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.

Wheel in the Sky: Where the Road Meets the Stars

Some people exist in snapshots. Margaret was one of them.

The hum of tires on the road, the shimmer of heat rising off the pavement. Journey playing loud enough to shake the windows. The lake is still miles ahead, but we can already feel it—the promise of cool water, the weight of the sun, the way summer in a small Texas town never feels like it’s moving too fast, until one day you realize it’s already gone.

Margaret is driving. One hand resting on the wheel, the other tapping the door in rhythm with the music. Sunglasses on top of her head, golden hair catching the wind. She sings with her whole body, like the song is pulling her forward, like she was meant to be part of it. My mom is beside her, harmonizing without effort, their voices blending into something so familiar, so natural, it’s impossible to imagine one without the other.

“Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin’…”

I am in the middle seat, the same place I always am. Small, safe, pressed between them, feeling the music as much as hearing it. The kind of moment you don’t realize is golden until time makes it untouchable.

Behind us, in the back of the truck, Bobby, Tommy, Billy, and Trey lean against the metal, their arms stretched out, the wind rushing past them like they could catch it in their hands. Laughing, yelling things that don’t need to be heard, because the music is already carrying everything that matters. Their hair whips in every direction, their voices swallowed by the road, but they don’t care. None of us do.

The air is thick with heat, dust, and lake water in the distance. The sun hangs high above us, casting everything in that endless, golden light. I don’t remember what Margaret smelled like, but I remember what it felt like to be around her.

She was effortlessly cool, but not in the way people try to be—in the way people just are. Beautiful, kind, full of light. She loved animals. She loved music. She loved capturing the moments that mattered, always behind the camera, making sure no one forgot how it felt to be here, right now, in the thick of it. But she wasn’t just recording life—she was living it.

Some songs aren’t just songs. They are people, they are places, they are moments frozen in time. They are the heat of the road beneath you, the sound of wind rushing past an open window, the way your mother and her best friend sing like they are part of the band, like they belong to the music just as much as it belongs to them.

Some songs aren’t just songs. They are time machines.

And when Journey plays, I am back here again.

The truck. The music. The heat of the summer stretching out before us, endless, until one day it wasn’t.

Some people don’t fade, they just move farther away—like stars, still burning, still there, even when you can’t see them.

“I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow…”

I didn’t know either. But I didn’t care.

Because back then, it always felt like summer would last forever.

And in some ways, it still does.

The wheel in the sky keeps turning spinning somewhere ahead, where the road meets the sky.

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Searching For Stars

So Far Away: The Things That Still Hold Us Together

By Lauren Nixon-Matney • December 12, 2025

Television Series: Reba Carole King : So Far Away Reba : I'm a Survivor

Thank You, Danny Go!: A Letter From Our Living Room

By Lauren Nixon-Matney • December 12, 2025

Dear Danny Go (and Mindy Mango), We weren’t looking for you—but somehow, you found us. It was in the recommended section on Happy Kids TV. Jaxon clicked on it for his sister Maggie, and just like that, something lit up in our living room. The colors, the energy, the fun costumes, the absolute joy of it all—we were hooked. Not just the kids. Jamie and I too. It didn’t take long before Danny Go! wasn’t just something our kids watched—it became something we danced to, sang along with, laughed through. Something that made us all feel lighter. There’s something rare and magical about a show that doesn’t just entertain your kids, but actually pulls you in too. For us, Danny Go! is that magic. Whether it’s “ The Floor is Lava ” or any of the countless jams we’ve rewatched again and again, it’s more than background noise—it’s an invitation. To move, to play, to be present. We’ve turned living rooms into obstacle courses, let loose in the kitchen, and found ourselves grinning and dancing when we thought we were too tired to do anything at all. It’s a way to reset a rough day, a cranky morning, or a bedtime full of wiggles . It’s become a happy place. At first, Danny Go! was just this bright, silly, joyful thing we all loved. But then I started learning more—about you, Daniel and Mindy, about your son Isaac, about the love and resilience at the heart of it all. And suddenly, it wasn’t just fun anymore. It was inspiring. The kind of inspiring that sinks in deep because you recognize something in it. I too know what it means to be moved by your children to do something that matters. In its essence Searching for Stars was born from that same place—wanting to create light because of the light our kids bring us every day. Knowing what Danny Go! came from—knowing the beauty and bravery behind it—just makes every song, every dance, every goofy costume feel even more meaningful. It’s not just a show. It’s a gift. Thank you so very much. For the joy. For the music and movement. For the way you’ve turned your story into something so bright and full of life. Thank you for making something that brings my kids happiness, and for letting that happiness spill over to the rest of us too. You’ve given us more than a show. You’ve given us a reason to dance when we’re tired, to laugh when we need it most, and to remember that play matters—maybe even more than we think. You remind us that joy is a kind of medicine, and that silly, colorful, creative love can be a force for good in the world. From one parent trying to build something inspired by their children to another: thank you for the light you’ve made. You’ve brightened our living room—and our hearts. With love and gratitude, Lauren

Breezeblocks: Fragments in Motion where the Melody Lingers

By Lauren Nixon-Matney • December 12, 2025

Alt J : Breezeblocks

Wheel in the Sky: Where the Road Meets the Stars

Wheel in the Sky: Where the Road Meets the Stars

Journey: Wheel in the Sky

Searching For Stars

So Far Away: The Things That Still Hold Us Together

Thank You, Danny Go!: A Letter From Our Living Room

Breezeblocks: Fragments in Motion where the Melody Lingers

Click To Hear The Searching For Stars Audiobook Podcast!

Click To Hear The Searching For Stars Sound Track!

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