B-log

Dear rude man,

I am writing you to tell you that I forgive you for being rude to me this morning when you couldn’t get your car out of the stacker. I forgive you despite the fact that you insulted me, directly to my face when you told me that its ok because I just sit here all day and you have to go to work. I wonder what your line of work is, it must be so important that the world will stop without you….oops, hey guess what, the world didn’t stop when you couldn’t get your car out so it must not be that important after all. In line with this, as mundane, mindless, and easy as you may see MY job, I do not think you will be able to do it because this job requires a kind demeanour, a respectful tone, and a sunny disposition, all of which I can see you do not possess. This job may seem easy to you, and perhaps you want to make it more difficult for me by presenting me with a challenge. I thank you for it, if anything it has made me a stronger person, because it has reinforced my belief in the strength and goodness of my character, by contrasting it with yours. I cannot, however forgive you on behalf of the building manager whom you called incompetent, or the stacker technician who you called an idiot, because you voiced your opinion of them to me, and behind their backs. I generally do not like to feel sorry for people but in your case I have to make an exception, I feel sorry that you feel like such an all important being that you have to tread on the seemingly unimportant people along the way. You didn’t even give me your name or your apartment number, assuming that I knew you. I do not know you, all I know is that you come in and go, and never have a smile or a kind word for me.

So mister rude man, I do hope that you never have any more problems with the stacker. I know you are not an idiot, or stupid (only because you told me so) but just so you know, your code is 6652, and also just so you know, the stacker technician could not find anything wrong with the car stacker. Furthermore, you are the only one who has had any problems with the stacker all day.

Have a nice day.

From the consierge.

IT LIVES!! IT LIVES!!!

yes my BeePod (now known as FRANKENPOD) is back to life.
its still a bit sick, and i am lucky if i can import more than 5 Gigs into it before it conks out and needs resetting (easy) and sometimes it needs a full restore (more tedious)

thanks for all commented about having similar woes regarding their iPods.

music in my pocket, i can face the day with a smile on my face…

and in my ears, the music pumps The Doobie Brothers singing “oh…woooh….listen to the music….”

Well, it finally happened although I didn’t actually think it would happen quite so soon. After I dropped her at the gym some months ago she started behaving a little bit flaky, skipping, and downright refusing to regale me with particular songs…
She had been with me for over a year…almost two years, actually…my constant companion on the bus, while walking, my story-teller and, entertainer.
She always had a song to make me happy when I was sad, and a song to make my good days better.
…she just stopped.

My iPod, fondly called ‘BeePod’ is dead.

Music is such a big part of my life…some people say that smell is the strongest invoker of memory…for me its music. Many of my most incredible memories have a backing track, a soundtrack if you will. There are some songs I cannot listen to because they are too painful, such as “Circle Game” by Joni Mitchell which is the song I sang at my grandfathers funeral…on the other hand there are some songs that take me away to a very very special warm and fuzzy place. **sigh**
I used to listen to music quietly at bedime…it was set to sleep after an hour or so (the man doesn’t like listening to music to sleep so I have stopped doing this) and up till we had different waking hours I used to set the BeePod to sing happy songs to wake us up in the mornings.

I listen to music on my commute to well…anywhere really, I listen to podcasts when the odd ‘i’m-sick-of-my-music’ mood comes along…and more recently I’ve taken to listen to audiobooks. I’m on chapter 3 of Anansi Boys now, and I must say that the narrator is incredibly amusing. Before she fizzled out of use, I used to use the BeePod at work, with a set of speakers that my best friend Michelle kindly gave me for Christmas.

These past two days without it have been ear opening to say the least (har, har). It amazes (and scares me a little) how dependent I’ve gotten on this little tiny white ‘escape-from-the-noise-of-the-outside-world’ device. I’m one of those people who out of the blue and all of a sudden gets a sudden impulse to hear a particular song, at that particular moment…and if I do get to hear it, the whole world becomes a better place….and the BeePod helped it happen. There is so much noise in the world, at least with visual noise we can shut our eyes to it. We can’t shut our ears and block sound out, but the BeePod helped me cover up the unwanted noise with beautiful, sweet, music. Don’t get me wrong, there are beautiful sounds around us as well…sounds of kids laughing, the sound of rain on a balmy day…the sound of the red ‘do-not-walk’ sign turning green…but for the most part these sounds are rare. All I get on a regular day is the sound of the bus groaning…and annoying schoolkids who speak solely for the purpose of being heard by other people…and honestly, I don’t want to hear about how cute (insert name of teenage boy here) is, or how wild the party was on Saturday, and how drunk (insert name of someone waay too young to be drinking) was. Its very annoying…and I mean INCREDIBLY so.

I used to whistle along to songs…and occasionally have been known to belt out a few lines while walking…I don’t care if people look at me funny (in this case maybe I’m being annoying to them—but I don’t really care). I sing along because the music makes me joyous, and I want to share my joy. I don’t think I sound that bad anyway. Some people have smiled when they see me sing, or whistle. And I smile back…I’m always smiling when I sing anyway.

The BeePod kept me motivated at the gym (so sad that that’s where I so carelessly dropped her) with rock music, and steady pumping beats to keep my feet in rhythm while I (on the odd occasion) jogged on the treadmill. At the gym she kept me focused on me and kindly helped me block out the sounds of the disgustingly vain grunting and groaning of the “testosto-boys” as I like to refer to them. (Gimme one more, c’mon, you can do it, lift that stack of weight, yeah! Push it!) –Shut up already, and just let him lift the gaddam weight!
I’m a little bit more irritable now that I don’t have music in my pocket. (add that to the fact I have my period—UGH) where is Corinne bailey Rae’s soothing voice for me now? Where is Aretha’s gospel joy?

I just found a forum that suggests giving the iPod a whack on the back and on the side to get the hard drive spinning properly…
Anxiously I look at the clock, its not long till quitting time, not long till I can rush home try this one last ditch effort at performing CPR if you will…
(and all along the music in my head is the Five Fairsteps singing “ooh child, things are gonna get easier…ooh child things’ll get brighter)