One of my regular email relationships is with someone who provides an interested group of us with various music tracks that he (I assume) hand-selects for our listening pleasure. I am so jealous of this. Oh, I know how to upload an MP3 file; it isn't that. I am envious of his confidence that the music he's sharing with us will be wanted and appreciated. Even when he sends an obscure track--my God, I swear that was nothing but jungle sounds, ewww--he sends it with an unflappable self assurance that we will all appreciate it, load it onto our ipod, and perhaps even share it with others. He's right; a few tracks aside (deleted with guilt), I love what he has sent. Heck, I look for his emails to have that wonderful paper clip next to them.
I want to share some of my music with this group. I want them to know that I appreciate the classical tracks, the old Led Zeppelin, the Chipmunks urging Christmas to hurry. But I also have some new music that I want them to hear: there's some pop that isn't a sin to listen to, some hip hop that isn't unbearable or about killing policemen. However, I secretly believe that they will find my music preferences inferior. So if I forward them a great duet with Zucchero and Sting, and if they like it (if if if if if), then I'll have to admit it's from a Starbucks cd, and they'll be on to just exactly how pedestrian (musically) I am.
This all insinuates that they have never listened to current hits, or that they are less varied in their musical tastes than I; not true. So why don't I just take a deep breath, pick a song, and upload. So, I'm tucking in, my music-download cohorts, you'll be getting a paper-clipped email from me. (After I agonize for hours over what the performance should be, the first one saying so much about you.)
Man, I wish I had his upload.