I am incredibly sick of the presidential election, the media frenzy and, basically, politics as a whole. So don’t be concerned in the slightest that this post will be all preachy trying to get you to vote for whomever I am voting for because that is not at all my goal. Truthfully, I don’t want to vote for any of the presidential candidates or the senators or anyone else because I think to be a politician at all, you have to be intrinsically crooked. This why my faith in the whole thing is pretty much non-existent. However, I do feel that everyone who should vote can because the whole idea of democracy means nothing if you don’t.
I have written before about the terrible self-identification that can go into putting songs onto an iPod. When iPods were more limited in capacity (and in function, just, say, playing music), I felt extreme anxiety at deciding which music to put on the machine lest some imaginary and judgmental person should pick up my iPod and evaluate my taste, even my character, based on these musical selections.
This psychological paralysis was attenuated by one rather simple fact—people don’t actually peruse the contents of each other’s iPods that much in non-communal settings. So, if you’re an adult, work a real job, and pretty much only use your iPod for commuting or exercise, there isn’t much opportunity to be judged by an imaginary interloper who gets his/her hands on your most private of musical objects.
In a way, iPods are kind of like wallets or underwear. If you lose the former, it is really annoying, time-intensive, and often expensive to replace. The latter is usually only seen (and handled) by intimate relations. These facts, at least in my life, have freed me from caring at all about what someone else might think about what is or isn’t on my iPod. Since no one else ever uses it, there is nothing to worry about.
For the first time in my life, I experienced an earthquake a few weeks ago while standing in my basement. I was actually playing bass at the time, working on a pentatonic scale exercise that had been eluding me. I was jamming along, feeling like I finally got it and was really smoking it and then the whole house started to shake like it was just hit by an airplane. For an instant, I thought “Man, I’m really jamming” and I was stoked. Literally a half second later it occurred to me that something very strange was happening and I’d better do something about it.