about the project

It all started when I went on a music diet.

At the end of Summer 2024, my birthday was around the corner, and I wanted a challenge for the year ahead—something to help me evolve and learn.

I recalled my resolution for 2019. For that entire year, I gave up all the music I’d ever heard before. I could only listen to familiar songs by happenstance—live performances, on the radio, playing in the background somewhere, etc. (Remixes and covers were also acceptable.)

The challenge had been grueling, emotional, and frustrating, but full of amazing discoveries, both musical and personal. I found new favorites that year—songs I now feel I can’t live without, because they express a part of me that no other artist had sufficiently articulated.

And I never would’ve discovered those songs, those artists, or that version of myself if I’d stuck to the familiar.

I also made personal revelations—the biggest one being that I was capable of such discipline.

That’s the type of growth I wanted to experience again. Those were the kind of explorations I was craving. So I decided to abandon my musical comfort zone for another year.

That means any music I’d ever heard before my last birthday is off limits until my next one.

I archived every Spotify playlist, and removed every album from my library. I awoke on September 3 to the beautiful, slightly-intimidating feeling of a blank slate. I had no idea where to start—and it was invigorating.

That day, I drove to work in silence. There was beauty in the discomfort.

The only sound was the occasional exasperation I muttered aloud while flipping through my mental music collection, trying to recall any albums I’d never made time to listen to. Before I knew it, I’d run out of time to listen anyway.

Perhaps now’s the time to mention my “office” is Washington Dulles International Airport (IAD). I’m a commercial flight attendant.

I had a physical “blank slate” in my purse that day in the form of an empty journal, intended for whatever crazy thoughts might go through my head at 35,000 feet. One particularly interesting thought did cross my mind…

What if I use this journal for music recommendations?

Nah; too nebulous. Music is personal, and everyone has their own mosaic of artists, albums, and songs that make up their emotional identity. No one would know where to start—and I’d struggle to find time to sift through it. I also doubted I’d have the same personal connection to the majority of the music.

So what if I asked everyone for one song? What if there was a question that everyone would have an answer to—and every answer would be different?

Thus, the Happiness Soundtrack was born.

I jotted The Question inside the cover, and wrote one of my own answers at the top of the first page. Then, I grabbed the journal (and some hotel pen I’d acquired in my travels), and made my way down the aisle. My plan was to ask anyone who made eye contact with me and smiled.

Three or four passengers met that criteria. When I got to the back of the plane, I asked my crew members, and a few other passengers who came by with various requests. By the end of the day, the first page was full.

Now, I ask everyone I can, both on the plane and out in the real world. My goal is to ask one person a day, and to keep going until the book is full. For me, it’s not even about the music anymore! It’s about making these connections with strangers—or getting to know my loved ones on deeper levels.

Sometimes, it’s the memories and associations that intrigue me. Other times, it’s the nature of our interactions that warm my heart. I’m sure you’ll agree when you read the stories! I can’t wait to share them with you here.

So now, I just have to ask… What’s your song?