I believe that the interactions between myself and my i pod are representative of my life.
I believe that the interactions between myself and my i pod are representative of my life. This reoccurring notion taps me on the shoulder every time I press the play button. I don’t mean to sound suicidal, but, after 15 years, I have come to think that my life wouldn’t really be worth living if I were unable to listen, and interpret. I truly can’t keep myself from scrutinizing my peer’s words in order to find some sort of meaning. I am happiest when talking to my dad about his ideas and beliefs. Yet obviously, my dad isn’t always home, and not always able to give up the time in his day that I ask of him. I can complete nearly the same process of listening and interpreting on my own time with something that contains knowledge equally as interesting and compassionate as my dad. I do this with my ipod. I don’t know if I would go so far as to call my ipod a companion, still, I find myself treating it as one.
As I press play I hear thoughts, ideas, opinions, gushing out of headphones, mouths, rapidly flowing through every inch of my body. I guess my ipod effects me more than its creators probably ever intended to. For what I learn from my ipod as well as those who teach me is what fuels each sentence I devise, and the movements of my body every second of every day.
I believe that the technology installed in my computer also is installed in my body. This is because I believe in the importance of memory, battery, and the need to re-boot. I am no robot, however, I feel as if I can easily relate to any mechanism running on low battery. The software used to keep out spam, download music, and explore the web exist within my flesh. The control I have over myself, similar to my i pod, is evident because I exhibit it every day. I am always in control of what goes in and out of my mind and body. I determine what is considered true or false, and how loud or how soft the voices from my headphones whistle in my ear.
That shiny, solid, rectangular object that travels in my backpack and I, we have a lot in common. I learn from others, people who teach me, those who filter information for me. The i tunes store? This is what is stored within my mind. Your hard drive? I am then able to speak, sing, scream, and cry out the information neatly filed within the depths of my brain, just like that ipod of mine, still I choose not to. I take the knowledge, mix it around and then let it rest. I wait until it seeps out of my pores. Just long enough to make sure that it spills out of all five feet two inches of me. You would not recognize it as being what had once flown in through my eyes or ears for it has been interpreted. Now the knowledge that rests within my soul gives me energy, gives me happiness, and gives me life. It is what throws me out of bed every morning, pushes me through school every day, and then back to my i pod every night.
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