I’ve had an ongoing love hate relationship with my iPods for years now. They are the greatest invention since sliced bread. I proudly loaded all 57 songs of my vast music library into my first one. Then got busy collecting music. It all seemed straight forward at the time. Get music, load music onto iPod, listen to music. Bing, Bang, Boom. Au contraire. First there’s the digital media rights. Bought and paid for my music (or hubby did) I’ll have you know, and it’s in a box – somewhere. Besides, I thought the whole point of digital was to get teeny-weeny, meaning I didn’t have keep track of all those stupid CDs that were going to be made into wind chimes. It’s in the magical binary microcosm. Got that all that sorted out eventually.
On to creating the eleventy seven millionth password, this one for iTunes. Anyone who has been around computers since they were the size of Oldsmobiles feels my pain. I could publish an encycolopia with all of them created over the years. Well, maybe not a good idea.
But anyway, I should own stock in iTunes by now. In the first bloom of love, I downloaded anything and everything; music, podcasts, smoke signals, pictures of my cat, you name it. I spent days, weeks, sometimes even months ripping my hair out trying to remember or find out the names of songs. Then accidently clicked a button in iTunes one day by dropping a fork on the keyboard and discovered that the music could be all arranged into groupings referred to as ALBUMS. Here I been downloading this song and that song willy nilly and raiding the husbands CD collection, which hasn’t been updated since the early 80s. Musical nirvana was at hand. Always loved music, but music always came to me, I didn’t control it.
Until now. My music is at my fingertips. It is portable, organizable, quantifiable. I think the version I have at the moment is the iPod Chortle, or something like that. It’s shiny apple green, a technological thing of beauty, but it hates me. I can feel it in my bones. When it’s not rupturing my eardrums, it’s falling out of my pocket and lodging in a crack in the chair. Not aware of this I stand up and rip 2 new holes in my head. Tried keeping it my bra for a while, but never mind. The damn thing runs out of juice at the most in-opportune moments, like the very nano second the wheels of the plane leave the ground.
The final insult happened a few month ago. I spent an entire weekend getting it all loaded up with books on tape, all my favorite music, etc. On a Monday morning at the office I dug it out and hooked it up to my computer at work. It was going to be so wonderful. I could drown all the noises that happen when your crammed into a small space with various co workers. Wouldn’t have to listen to the customized ring tone of someone’s kid blathering “goo goo, gaa gaaaa” or “There’s a Tear in My Beer” set to Kazoo music.
What happened next caused me to shout profanities. Fellow cube dwellers popped their heads up so quick you would think I’d sprayed a can of Ode d’ Pizza around the room. iTunes popped up with some message about an unauthorized computer. Taking temporary leave of my senses, I forgot that we live in a world where we don’t own anything anymore, even if it’s bought and paid for more than once. I poked at the keyboard, the screen grayed out, an then it sucked EVERYTHING out of my iIPOD. Not just iTunes media, but every damn scrap of digital data – books, podcasts, pictures, everything. I’m not making this up. This was supposed to be easy! It pissed me off so much that I the stupid gizmo in a dark crevice in my backpack. It’s been there ever since. I know I can sync it back up, and maybe I’ll forgive it some day. Or maybe I’ll switch to another brand of music player. But, then I’d have to figure it all out again with a new gadget and life is too short.
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