Mourning iPOD

I haven’t been able to address this until now because I’ve been too distraught, but my iPOD of 5 years passed away last week.

If I’m really being honest with myself, I have to admit that I noticed the signs much earlier then that. It started with some funny symptoms here and there earlier this summer. At first they were easy to ignore…. with a simple “power off” or “re-charge” of the batteries. But when they began to happen more frequently in my gut I knew… our remaining days together were numbered.

We’ve been through so much. It was in fact my first Apple product. My first foray into edgy technology. It was even inscribed on the back with a message only my iPOD and I understood. We’ve run countless races together, cried together, loved together, rode the bus together. It’s possible that my iPOD has logged more hours with me then many of my “real” friends. iPOD always felt me; when playing shuffle it found me the most poignant tune, saving the day with the perfect song which until I heard it, I didn’t even know I was feeling. But he knew, he sure did.

When the “Factory re-set”  I ran last week failed to restore power, I knew it was time to let go.

What is it they say? When God closes a door, he opens a window?

After one week of Journalism school I’ve heard one thing in particular repeated on a number of occasions; the way I’ve looked at the world up until now… it’s a thing of the past. Now were told that every sign, every conversation, every observation are potential leads for stories. Being plugged into my surroundings is something to hone it on, because that is what makes a good journalist. It’s someone who pays attention to the details and is present at all times.

It’s made me question how observant I really am. I mean I wouldn’t say I’m flighty exactly but I’ve definitely walked into a street pole or hydrant (ok, or two) in my life. It’s a funny thing though; once you become aware that you need to be a sponge, you realize how much you’ve been missing. How many times have I walked around with earphones in, missing the world as it’s passed me by? For that matter, wouldn’t you say this iPOD generation is guilty of walking amongst each other, but hardly ever together?

As it turns out, tuning in, it’s quite exhausting really. I feel slightly over-stimulated with thoughts and angles, questioning everything I see. I understand now why journalists have been typically represented in movies and popular culture as scatterbrained and eccentric, walking around with pencils behind their ears and pens in their front pockets. I’m already starting to stop mid-sentence to scramble something down and I have tiny notepads tucked into all sorts of inner pockets of purses and bags.

So I guess what I’m saying is, if there has to be an iPod break, maybe it’s good that it’s happening right now. It will give me a chance to perfect my eavesdropping while riding public transit. You could even say that the timing is so right, it’s the last good thing iPOD did for me. He just knew it was time to cut the cord.

Besides. It’s too soon for a replacement. Someday, maybe. But just not yet.

The hurt is still too new and real.

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6 thoughts on “Mourning iPOD

  1. This is one of the last things I would expect to see inscribed on the back of an iPod. Intriguing!
    I am sorry for your loss but your story finally provides some justification for my 3 different models of iPod, my iPhone and my iPad. I am covered!

  2. Pingback: Trail Run | Sparrow in the Tree Top

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