"When there is nothing left to burn . . ."

I've been meaning to sit down and write about an insightful conversation I recently had on life and relationships among my generation - but wouldn't you know it - life keeps getting in the way.

So, until I have more time to sit down and write about that conversation in a way that will do it justice, I want to talk a little bit about music.

I've always been a connoisseur of music, which my insane CD collection can attest to. And for some reason lately, music has had an even larger presence in my life, something that is definitely most welcomed and a major reason I wanted to move back to Seattle. (After living in New York for seven years, I can definitely say that Seattle has a FAR better music scene.)

While some people find inspiration in nature, some in faith or religion, and others on the pages of books, I happen to find most of mine in music and lyrics.

I always used to think I was less intelligent and academic than a lot of my friends because of this. That was until I had an editor, who I greatly respected, once ask me if I was a book person or a music person. The answer rolled off my tongue without a bit of hesitation, and a bright light flicked on inside of my head.

While I consider the books I have read to be my friends who I like to keep around, I consider my music collection to be an assortment of spiritual advisers, philosophers, and comedians who keep me thinking, laughing, and dancing.

The reason I chose to write about this topic tonight is that on the way home from work I was struck by the lyrics and rhythm of a song by the band Stars. I discovered this band a few years ago, and they have a sound that would best be described as a lovechild between Death Cab for Cutie and Frente!. (If you don't know any of these bands, I am sorry for you and hope that you can discover their music in this vast universe we call Cyberspace.)

The title of the aforementioned song is "Your Ex-Lover is Dead." Now, despite what your knee-jerk reaction to that title might be, my reason for finding inspiration in it had less to do with my recent heartbreak and more to do with personal survival.

One week from yesterday will mark the six-year anniversary of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon. I have yet to be able to write about my reflections of that day.

My mind is still processing why it is that a co-worker found me and helped me escape death by mere minutes. Why my life out of thousands of others was spared. Why our country's retaliation has become the forgotten war in Afghanistan. Why hundreds of thousands more have died unjustly in the name of "freedom" in Iraq. Why the American public has forgotten that Bush and Congress work for us, and that we have the right to fire dishonest employees. And why, despite all of this, our lives seem virtually unaffected on a daily basis.

So, perhaps "when there is nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire," to quote the scary old-man voice at the beginning of "Your Ex-Lover is Dead."

(For curious minds, there is a video available of the song on the Stars website.)