As a rule, disarmingly open and autobiographical songwriters are anything but in person. However unrestrained the artist may be in pouring out his or her heart for all the world to hear on a CD, that doesn't necessarily mean they're open to answering questions as to whether or not their songs are, in fact, actually about them--and Lord, don't I know it. Thankfully, Rosie Thomas is not coy when it comes to admitting the inspiration for the songs on her lovely new Sub Pop release, When We Were Small.

"I've always been a very honest person," reveals Thomas over coffee at Bauhaus on Capitol Hill. "I didn't know I was supposed to have this stage presence, or that I should be mysterious or cryptic so that people would wonder what I'm about. I just thought, 'Wow! I'm an entertainer and I get to be me, I get to share these gifts and things I love to do.' I think the whole point of writing the songs is to admit to people that this is what I've been doing, and if it affects you and gives you hope or inspires you or moves you, then me pretending it's not about me just wouldn't work. My brother's always [telling me], 'You should be more mysterious--boys like that.' But I'm not good at that. It would just make me more uncomfortable."

Within minutes I form the opinion that Thomas was probably not overtly popular in school, yet wasn't the dark, journal-scribbling brooder either. I suspect she was most likely the pretty, slightly quirky funny girl everyone liked in a quiet way, admired for her authenticity and gusto, but she wasn't sought out because of it. Thomas confirms my suspicions as she answers the few questions I manage to wedge in among her bubbly, delightfully candid answers.

Thomas' enthusiasm is infectious, and throughout our conversation the singer often reaches out to grab my elbow as if to pull me into the story with her. She is immensely likable, and this makes me want to attend every one of her shows, whether or not her talent merits my attention. But it does. When We Were Small is a start-to-finish jewel sparkling with nostalgic personal memories and sharp lessons. Between the CD's tracks, snippets of Thomas' voice as a child provide poignant footnotes, most devastatingly after the broken-hearted "Farewell" ("Farewell, so long/because I was wrong I guess"): The fuzzy tape hiss and the toddler-aged singer proudly announcing "I'm done!" with such forlorn resignation is an irony that's hard to take.

On the face of it, the revelation that Thomas is also a standup comedian who has performed at Giggles might seem at odds with her work as a serious songwriter. On the comedy stage, Thomas becomes "Sheila," a glasses-and-neck-brace- wearing pizza delivery girl who is a nerd to everyone but herself. She shows me a photograph of Sheila, and the transformation is nothing short of astounding; there is no reconciling the person in the photo with the one sitting across from me. Thomas often takes Sheila out on the streets or into hipster bars, and it's in those moments where the similarity between Rosie the Singer and Rosie the Comedian become apparent: both are the product of admirable amounts of bravery. Whether she's standing onstage singing about her family and making people think about their own lives, or whether she's being Sheila, sitting on a barstool at the Cha Cha and making the stylish patrons wish she'd quit talking to them and just go away, it takes a considerable amount of courage.

But Thomas doesn't know from bravery because to her, it's a natural compulsion. She's always been that way and she always will be that way. A graduate of Cornish, Thomas has always been a performer, and dreams of someday creating a one-woman show that combines singing and comedy, a pairing she admits might put some people off.

"The beauty of being a grownup is that you get to know yourself, and you get to stop apologizing for who you are. I've had some bad shows and I've been a little bummed sometimes. But really, for the most part, it's just life, and I can't predict if people are going to laugh at this character or if they are going to be moved by the simplicity of my music. I'm not waiting for their validation, I'm just doing what I love and if they like it--and I hope they do--that's great. If they don't, I have to be okay with that too."