I prefer to write my life along the lines of a soundtrack, using music both to express emotion and evoke past memories. Movie directors intrinsically know what I have just begun to understand: that a piece of music can both stand alone and evoke memories of previous listens. I've often joked that I could probably put together a soundtrack of my life, but it would have meaning to no one else but me.

• Live's "Lightning Crashes"—my freshman year of college.
• Arrested Development's "Tennessee"—in high school, watching a talented classmate paint.
• Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue"—my grandfather.
• Blues Traveler's "Run-Around"—watching the Razorbacks lose the NCAA men's basketball championship.
• Jonatha Brooke's "Full-Fledged Strangers"—getting in the car to make the seven-hour drive home from seeing Jeff.

I look at this list and wonder if I should post it, because this is far more personal than some of the things that I've posted here in the past seven months. These are my memories; the things that I carry with me and can always call my own. It is very easy to ask the question, "If I show this to everyone, is it still mine? If I starfish myself and show the world what makes me, me, what will I have left for myself?"

The classic fear of the introverted and shy: the loss of self. The quiet fear that if you finally show the world your bones, your soul, the core of your self, that you will lose your self-identity.

A common question is, "Why would you write this and make it public?" Call it a kind lesson to myself. Call it an exercise in exhibitionism. But, most accurately, call it learning to acknowledge my thoughts as valid ones, and call it learning to open up the labyrinthine corridors of my mind to the people I care about.

I think my friends have learned a thing or two about me in the process.

As for the soundtrack of my life—I'm about to add two new albums to it—as soon as they arrive, that is. I've ordered Patti Rothberg's new album, Candelabra Cadabra, and Jonatha Brooke's new album, Steady Pull.

These artists that I like so much don't release albums very often, so having two appear in a month is giong to be quite a treat for me. Jeff is going to be heartily sick of both albums, I'm sure, even though I'll mostly play them at work.

So, for lack of a better close, since I've gotta get to work…

You are there in my dreams, and in my days like you've always been
I've got a river of kin, a footbridge of neighbors
The rest of my little world is full-fledged strangers
Full-fledged strangers
But you think you know me—think it's just a matter of time
'til you make me see the depth of your sincerity
But I can't shake this
The way on is no longer clear
The bridge is out, and the woods are dark and dear
And I could get lost for trying, all my fears in ambush along the way
'cause they are there in my dreams, and in my days like they've always been

I'm waiting and there's still no one to meet my train
I'm waiting and there's no one but myself to blame
I'm waiting and there's still no one to meet my train
Waiting—for you

Love is love—it could've gone either way
'cause it is also love that walks away
And I'll take one step back and pull the wool back over your eyes
And I'll walk on
'cause you are there in my dreams, and in my days like you've always been
Got a river of kin, a footbridge of neighbors
The rest of my little world is full-fledged strangers
Full-fledged strangers

I'm waiting and there's still no one to meet my train
I'm waiting and there's no one but myself to blame
I'm waiting and there's still no one to meet my train
Waiting. Waiting.

     - Jonatha Brooke, "Full-Fledged Strangers"