I believe in iPods – the fancy little device that utilizes a computer chip. Its streamline shape and ultimate portability makes it easy to integrate the device into daily life. And I do. It fits in my back pocket. It plugs into my car, my morning alarm, my mini groove box with speakers. It can access music, pictures, videos, my planner, Internet, games, maps, nutrition. It’s perfect.
Inside, chips and bytes create the notes that make guitars pluck, bows wave, and keys strike. Under the shining sun or in the blistering cold, my own inner environment is created between ear buds from a selection of over 3,000 songs. Often, the folksy voices of Janis Joplin, Patsy Cline, and Johnny Cash reverberate in the grey matter, spreading rich echoes into my gut. I had little conceived that this inanimate rectangle would provide the daily soundtrack for my life. Whenever a good mood takes hold, iPod heightens it with peaceful melodies; for bad moods, darker riffs serve as a cathartic release. Sometimes a song’s lyrics cosmically correspond with my world at that moment, as if the artist wrote it just for me. I always carry around special memories, but now they’re easily revived in mp3 format.
Riding my bicycle to campus, my groove box accompanies me – a purse-like speaker with a zipper down the middle that nestles iPod securely in its bosom. It sits in the front basket and fills the world with “sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments” declare my approach. Oh! if Caliban only had an iPod, he could have rocked the bad spirits on that isle out.
iPod has seen me at my dirtiest. Even when my studio apartment is full of used dishes, dust, and smelly clothes, iPod doesn’t judge me. It’s a faithful friend that cheers me into productivity with the sing-along jams of The Beatles, Crystal Gayle, and Styx. Time is no longer measured by the ticking of my watch; instead, like Bill Haley, it “rocks around the clock,” transforming boredom into life.
When chance is the taste of the day, I put my music collection on shuffle. Shuffle and I have a turbulent relationship. Sometimes we are in harmony, and our musical conversation is in key. Shuffle plays and I sing along happily. We are synced and our lives beat to the same drummer. Other times, Shuffle just doesn’t understand and drains me emotionally with its bad taste and poor decisions. Those are the days when I get frustrated, and Shuffle gives me the silent treatment.
Sometimes the empty floor of my boyfriend’s apartment becomes our personal dance club. Why pay a cover charge when the groovy sounds of the BeeGees, Michael Jackson, and Madonna can be played instantly within hearing range of two sanguine personalities? In our most intimate moments, iPod has been there. And with a simple touch of the pause button, music has been made without it.
Thus, I believe in iPods.
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