Way Road is also rather brilliant.)

And while we're on kind of techno type stuff, I have to mention Sander Kleinenberg, who played the best techno show I have ever seen at RedNo Five in Chicago. I have no idea what the records were he was spinning - some of them were white labels - but sweet jebus, that man can blow the roof off of a club. And he's really nice to look at, too. Really nice. Watching him spin that night was when I learned that if you bop your head backward on the downbeat instead of forward, it sits in the music better. Like starting a cha-cha on the two.

Right about now is when I feel like I should mention (for those of you who don't know) that I also write music. I usually attribute this to a couple of people - the guy who is the current face of the USPS "If it fits, it ships" campaign, another college friend, and Liz Phair. The first Liz Phair song I heard that I identified with her was Polyester Bride, and this was also the first song of hers I learned to cover. But then I went back and heard Flower and remembered hearing it at college parties, so I guess technically, that was my first exposure to Liz Phair. There was a time when I hung out on the Liz Phair message boards quite a bit, and I ended up writing a "clean" version of the song that included the phrase "You can be my personal Yoda." I was kind of proud of that. I think my favorite Liz song, though, is The Divorce Song. I was proud when I learned how to play that one, too, and practicing one of the little chord blips is what eventually led to my own song Astoria Park. That, and hanging out in Astoria Park one day. Which is a favorite of my friend in Texas who I met on the Liz Phair message boards.

But once I started writing my own music, it took a little while before I was comfortable playing it for other people. My song Allowed was sort of a gateway song for me in that respect - it gave me the confidence to play out in front of people because this fellow swing dancer guy friend of mine liked it. And it is actually about my infatuation with another swing dance instructor. I guess it all comes back to swing dancing, doesn't it?

But the fact that I was now playing my own music led me to an open mic in New York City one night where I met another bald musician I would become infatuated with. He played his song Gaslight (Oh Tomorrow) and the crush started, so of course I had to find the rest of his music. Shepherd makes me weep every time. And his song Indiana is what my song Nothing More is in response to, which is only really worth noting because Nothing More is the only love song I've ever written.

Love songs. I was in New York almost a year ago, feeling rather rotten about my station in life, and I had a bit of time to kill on my own before heading to the airport, so I took a vegan blueberry muffin into Central Park and sat on a bench to eat it while listening to my iPod. In These Arms came on and I had one of those moments wherein the world is so full of beauty that you are humbled and grateful for the brief time you have to participate in it and all you can really do is cry. I keep meaning to thank Glen Hansard/Marketa Irglova/The Frames for that, and for some of their other songs like People All Get Ready, Say it to Me Now, and When Your Mind's Made Up. Actually, I just keep meaning to thank Glen Hansard for his existence. (For her own part, Marketa Irglova is adorable, too. Met her after a show in Chicago and she was delightful and so normal but has this amazing energy I don't find in a lot of other women.)

I have had the opportunity to thank Mike Doughty for his music - he personally keeps his Facebook page and responds to fans. Your Misfortune soothes my soul when it's really hurting. It's kind of funny to me that I love Mike Doughty now because I went through this brief trip-hop period wherein I was introduced to Soul Coughing and then didn't really think about them again until Looking at the World From the Bottom of a Well came on the radio. I've now seen him play live two or three times and own five or six records? I also met a guy who said he was friends with the girl about whom Unsingable Name was written.

But I did come back around to Mike Doughty, in large part due to WXRT, the best radio station in Chicago. This station also introduced me to Mumford and Sons, by way of Little Lion Man. Their whole first album is amazing. The Cave and Awake My Soul are a couple more that are always in my playlists. Though I still think he looks wrong for that voice. I wanted him to be this sort of shriveled, withered man who tanned and smoked too much as a kid.

WXRT was also the first radio station to play one of my songs - Hamburg. I got my tattoo that day, too.

I feel like I should mention that growing up, I listened to a lot of Billy Joel and ABBA, for whatever that is worth. I should probably say that the first 45rpm record I bought for myself was I Think We're Alone Now by Tiffany, largely so I can show that my taste in music has improved significantly as I've gotten older. My brother wouldn't let me play that record when he was around, so I said he couldn't play Patience by Guns 'n Roses. My physical appearance has led me to a certain affinity for Baby Got Back, and my relationship status kind of makes me like Single Ladies, though I don't think it was the best video ever made. That title goes to Take On Me. The first songs my mom taught me to play on the guitar were Scarlet Ribbons and The Boxer, which led to a particularly funny moment during a show when someone dropped a tray of dishes in the kitchen at the exact right moment in the chorus. When I was in Spain, my favorite songs to hear at our favorite club were Sister Golden Hair and Mr. Jones by the Counting Crows.

And I have a sort of love-hate relationship with Beethoven's Ode to Joy because of A Clockwork Orange and Immortal Beloved. In one, it is so beautiful; in the other, it is horrifying. Such is the power of music.

Baba O'Riley has to be on there, although most stuff by The Who and Led Zepplin just remind me of the SNES game F-Zero, because I used to watch my brother play that game for hours while we listened to classic rock in his room. He had the warmest room in the house, and Christmas lights around his ceiling, so it was fun. Good times with classic rock and video games.

Sweet jebus, this is long. I think the most important thing one can take away from this is that if someone were to actually create a soundtrack of my life, there would most certainly be something on there that everyone likes, and it wouldn't leave you in one place for too long before taking you on some new emotional journey or back to some beloved memory of your own.

But I do want to throw up one more link here, to a song that I can only listen to sometimes, but in many ways, it best encapsulates where I feel I am in my life right now. Thanks, Colin.

Thank you, A.A. for your question! Keep 'em coming guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com

Facebook Parents

D.N. asks, "I read the following on an old high school friend's Facebook status update this week.

'My daughter just came home from school and ran to her room, slamming the door. Even though she's got the music turned up pretty loud, I can still hear her heartbreaking sobs of anguish through her door. I try and I try to get her to talk to me, but she just asks me to leave her alone no matter how many times I tell her to confide in me. All I can think is that something horrible happened to her at school today. Doesn't she know that I went to high school too and could probably solve whatever her silly little problem is? Somebody please tell me what to do!'

What followed was an exceptionally long list of comments, all of which empathized with the mother before going off on their own kids' selfish behavior.

No one, especially the mom in this case, stopped to think that, gee maybe something horrible DID happen at school that day. Maybe it was all the young woman could do to simply 'hold it together' until the end of the day where she could (supposedly) seek refuge in the only 'safe' place she has to go to. Maybe the only thing that could be possibly WORSE than whatever happened is to have her mom -- IN A PUBLIC FORUM -- THAT HER 'FRIENDS' FROM SCHOOL CAN EASILY ACCESS -- complain about her level of distress and her supposed selfishness for not wanting to immediately share the 'silly' details of her 'silly' problem.

My question, I guess, is this. Are Facebook parents the most narcisistic generation of parents in the history of the world? Or are we just the dumbest?

D. N."

Hi, D.N.

I don't think this is necessarily a case of Narcissism or stupidity. Let me explain. No, there is too much; let me sum up. Buttercup is marry Humperdink in little less a half an hour. All we have to do is get in, break up the wedding, steal the princess, and make our 'scape. After I kill Count Rugen.

Sorry, got a little distracted there. Back on track.

I think we need to look at this in the proper context. Parents today have to deal with all sorts of things that parents of previous generations didn't have to think about at all. The whole concept of "adolescence" is only about 100 years old - prior to that, you were a kid who became an adult. That's it. And the more we explore adolescence, the more confusing it becomes. Nowadays, you're Satan's Mistress if you spank your child, but not so long ago, children received regular beatings all in the name of "teaching them good manners." Children used to go to school and then come directly home to help out with the chores on the farm (or around the house) instead of sleeping through classes and then coming home to play World of Warcraft for six hours before bed. I'm not saying things like drugs and alcohol and sex weren't as big a deal back then, but the way we handle our children and their problems is different now. The way our children behave in school is different than it used to be, too. How many girls do you see in photographs from the 1880's wearing cut-off t-shirts and mini skirts? Not so many, right? But the way girls dress now invites all kinds of fun new slurs, taunting remarks, and derogatory terms. And we, as parents, need to learn how to help our kids through the torture chamber known as the public education system.

So your friend's kid came home all upset about something and not wanting to talk about it. Okay. Your friend wanted to talk to her kid and try to help and that is a good thing. She should be commended for her impulse. The kid should not be lambasted for her choice to not want to talk to her mom. What if the problem is that the other kids at school were teasing her for some rumor that the mom is a slut? Or what if she was found in the janitor's closet with a varsity football player and neither of them was wearing any pants? These are not the sort of things you want to talk to your mom about. In the case of the first thing, nobody wants to have to ask their mom if she is a slut because neither answer is a good one. If she's not, you look like an ass for asking in the first place and if she is, you get to have nightmares for the rest of your natural born life. And no teenage girl wants to talk to her mom about her super secret sex life for fear her mother will chime in with some story about her super secret sex life when she was a teenager and we're back to having nightmares for the rest of your natural born life again.

I guess it is possible that the issue at school was something that might not be completely mortifying to talk to one's own mother about. Maybe she got a bad grade on a test or tripped on her own shoelace walking down the hall. But what the mom needs to realize is that everyone processes things in their own way. Maybe what the kid needs is to curl up in bed and listen to music for a while until the embarrassment dies down a bit and she can talk about it. The simple fact that the mother considers whatever is causing her daughter's "heartbreaking sobs of anguish" is a "silly little problem," means that there is some sort of disconnect happening here. And maybe the daughter knows her mom will think the problem is silly and wants to be a little more composed before they chat about it so she can show her mom that really, she is fine as opposed to her mom laughing it off with, "I was in high school once, too, you know."

And the other thing about the "I was in high school once, too, you know," defense. Yes, you were. But you have not been in high school for several years. You may remember that "the love of your life" dumped you two weeks before the prom, but since that time, you met your husband who proved to be the real love of your life and you've had kids and you have a mortgage now and have been to seventeen fancy dress fundraisers so the whole prom thing isn't that big of a deal anymore. It's called "healing and moving on." Yes, you lived through it and came out on the other side. No, you don't actually remember what it was like when it happened. You have the luxury of looking at the event through Detachment Glasses. When you remember it, you look back on a younger version of yourself who you know has great things in store. But you have forgotten what it felt like to not see good things in store for you down the line. So in order to understand what your daughter is going through, you need to put it in terms of your own life where you are now. Maybe her boyfriend dumped her. Imagine your husband came home one day, packed a suitcase, and left you for his secretary. That is how she's feeling now. Empathize with that, as opposed to minimizing her problem as some silly high school trifle.

Which brings us back around to Facebook. I think the mom has the right to ask her friends for help in this situation, because I'll let you in on a little secret: none of us know what we're doing. Parents (the good ones, anyway) always think they're going to fuck up their kids and that is the most terrifying thought in the world. Your friend is wondering if she's a bad mom for letting her daughter cry, or if she's a bad mom for trying to force her daughter to talk. It feels like a no-win situation. She wants to help and doesn't know how. So she asks her friends for advice. I think that's okay. I think the problem is that the friends take sides. They should know better than to bash a kid on Facebook for having a bad day.

So to answer your question, Facebook parents are not narcissistic, nor are they dumb. They're confused and lost and reaching out for help, just like the rest of us. And no, the daughter is not being selfish because she wants to process her horrible day in her own way. The mom is right to be concerned, but at the moment, it probably best for her to let her daughter know that she is there, she loves her no matter what, and then wait for the daughter to come talk to her in her own time. But yeah, the mom's friends are probably making things worse in their attempts to comfort the mom. They should watch that.

Thank you, D.N. for your question! Keep 'em coming, guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com

Too Far?

M.A. asks, "I made a Facebook page for my cat. Have I gone too far?"

My initial reaction to this question was, "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes," but then I had to give it a bit more thought. Because while I'm sure you may be actually offending your cat instead of honoring your cat (more on that in a minute), we, of course, have to consider what is "too far."

You're familiar with LOLcats, yes? How could you not be? I currently have this guy hanging on my cubicle wall at work because he just makes me giggle every time I look at him. With his little tongue sticking out. So cute. And I love LOLcats - I really do. But I am almost positive that there are some cats on there into whose mouths words were placed that do not belong there. For example, I created this one with my cat, based on his undying love of my yoga mat. But then two other people recaptioned it, one of them naming my cat "Millie." His name is not "Millie." And while the caption is kind of funny, I know (because we've chatted about it) that those were not the thoughts running through my cat's head at the time. And he was a little offended by the fact that someone thought his tan was fake.

The point I'm trying to make here is that unless your cat gets to update his/her own Facebook page, or has some sort of creative control over the content, you may find that you are actually completely mis-representing your cat to the rest of the cats on Facebook. And the rest of the humans, for that matter. So I'd just be careful what you put up there. If you post, "ate mouse today and LOL'd" as a status update and wake up with scratches all over your face, well, you'll really only have yourself to blame.

But then I read this article on Cracked.com (fantastic site, by the way, if you're into the whole random factoid kind of thing, which I totally am). Go ahead and take the minute or two to read the thing. Or just skip to the number one entry. Yeah. That, I think, would constitute going too far. As Janeane Garofalo said in The Truth About Cats and Dogs, "It's okay to love your pets, just don't love your pets." Or bang and eat them.

So in that context, no, I don't think creating a Facebook page for your cat it going too far. Just be careful what you post there or you might, you know, suddenly have a very unpleasant living situation at home.

Thank you, M.A. for your question! Keep 'em coming, guys! askmisskittyanything@gmail.com