The Miracle Pod

While preparing to work-out with the dog I dropped my Ipod three times. Still played. And as I was walking out the apartment, the leash, poop bags, and keys overloading my hands, the POD slipped from my armpit into the dog's water dish. It took me a moment to process the event. Well that is not good, I said, peering down at my 2ND most important electronic toy. I picked it up, turned it over and dried it off. The screen glowed. I plug the headphones back in; Barry Manilow sang to me. Bless the Beasts and the Children. It works.

I spent the next hour sweating to my precious work out mix which, to many of my friends' surprise, does contain any Barry.

That was three days ago and I'm still power walking to "Hips don't Lie". I know that, I, at Oddly Off Center, rarely write about a personal event without connecting it to a grander theme, but I think the story of how a pod became a Miracle Pod is worth deviation from my norm.
Can you hear the Miracle Pod in space?

I guess it is relevant because, for all of my quirks, I believe the MP3 player rivals Tupperware for greatest invention of all time. Have my entire musical collection in a device smaller than a cellphone blows my skirt up. I save space, in keeping with my desire to become a digital human: books, music, and documents. I could save money on rent if could just give up the books, nah I love the books. Plus, where would I shower after I sweat?

When I got my first one, I was high for three weeks, bopping and lip syncing all over town. Life really did have a soundtrack. I had walking playlists, subway playlists, sitting in Barnes and Noble playlists and, of course, running playlists. After the first one died, I heard sounds I had forgotten. Real Dialogue: couples fighting, stupid people trying to sound smart, smart people trying to sound stupid, and Oh my god, I can't believe she went out with him! Evesdropping! Interaction! Genius!

I got the new one but now I jack in mostly for exercise. I enjoy watching and listening to the world around me.