Confessions of a headphone junkie

Originally written for the Tay Township Report, January 2008

I lost a dear friend of mine two weeks ago. As I was driving home from work, I stopped to pick my children up at their father's house, and hit pause on my iPod Nano. When I came back, all signs of life had disappeared. Frantically, I held down the play button, waiting for the tiny screen to light up. I cradle it's tiny body in my hands, uttering words of encouragement, lightly sprinkled with the odd obscenity, in hopes of talking it out of its apparent technological suicide. After a few minutes, I realized I would have to drive home, with only the radio and the happy squeals of my children for company, for that long five minute drive home. Dejected, I listened to the spurts of chatter and sporadic bursts of melody, as the car stereo scanned in search of a station to suit my needs. Upon arriving home, I crossed my fingers as I plugged my little silver and pink friend into my computer, certain that, like someone in insulin shock, all it needed was a little juice. Nothing.

It may be time for an introduction. My name is Andrea, and I have a problem. I am a full-fledged music junkie. There are plenty of music lovers in the world, but I am an addict. I used music the way others used anti-depressants, as a method of keeping me balanced. When I clean, when I drive, when I walk, when I exercise, it's there, keeping me company. In the early days of my current employment, one of the main draws of the job wasn't the pay, or the hours, but the fact that I was able to spend over 7 hours a day with my then-generic-brand mp3 player, as dear to me then as my little buddy is now. My head would swirl with ideas for playlists. I spent an entire day listening to nothing but the Pixies. More recently I embarked on a plan to listen to every track in my music collection, alphabetically by title. I was excited, and life was good. Poor thing didn't make it past the 'I's.

Upon returning to work after a period of mourning (okay, it was monday) I settled back into my routine. It was then, I had a revelation. Although I had never realized it before, my co-workers wanted to talk to me. Perhaps I was happily distracted, or maybe I just plain couldn't hear them over the melodic strains of Social Distortion, but they had been attempting to communicate with me, and I had been missing out. Every junkie hits that moment, when they realize that their habit has become a hindrance on their life in some way. I realized that my physical and metaphorical attachment to those little earbuds were having a negative effect on my social life - and probably my hearing as well.

It's been two weeks. In a moment of optimism and desperation, I've just plugged my little buddy back into my computer, and imagine that... a tiny, faint apple appeared on it's screen. I'm joyous, but also wary. I hope that, given this second chance, my little friend and I can start over in a relationship thats a little more healthy, for both of us.

Well, I’m out like a cheap plaid leisure suit...

I'm taking the kiddies and heading for the wilds of nothern ontario (and minnesota, Wisconsin, and upper peninsula Michigan) off to see meliss, my best bud in the world.

I have my iPod packed up with all the fantasticness I could fit onto 2 lousy Gigs... that should get me most of the way there, I hope.

I'm hoping my little Betty's trunk can fit all the crazy crap that I have had to pack for this journey.

Eating some cereal, having a coffee, gonna make me a buttload of sammiches (I have a goal to actually stop to eat no more than once... that being said, I've bought a stupid amount of food for the cooler.

Happy Trails all... I'll return in a week!

I'll miss ya, you know who you are.