Merch My Dumb iPod
posted by June 27 at 13:30 PMon
My boyfriend got me an iPod for Christmas. He told me he loaded all of “my music” on it, then laughed—apparently “my music,” which occupies just half of one of the fifteen shelves worth of music in our house, barely made a dent in my new iPod’s memory.
For about three months I wore it everywhere I went—on the bus, on airplanes, at the gym. Then… I stopped. My iPod has been sitting on my nightstand, untouched, for about two months now. Maybe longer. What happened?
I always thought I wasn’t the iPod type. Now I know I’m not. Those first few months, though, made me wonder. I really enjoyed listening to my music walking around town. And I enjoyed plugging my earpuds in and blotting out the world. People leave you alone when you’ve got those things in you ears; they don’t ask you inane questions on the bus, they don’t strike up conversations on airplanes. That was nice.
But… after three months, man, I was sick of everything on my iPod. Sick of Liza and Vicki Carr, sick of Queen and the Beach Boys, sick of Company and Pacific Overtures and Follies. My pathetic half-a-shelf worth of music should have been the dead giveaway: I don’t own enough music, I don’t like enough music, to listen to the music I own and/or like 12 hours a day without quickly sickening of all of it. My boyfriend, on the other hand, has shitloads of music, and consequently never gets tired of listening to his iPod.
So my poor, neglected iPod sits on my nightstand, waiting for the day when I’m ready to hear a little VIcki again. It could be a while.