What is Searching for Stars?

It's a multimedia memoir — part book, part mixtape, part constellation of memory. Think of it as stories pixelated through sound, image, and nostalgia — a place where music and memory echo together. Imagine getting to know a new friend through her mixtape of memories, each story another piece of a constellation slowly taking shape, like sitting together in a fireside chat beneath the stars.

What does "musical echolalia" mean?

Echolalia is when words or sounds repeat — like echoes that return without being invited. Musical echolalia is how songs and lyrics loop in memory, shaping how we feel, remember, and even communicate. It's the heartbeat of this project.

Is this a book, a blog, or something else?

It's all three, and none at once. Searching for Stars is a living memoir told in fragments — part website, part audio archive, part retro dream. Imagine a mixtape that keeps unfolding into chapters.

Who is this project for?

For readers. For music lovers. Nostalgia chasers. For kids of the 80s, 90s, and 2000s — and for anyone who's ever pressed rewind on a memory. It's for seekers of light in the dark, and for those who feel music deep within their soul. It's for the little girl inside me who dreamed of being a writer, who thought in music video formation and remembered in lyrics long before she had words to explain it. It's for anyone who carries loops of sound and story in their mind and is still searching for ways to make sense of them. It's for my children — the living record of my life and the love story their father and I have built — so they will always know who I was, and how they inspired me to finally share my voice.

The pixel art style was inspired by our kids' love of old-school Nintendo and Sega games — a love my husband and I were proud to pass on to them. Memory itself often feels pixelated — fragments, pieces, little glowing squares that come together into something whole. Vivid sensory-filled memories, retro games, mixed CDs, VHS tapes, and the texture of nostalgia. I usually start with real photos from my life or family albums, then run them through tools like ChatGPT, Canva, and PicsArt, cropping, layering, remixing, and refining until it feels right. The visual art helps bring the stories to life like a pixelated scrapbook.

Can I listen as well as read?

Yes — the site weaves together audio narration, Spotify soundtracks, and pixel art. Each story has its own soundtrack, so you can hear the memory as you read it. You can also listen to the project in its entirety on Spotify, or hear the Searching for Stars soundtrack.

Where should I start?

Anywhere. That's the beauty. The project is a constellation, and you can enter from any star. It never happens in order — it comes in bursts, like shooting stars revealing their story one streak at a time. Certain images throughout the site are clickable, leading you to other pieces that share similar characters, themes, memory vibes, or synced timelines. Small bridges between stories that hum with the same rhythm.

Will this become a book?

That's the dream. Searching for Stars is being built as a digital-first memoir, but its fragments are already shaping into a printed constellation. Someday, you'll hold it in your hands like a mixtape for the soul.

How can I support the project?

Read. Listen. Share. Tell a friend who loves music. Post your favorite piece, or just press play. Every echo helps keep the stars alive.

What inspired Searching for Stars?

It was born from a lifelong love of music, memory, and storytelling — from mixtapes passed between friends, to songs that became soundtracks for entire chapters of my life. It's both a personal archive and an invitation for others to remember alongside me.

Is this project autobiographical?

Yes — it's my story, but told through music, movies, and memory loops that connect to something bigger. While it's personal, it's also universal, because the songs that shaped me are the same songs that have carried so many others, too.

Echoes of a Pirate Song: A Punk, a Pirate, and a Pentecostal Mom

Dear Kids,

Before you ever shouted, “We are the pirates who don’t do anything!” at the top of your lungs, I did too.

Sort of.

Not in the way you do now barefoot, spinning in circles, your little voices echoing through the house, collapsing in giggles before pressing “play” again. No, when I first heard this song, I was sixteen, sitting in the back of my Pentecostal boyfriend’s mom’s car, trying to pretend I was too cool to care.

To be clear, I was not a pirate. And I was definitely not doing nothing.

I was a punk kid dating a Pentecostal boy with a very strict mother, sitting next to him and one of his two younger brothers, being ferried to school, church, restaurants, anywhere and everywhere by his mom. And every single time it seemed we got into that car, a cd that included this song was playing.

Not always the original VeggieTales version...no, sometimes it was the Relient K cover from the Jonah movie soundtrack. And somehow, that little detail made all the difference.

Relient K was one of those bands that existed in the strange Venn diagram of Christian music and pop-punk. They had just enough of a Warped Tour sound to feel rebellious but also enough Jesus in their lyrics that Pentecostal moms let their kids blast them at full volume. And so, every morning, there I was awkward teenage me, clad in band tees and too much eyeliner, squeezed between my boyfriend and his little brother bouncing in their seats as we sailed full-speed into yet another day of high school with “We Don’t Do Anything” as our soundtrack.

I never admitted it then, but… I kind of loved it.

Even if I acted like I was rolling my eyes, I knew every word.

I knew the harmonies.

I knew the way his little brothers shouted the lyrics with absolute joy, like it was the greatest thing they’d ever heard.

And I knew (though maybe I never said it) that his mom was a bright light in my world.

She didn’t have to drive me.

She didn’t have to make space for me in her life.

She didn’t have to take me to Church every week.

She didn’t have to let her son date some weird little punk girl from a family with a bad reputation.

But she did.

And somehow, this ridiculous pirate song became a soundtrack to it all.

Now.

The TV screen flickers. A familiar jingle starts playing.

From across the house, I hear the stampede of little feet.

Then, in perfect harmony like a VeggieTales gospel choir led by very enthusiastic small humans I hear it:

“We are the pirates who don’t do anything!”

You know every word.

Every. Single. Word.

And so do I.

I should’ve seen this coming.

I should’ve been mentally prepared for this moment.

Because I’ve been here before.

Not on this couch.

Not in this living room.

Not as a mom, watching my kids lose their minds over a song about doing nothing.

But in a different time, in a different place, hearing this song for the first time in the backseat of a car, sitting next to kids who sang it just like you do now.

I know these lyrics because they never really left.

Because music, even the silliest kind, has a way of sticking to you.

And now, here we are.

All these years later, I’m watching you belt out the same ridiculous song I once heard in that car only this time, I’m not pretending to be too cool for it.

This time, I sing along.

Because maybe that’s the real magic of songs like this.

Maybe it’s not about the lyrics or the melody, but the way they carry you through time.

Maybe it’s about the places they take you back to.

And the people who were kind to you when they didn’t have to be.

And the way music has a funny way of finding you again, just when you least expect it.

Once, I sat in the backseat, listening to boys shout this song at the top of their lungs. Now, I’m in the front seat, watching my own kids do the same thing. Life has a funny way of circling back. Maybe we really are just pirates, floating along, letting the music take us where we’re meant to go.

Jaxon: “Mom, we should be real pirates and not do anything forever.”

Me: “So… like, bedtime?”

Maggie Jo: “NO, MOM, PIRATES DON’T SLEEP!”

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Searching For Stars

Wanted Dead or Remembered : A Road Trip Through Myth, Memory, and the Wild West

By Lauren Nixon-Matney • April 12, 2026

Film: Young Guns 1 & 2 Bon Jovi : Blaze of Glory

Imagine: The Savage Was the Seer Enoch’s Echo, My Father’s Voice, and the Stories We Were Never Meant to Forget

By Lauren Nixon-Matney • April 12, 2026

John Lennon: Imagine

The Girls of Rock and Roll: Rosey Blair, Chipette Energy, and a Very Special Kind of Magic

By Lauren Nixon-Matney • April 12, 2026

*A letter of light for Rosey Blair* Okay this is going to sound oddly specific but stay with me... You remind me of a very particular kind of feeling. The kind that lives somewhere between fall air, soft lighting, and a childhood movie that most people forgot existed, but the ones who remember it? Oh we remember. The 1987 Chipmunk Adventure! Which I did not expect to ever connect to another adult human about, and yet here I am. There’s just something about that movie the movement, the music, the chaos, the fun, the outfits, the chipettes... like being in motion and color and sound at the same time. And watching you feels like that again in a weirdly beautiful , full circle way. Not in a “this is aesthetic content” way more like a “this is a person who actually lives inside her life” way. And ironically that’s what makes your aesthetic top notch in my opinion. Cozy but not fake. Honest and raw but not too harsh. Funny without trying to perform funny. (which is rarer than people think) There’s a warmth in how you show up that feels familiar in a way I can’t fully explain but definitely recognize. I came across you scrolling my phone, postpartum, trying to find my footing again. At the time I was in that weird in between space, relearning my body, trying to feel like myself inside something that had completely changed... yet again. And you showed up in your space on instagram in a way that felt real. Authentic. Original. Not “perfect body positivity” not curated confidence just a woman existing in her body dressing it, living in it, laughing in it and making that feel normal again. Healthy. Beautiful. Fun! Something I really grew to respect about you was that you didn’t stay frozen in one version of that message or yourself just to make people comfortable. You shifted. And I really admire the way you talk about Changing your mind. Leaving spaces that don’t feel right anymore. Figuring out that loving yourself isn’t one fixed version it evolves. That kind of honesty is quietly powerful and extremely profound. You evolved and changed your mind out loud. And people always have something to say when a woman does that... but you stayed steady anyway. That kind of self trust? That’s the part people don’t talk about enough. That’s what bravery looks like in real time! You don’t just create content, you create an honest space for people to re-meet themselves in whatever version they’re currently in. It’s the kind of magic that doesn’t need to be announced it just exists, and people feel it when they orbit around it. You didn’t just show up on my feed, you showed up in a moment where I needed to feel like myself again. Like a song you forgot you loved until it comes back on and suddenly you remember everything. And somehow through outfits, honesty, humor, book reviews and a lot of zany ingenuity... you saved parts of my girlhood that likely make me a better mother. Thanks so much for being you! Thanks for being real. Thanks for taking up space, your energy’s reach is more powerful than you ever might have imagined. P.S... I have to add this because it lives rent free in my brain! That Taylor Swift workout series you did?!? absolutely unhinged in the best way It was funny and chaotic and somehow still motivating… I'm not deep in Taylor Swift knowledge territory, but it made me pause and go “okay wait... there’s something here.” The way she owns her work, reclaims it, redraws the line that I own me energy it felt incredibly aligned with what you were doing too. With love, light and gratitude, Stay Weird! -Lauren “I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.” -Louisa May Alcott

Echoes of a Pirate Song: A Punk, a Pirate, and a Pentecostal Mom

Relient K: The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything

Film: Jonah A VeggieTales Movie

Searching For Stars

Wanted Dead or Remembered : A Road Trip Through Myth, Memory, and the Wild West

Imagine: The Savage Was the Seer Enoch’s Echo, My Father’s Voice, and the Stories We Were Never Meant to Forget

The Girls of Rock and Roll: Rosey Blair, Chipette Energy, and a Very Special Kind of Magic

Click To Hear The Searching For Stars Audiobook Podcast!

Click To Hear The Searching For Stars Sound Track!

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