Maybe life is a song, but you’re scared to sing along…

There is something about music which I’ve always just adored. I think it’s the way it can take you places—a certain song can bring back a whole slew of memories. It can take you back to a certain place, a certain time, and even a certain person. And even if those moments don’t last, you always have music to bring you back, to remind you of the good times and the bad. I think that is why I find music so important when I’m writing, why I actually can’t write without having my playlist on. When I write I like to picture the story as though it was a movie, and I need to hear the songs, to picture what would be playing in the background.

I’ve always thought  if I were to someday get published, it would be so cool to be able to have an accompanying CD of songs which matched the chapter, which helped aid the story with their own messages and stories. The closest I’ve come is naming chapters after the titles of songs that sum up that chapter.

Sitting here, staring at this blank screen, I’ve been trying to figure out how to go about making the soundtrack of my life. What songs I would put on that could sum up the last 22 years of my life. Johnny Cash, and the Spice Girls sang me the songs of my childhood. Liz Phair and The Ataris helped me through a summer of painful moments. David Grey sang the song which to this day will always remind me of the boy of my dreams, and I know my future could be contained within the lyrics of a Frank Sinatra and dreams of flying to the moon. The songs I love are almost as bi-polar as the memories they remind me of.

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