Latest Musings in the Life of Katie Kaboom

Katie Kaboom was one of my nicknames I earned from my mother. Remember the cartoon? Steven Spielberg Presents Animaniacs (1993), where several wacky characters had mini-episodes of their own, featured 5 episodes of Katie Kaboom: a teenage girl with a literal explosive reaction to everyday teenage issues.

Piggy-backing on my stellar "crunchy munchy" fit as a toddler, I spent my adolescence lashing out and making noise: wailing and sobbing instead of crying, and arguing at full tilt. Fights with my sister were knock-down and drag-out. Fingernails were powerful torture devices; shoes were projectile weapons. If this sounds familiar, then you will understand why it's funny to revisit that side of yourself as an adult. In a way, it's helpful, too. I think it helps me answer "Why am I the way I am? Why this pursuit of happiness instead of another?"

It's not fair to blame my parents, but it comes down to the fact that the Fleming family argued(s). A lot. We, the Fleming children, were/are, as a result, encouraged to voice our opinions. Wait! Not merely opinions, but well thought-out, structured hypotheses with supporting factual elements. It's exhausting.

Of course, one requirement of arguing effectively, whether in formal debate or explosive madness, is a flair for language, use of projection and clear speech, and an ability to persuade...to make those listening understand, internalize, and believe what you express. OK!? See where this is going, yet?

Kids who grow up to be actor/singer/dancers do it for one of two reasons: Either the kid is shy and needs to be brought out of her shell, or she is rowdy, emotionally-charged, and creative and needs an outlet. [Unfortunately, kids "nowadays" who (and whose parents) buy into the Generation Idol mentality think they all can be performers.] My parents and I knew very early on that I had a gift for performance...or at least being annoying. My stage was wherever I could find it: rain-slicked concrete--I fell and busted my chin open and needed stitches; a stone slab over a gravesite--there's actually a picture of this one; church, school, playground, bathroom (um...can anybody say "great acoustics"?), anywhere.

So, as a grown-up...this is what happened:
With the talent for performance + the talent for persuasion in argument+ encouragement to think through ideas+ the need for an outlet for emotional expression+ ability to be really LOUD, I became an opera singer...an opera singer who feels release much like her alter ego Katie Kaboom. Those of you who sing know that a free voice is a powerful voice. The eruption of sound from the body is primal and runs deep in connection with the spiritual/emotional side of being human: Violent and Beautiful at the same time. So, singing for me, as it turns out, is a creative and pleasant way to go "KABOOM!" I have gotten used to this release so much over my years of study and performance that, when trying to express my thoughts in just plain words, I actually wish it were socially acceptable to burst into song! No...really. or at least carry my guitar around to provide background music for a conversation. :)


For now, I'm singing a little less than what I consider normal, and am stifled from not feeling that specific kind of release. Some days, I feel Katie Kaboom tugging at my sleeve, reminding me that I still have access to the disastrous, adolescent reaction to everyday life. Those days, I try to find the reset button.

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I am rehearsing for a play right now, though, so that is some outlet for expression, but it comes nowhere close to the

I'm a tight-rope walker...

skier on the moguls...

edge of disaster or triumph, who knows?...

let-'er-rip...

extremely high on life.......and GET IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM!...

experience that is singing.

Trying to put it into words trivializes it, but I had to.
Try, that is.

Will someone please give Katie Kaboom a singing job so she doesn't kill her family and everyone she loves?!

Thanks for listening.