I recently received an iPod for my birthday. For those of you who don't know what an iPod is, then crawl out from under that damn rock! My is sleek and beautiful and shiny blue. It is even engraved on the back. More on that later. I got this iPod as a birthday gift I think mostly to shut me up about when I would ever be able to get one. I was convinced I would find some way to get one for free from a contest or a promotion or from my famous rock-star brother-in-law. I don't have a rock-star brother-in-law, but my friend Chris does, and that is how he got his iPod. Spending that much money on something that just played music seemed impossible, but a boy can dream, right? But I never tired of talking about it, and since my wife did tire of hearing about it, she took pity and got me one as a birthday gift.
What I love about my iPod is that it is like the soundtrack to my life. When I am listening to it, simple, every day events are punctuated by song that is sometimes poignant, but usually odd. For instance, I work in Park City, so every day I commute up lovely Parley's Canyon. And for some reason, almost without fail, my iPod plays "Lost in Love" by Air Supply. I know iPod doesn't consciously choose songs to match the situation I am in, but then why, pray tell, does "Lost in Love" play in that canyon? When those dulcet tones whisper "Carry On..." in my ears the surrounding seem even more beautiful. And then today, when I was mowing my lawn iPod chose to play Chaka Khan's "I'm Every Woman." Now if my life is a movie, and my iPod is my soundtrack, why am I every woman while riding a power mower? Is it a message about the empowerment of women, iPod? Then why am I the woman?
The other thing I love about my iPod is that it is my ticket to be anti-social. You see, I kind of hate people. Not in a sociopathic kind of way, but in the way that most people (except all of my lovely friends who posted messages on my first Blog. Oh and the rest of the Lunchdate slackers. And my family.) bug me. My ultimate pet peeve is when I am standing in line somewhere, say waiting at the bank, or to get a deli sandwich and some "person" in front of me says, "Don't they have anymore workers that can help out?" or "I love ham!" Why do we have to have a conversation, just because we are standing in line together? I once considered having cards printed up that read "Thank you for you comment/question. Please note: our proximity in line does not make us friends. Please don't say any more." That I could hand out whenever one of these chatters brought up the price of postage. But iPod has solved all that. When those little white headphones are plugged in, you are golden. No on can talk to you! I recently flew to California, and instead of worrying if the old woman sitting next to me was going to ask me if I was "going or coming" I just plugged myself into the sweet whisperings of Rufus Wainwright and Howard Jones.
2 comments:
Did Topher write this blog?
I needed some of your anti-people-in-line business cards the other night.
This is because of "Weird Movie Boy." Lynette and I went to see War of the Worlds and arrived late during the previews. We ended up sitting next to this funny looking fat 14 year old kid who turned out to be at the movies by himself on a Saturday night. Odd behavior included:
• During the preview of some chick movie with Orlando Bloom, mentioning loudly to me like we were best buds that "I've already seen this movie."
• (quick IMDB check reveals that the movie doesn't come out till October)
• Getting up and leaving for another large popcorn and Coke 5 minutes into the movie during important plot setup.
• Laughing out loud at inappropriate times, such as when a bunch of people are standing around looking shocked because the rest of the people have just been disintegrated by alien death rays.
• Getting up, as if for more popcorn, and leaving and not coming back with like 15 minutes left in the movie.
• I'm glad my kids so far show evidence of having some social skills/ability to make friends.
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